The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2

by Michelle Vernal

  Roisin quickly did the same, eager to get the show on the road and shove a mince pie in her gob. Colin was sitting straight backed, napkin in place, looking like he was waiting for his mother to pat him on the head and tell him he was a good boy. Her finger twitched with the urge to flip him the finger. He was such a goody-two shoes where Elsa was concerned, it had always annoyed her and still did, even now when it was no longer anything to do with her. She managed to keep her finger to herself moving her eyes away from him to watch as Noah set about demonstrating a strong future as a flag bearer with his napkin before finally draping it across his trousers. Elsa nodded approvingly before passing the plate around.

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph about time,’ Roisin hissed between her teeth.

  ‘Did you say something, dear?’ Elsa glanced over, questioning eyebrow raised.

  ‘Only that you make a lovely mince pie, Elsa.’

  Elsa sniffed as a spray of crumbs shot forth unbidden from Roisin’s mouth. Ah well, Roisin thought, Elsa had always thought her an uncouth Irish heathen. In for a penny in for a pound, she might as well knock the mulled wine back too.

  She wished she hadn’t when the spices, of which there were plenty, caught in the back of her throat. She felt it begin to close over a split second before she made a holy show of herself coughing and spluttering as though she were on her last legs.

  ‘I’ll get you some water.’ Colin dashed off to pour her a glass and when he reappeared, she snatched it from him gratefully taking a big gulp only to cough once again and wind up with it dribbling down her chin and onto her dress. Fat lot of good, the fecking napkin was, she thought seeing the damp stain spread over the grey fabric. Her blurred vision cleared and she saw Noah staring at her wide eyed. Ah, poor love, she thought, I frightened him. ‘I’m alright now, sweetheart,’ she rasped, ‘It just went down the wrong way that’s all.’ She refrained from adding his witch of a granny had probably deliberately loaded hers with mixed spice. She really wasn’t feeling her usual sunny self because when her son piped up with, ‘Well, Mummy, you always tell me not to drink too fast.’ It took all her strength not to tell him to cork it if he knew what was good for him. At that moment he looked very much like a little version of his father. They were a bad influence these Quealeys so they were, she decided, finally getting her breathing back under control.

  ‘Alright now?’ Elsa had watched her carry-on with alarm.

  ‘Mm,’ she nodded. ‘Sorry about that.’

  So, Roisin, tell us how this new job of yours is going,’ Elsa said and she saw Colin’s ears perk up. She opened her mouth to tell them a funny story about how Norman had caught her in Proud Warrior stance in the empty boardroom during her lunchbreak, knowing they wouldn’t be amused but determined to tell the tale anyway, but Elsa cut her off. ‘I’m sure the reason Noah’s only just shaken that dreadful cold is because of the afterschool programme you’ve put him in.’

  If there’d been another mulled wine sitting on the table, she’d have picked that up and gulped it down.

  Chapter 4

  Somehow, Roisin managed to keep her composure as the hours dragged by. Once she’d moved on from her near death, mulled wine experience she dug deep and joined in with Elsa and Colin’s joviality. This was their Christmas day, their special time with Noah and even if her mother-in-law or ex-mother-in-law or whatever she flipping was, had been a horrid old bite to her in the past, she loved her grandson. It was for this reason she kept the smile plastered to her face as she sat down for lunch at the dining table in the formal dining room. Elsa had handwritten name cards and Roisin saw she’d been placed at the far end of the table. If it was intended to make her feel like an afterthought then it had worked, she thought, sitting down. She concentrated on the table which was laid beautifully with a lacy white cloth and an elaborate holly centrepiece. A gold foil-wrapped Christmas cracker was lined up next to everyone’s fork, soldier straight, and Noah was already fiddling with his when Roisin next looked up. ‘Hold your horses, Noah, we’ll pull them in a minute. This looks lovely, Elsa.’ She wouldn’t show the old witch she was annoyed at being plonked in the seating equivalent of Siberia.

  Elsa preened as she disappeared, returning a moment later with a tureen full of vegetables. Colin brought up the rear with more bowls of food until at last, the pièce de résistance, the goose arrived swamped by golden potatoes. ‘It smells wonderful doesn’t it, Noah?’ Her tummy churned at the thought of the gamey meat.

  ‘Is it like Kentucky Fried Chicken? Because I like that.’

  ‘No, not really but it’s very tasty like Kentucky Fried Chicken.’ She lied.

  ‘Where’s its head gone, Mummy?’

  ‘Well, er...’

  ‘And doesn’t a goose have feathers and a big long neck like the one in my book. And, Mummy, why’s it got an orange stuck up its—’

  ‘Righty-ho.’ Roisin clapped her hands. ‘Would you like me to pour the wine?’

  Colin looked at her like she’d grown another head which was what she’d expected, he always did the honours but at least it had gotten David Attenborough over there, off the topic of Mrs Goose’s posterior. He set about playing host.

  Elsa sat down next to Noah and waved her cracker at him. ‘Shall we pull it?’ A fierce look of competitiveness came over her son’s face and it was mirrored back at him in his granny’s. Roisin watched carefully. Noah’s competitive streak came from the Quealey side and knowing how much Elsa liked to win, she wouldn’t put it past her to pull the little card strip. She’d done it to her last year but Noah was only five and if she cheated there’d be tears. A tug-o-war ensued, teeth were set in grim determination, and Roisin sat with teeth clenched rooting for Noah. He was flung back in his seat at the cracker popped and Yes! victory was his. There was no graciousness in winning where he was concerned because you’d have thought he’d just got a gold medal for cracker pulling the way he was brandishing his prized half about. Roisin watched Elsa’s lips press together in a thin, tight little line and was glad it was Colin who’d have to pull with her next. It was highly likely given the long-haul flight needed to get to her end of the table she’d be pulling her own cracker.

  Noah donned his party hat and put the plastic car down to unfold the piece of paper that had fallen out along with the rest of his winnings.

  ‘Shall I read your joke out, Noah.’

  He inspected the paper and decided it was beyond his ‘cat, sat on the mat’ capacity because he got up and gave it to his mother.

  ‘Why does Santa’s sack bulge in every picture? Because he only comes once a year.’ Roisin took a moment to digest what she’d just said before looking up to see a stunned Colin and Elsa staring down the table at her.

  ‘I don’t understand, Mummy. Everybody knows Santa only comes once a year. Why is it funny?’

  ‘Erm...’

  ‘It’s not funny, Noah, not funny at all. Colin go and get the cracker box it’s in the bin outside the back door.’

  Colin looked reluctant but did as he was told as Noah continued to mutter about Santa’s bulging sack.

  ‘I didn’t read it before I read it,’ Roisin offered lamely.

  ‘Mummy, did you not have your glasses on when your bought these because it says Adult Only up the top there,’ Colin said, returning with the offending box.

  Elsa spluttered that it was a disgrace such things were even on the market and that she would be writing a letter to her local paper about it. ‘Christmas,’ she sniffed was about family not pornographic Christmas cracker jokes.’

  Roisin sipped her wine in order to swallow down the bubble of manic laughter that was threatening to float forth.

  ‘What’s pornographic? Noah asked, his eyes swinging from one to the other.

  ‘Something you don’t need to know about,’ Elsa snapped. ‘Right, Colin, put that down and sort the goose.’

  Colin got on with carving and dishes were passed around before the serious business of eating began. Noah forgot all about gees
e and pornography in his horror at finding a Brussel sprout on his plate. ‘It’s a baby cabbage, Noah, it won’t poison you,’ Roisin explained. ‘They’re very good for you.’

  ‘You said baby cabbages make Daddy’s blow-offs really stinky.’

  Roisin stopped, fork midway to her mouth, her pinching toe itching to give her son a jolly good nudge under the table as Colin and Elsa glared down at her.

  Elsa changed the subject. ‘More goose, Roisin, you can manage more than a wing surely,’ she asked as Roisin popped the potato she’d speared in her mouth and tried to get rid of the taste of the rich meat.

  ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t fit anything else in, thanks, Elsa. It’s all so delicious.’ She laid her knife and fork down and waited for the others to do the same. The lone sprout rolled around on her son’s plate but she didn’t have the energy to encourage him to eat it so, getting up she announced she’d clear the table, managing to spirit it away before Elsa noticed.

  ‘You go and sit down.’ Elsa appeared in the kitchen behind her. ‘While I sort the brandy butter for the pudding.’

  Roisin mustered up a smile and left quick smart, having no desire to be alone with the older woman. She wandered back to the dining room where Noah was playing with his plastic car and Colin, who’d set out fresh glasses, was filling them with a sweet dessert wine. The air was heavy with the memory of all the food they’d just consumed. How strange it was to feel like she was in the room with a stranger but as she looked at Colin that was exactly how she felt. She could sense his underlying animosity at the situation they were now in as he put the wine down on the table and sat back down to stare into his glass. They were both struggling with how they were supposed to be around one another. The idea of chit-chat seemed like such a lot of hard work. Divorce had not been on Colin’s agenda but then neither had losing their home. She’d have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t hidden the whole sorry mess from her. He’d gone behind her back re-mortgaging their home, not bothering to consult her in his arrogant certainty his business gambles would pay off.

  She’d wondered more than once when he would have bothered informing her that he’d lost everything or whether he’d been planning to leave it up to the bailiffs to let her know. One thing she did know was she wouldn’t have lasted five minutes under Elsa’s roof while he toiled away at getting back on his feet. He would too, men like Colin always did. He was a mover and a shaker, he knew people, and he’d climb back up his corporate ladder. He’d get over their marriage break-up too. They weren’t and never had been a well-suited couple and his shonky business deal had merely been the catalyst not the cause of their going their separate ways.

  She took a sip of the wine, which was too sweet for her liking, and watched him from under her lashes. She wondered if he’d already met someone else. She examined that thought. It wasn’t him moving on with another woman that bothered her, good luck to whoever filled her boots. What did bother her was whether that woman would be kind to her son. The way Colin operated he’d probably be engaged by the time she got wind of him having someone on the scene. Ah well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Shay sprang to mind.

  Shay with his slightly too long hair and lanky laidback demeanour. Oh, and the way he handled that fiddle of his. She’d met him on her last trip home and the timing couldn’t have been worse. They’d only talked twice, the first time being at Aisling’s other half’s restaurant, Quinn’s. He’d been playing the fiddle in the band and she’d literally locked eyes with him across the crowded room. They’d gone for a coffee too, just before she left Dublin, and aware of her messy situation he’d asked if ever he was in London, perhaps he could look her up. She’d taken his number and given him hers but she’d not heard a word since and she didn’t have the nerve to call him.

  There’d been an attraction between them that she’d never felt with Colin. Would she see him when she was back in Dublin? Her insides quivered at the thought of him. And then she had the same discussion she’d had with herself every time she’d thought about Shay since she’d returned to London.

  You’re too old for him, Roisin. Sure, cop on to yourself, you’re not in your twenties anymore you’re nudging the dark side of your thirties and you’re carrying cargo-sized emotional baggage. No man wants to sign on for that.

  I’m not that old, thank you very much, and nobody would think twice about a man going out with a woman a few years younger than him. Why is it always different when the tables are turned?

  How should I know? It just is and it’s more than a few years.

  Jaysus, I’m not after wanting to marry the fella, but a ride would be nice.

  Yes, I’d have to agree with you on that one.

  The dialogue usually closed there and a vivid scene in which she was riding Shay triumphantly toward the finish line would play out. It was the best bit but there was to be no imaginary riding today, not with the Christmas pudding having just arrived.

  Elsa was carrying the dish as though it were the royal crown being brought to her Majesty. Noah’s plastic car was forgotten and he was sitting up very straight in his chair staring eagerly at the steaming podgy dome as it was placed with reverence on the table. He was keen to sink his teeth into it because Granny had told him there were five-pence pieces hidden in it. Just so long as he didn’t break a tooth or the like chomping into it, Roisin thought, catching a whiff of whisky and brandy butter. Jaysus, he’d be pie-eyed by the time he’d finished. Elsa doled the boozy pud out and Roisin debated whether she should suggest Noah might be better off with a bowl of ice cream. There’d be no money hidden in that though and it was only a small portion Elsa was giving him, so she decided to stay mute. Well, almost.

  ‘Noah, chew carefully,’ she warned as he tucked in. A moment later he gave an ecstatic cry and made a show of spitting the pudding out before poking his tongue out to show everyone the foil wrapped money.

  ‘Okay, son, that’s enough now.’ Colin finally decided to parent as Noah did his best Gene Simmons impersonation before taking the money off his tongue and putting it down on the table.

  Roisin eyed Elsa, who’d also found treasure and then Colin, who grimaced as his teeth clamped on something solid. She rifled through her pudding with her spoon but there was nothing in it other than fruit. The old bat had probably rigged it that way, she thought, stuffing the rest of it down her, knowing she was going to feel queasy later when the gamey meat and brandy butter decided to rendezvous in her stomach.

  The clatter of spoons ceased and Roisin got up, keen to disappear into the kitchen for a bit of peace. Between Noah’s monologue about how much he’d love a gerbil for Christmas and Elsa’s chatter about how the council were letting the bin men away with murder, and Colin going on about a new deal her head was beginning to hurt. ‘I’m on dishes, Elsa. It’s only fair, you did all the hard work cooking.’ She didn’t receive any argument and she left them to retire to the front room once more to let their lunch go down and hopefully let Noah rip into a few of the packages under the tree. She set about clearing the table, carrying them through to the kitchen and stacking them on the worktop. She felt rather Cinderella-like as she rolled her sleeves up and plunged her hands into a sink full of sudsy water.

  What was it Mammy used to say to them when they’d moan and groan over their chores? Roisin pondered, wiping down the worktop once she’d finally finished. ‘You girls are making a mountain out of a molehill. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph if you spent as much time doing the dishes as you do moaning about being asked to get off your arses you’d have been back giving yourself the square eyes in front of that idiot box by now.’ It made her smile. Well, Mammy, you’d be proud of me now, she thought casting her eyes around the sparkling kitchen. Elsa would have no cause for complaint either, it was shipshape. As she hung the tea towel over the oven door, she heard a squeal. It was a good squeal, an excited one and she was keen to see what had prompted it. In just over two hours she’d be on her way home; the thought put a spring in her step as she
ventured back to the warmth of the front room.

  Her son was sitting with his back to the door she saw pushing it open, and wrapping paper was strewn every which way. Noah heard her come in and swung his head around, his face lit up like the fairy lights on the tree. She’d put money on it not being a new dressing gown or bubble bath that had him grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Look, Mummy, look. This is the best Christmas ever!’

  ‘What is it?’ She smiled, his enthusiasm infectious as she glanced over at Elsa and Colin who were both perched on the edge of the Ercol sofa looking smug. The chinless gene had clearly been passed down from mother to son but had, mercifully, bypassed her handsome little lad. She turned her attention back to Noah who was swivelling round on his bottom dragging something along for the ride.

  ‘Mummy,’ he announced proudly, ‘come and meet Mr Nibbles.’

  Jaysus, feck! Roisin jumped as something made a scuttling sound. She was looking at a cage, she registered. A cage in which a chubby, brown and white gerbil was happily rifling through the torn paper scattered over the bottom of it. She blinked just to make sure she wasn’t imagining things but no, the fat little mammal was showing off now doing a circuit on its wheel. Anger pricked through the surprise like a pin popping balloons. How dare Colin buy their son his first pet without checking in with her. She was going to be fun mammy, the mammy who bought her son a gerbil for Christmas. She conveniently pushed aside the little voice that said, “no you weren’t”. The point was she might have and now that choice had been snatched from her. Why hadn’t he asked her how she felt about Noah getting a gerbil? Roisin knew the answer to that question. He hadn’t asked because Colin never did. Colin did what he wanted to do. She was and always had been an irrelevant member of their family. She pivoted exorcist style to glare at him.

  ‘It would have been nice if you’d talked to me about—’