‘He’ll be staying in his cage for the duration we’re at yours. Won’t he, Noah? Sure, it will be grand, Mammy, don’t worry.’
‘There she goes, Easy-osi, Rosi with her “she’ll be grand” attitude.’ Mammy shook her head and muttered things like dead gerbil and what was that daughter of hers thinking bringing it to Dublin, all the way out to the car.
They’d only just pulled out into the steady traffic when Noah tapped Roisin on the shoulder.
‘I need a wee-wee, Mum.’
Chapter 6
Roisin was nearly knocked to the ground by a yapping blur of woolly black curls as she followed Mammy into her apartment. Noah shot off for the toilet leaving Mr Nibbles on his nana’s dining table and her to fend off Pooh who had a paw resting either side of the top of her legs. She could smell his hot panting, doggy breath as he gazed up at her before trying to bury his head in her nether regions. ‘Mammy, get him off me!’
‘Down, boy,’ Maureen said, giving him a tap.
Pooh ignored her. She looked at her daughter. ‘He likes you, Rosi. He has a thing for the ladies so he does. Rosemary Farrell won’t visit me at home anymore unless I promise to put him in the spare room and you want to hear the fuss he makes when he thinks he’s missing out.’ Maureen got him by the collar and dragged him off her. ‘You’re a very naughty boy, Poosy-woosy, aren’t you?’ She gave him a pat on the head just to really hammer her point home, and a bit of a cuddle before looking at Roisin who was sidling through the apartment with her case positioned in front of her in case he came back for round two.
‘You never spoke to us like that when we were naughty, Mammy,’ she shot back. ‘And you certainly didn’t give us a pat on the head. The wooden spoon on our backside was what we got.’ She was a bit put out by the amount of attention the poodle was receiving. She wondered how Moira was coping having had her position as the baby of the family, one she revelled in, usurped.
‘You only got the wooden spoon when you were bold and I’ve enrolled Pooh in puppy obedience school. He starts in the new year.’ She looked at the poodle and then back at Roisin, lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper. ‘He’s getting his you know what’s seen to as well in January. It’s for his own good but he won’t see it that way, I mean, would you? The vet’s after telling me it will help with aggressive behaviour as he gets older and marking his territory that sorta thing. He won’t get nasties down there either like the cancer. I’m hoping it will help with this habit of going around putting his nose in places it has no business going too because it’s getting out of hand and it’s embarrassing so it is. The rambling girls are beginning to talk thanks to Rosemary.’
‘We can’t have that now, can we?’ Roisin whispered back, and Maureen shot her a look, unsure whether she was being clever or not.
She dared move her gaze from the poodle to the artwork on the wall. Moira’s painting of Foxy-Loxy had won her first place in a well-respected children’s art competition when she was a child. It was nice to see the familiar painting hanging on a wall in a room that otherwise felt strangely out of kilter to her. The apartment opened up into the living room, the kitchen was at the far end and to the right of the open plan space a utility room was tucked away off the kitchen. Over to Roisin’s left was the door that led to the hall where two generous bedrooms were positioned opposite each other. A large picture window was the living room’s focal point. On a clear day it afforded a glimpse of blue from the sea but today she could see the rain spattered glass and knew the view would be murky. She’d grown used to an urban outlook, Roisin realised, and the presence of a yipping poodle her mammy was infatuated with was only exacerbating the feeling of being somewhere new and foreign instead of in her mammy’s home. She’d get used to it she supposed.
Actually, now that she was taking a moment to look around, she realised the living room had a Vietnamese village feel to it. Or, at least how she imagined a Vietnamese village would feel. Although the village houses probably didn’t have sofas and big tellies in them. She smiled recalling the postcard Moira had sent to Noah that made mention of their mammy having gotten very excited over the local village’s handicrafts and she’d been worried she was going to get herself a Joseph and his Technicoloured coat in the local brocade fabric. She’d contented herself with cushion covers and throw blankets instead which were now strewn artfully around the sofa and chairs. Vibrant hues of striped, pink, purple and oranges adding pops of colour to an otherwise neutral décor. Her eyes flitted about the space noting the high gloss, brilliant red, purple and blue lacquerware she’d managed to get home in one piece, on display on the built-in wall shelves. She bit back a laugh seeing the erect, wooden fertility symbol, Mammy had carved on her trip and which she was adamant was in fact a canoe. A row of Christmas cards stood to attention on the next shelf and on the top shelf was the infamous conical hat Moira had been unable to stop her from wearing during their trip. It had feet poking out from under it, she realised frowning, and she could see a tulle skirt too.
Mammy followed her gaze. That’s Annabel under there. I never could stand her but I always think if I put her away, your great granny will strike me down with lightening. That, I feel, is a good compromise.’
Roisin agreed. She’d never liked the china doll heirloom either. It had always felt like she was watching them all, following them about with those icy blue eyes from wherever it was she was perched.
‘Oh, you’ve a tree!’ It was positioned in the smaller window beside the dining table, a fake one but a definite cut above Roisin’s Argos special. It had twinkly fairy lights strewn around its tinsel branches and decorations she knew she’d recognise from when she was a child were she to take a closer look.
‘I don’t know why you sound so surprised. Just because I’m on my own, with the exception of Pooh, doesn’t mean I should let my standards drop and besides it gives the neighbour across the way something to look at. Nosy old bint she is.’
Roisin peered out the window behind the tree half expecting to see a disgruntled old woman peering back at her.
‘Go on and put your bag in your room. You can hang your coats up in the utility room. I’ll put the kettle on. I think we’ll have a nice cup of tea and a slice of Christmas cake. It’s a lovely moist one this year.’
Roisin’s mouth watered at the thought of a nice big slab of Mammy’s fruit cake. Noah wouldn’t like the cake with its boozy, fruity, spiced flavour but he’d snaffle down the marzipan icing no problem.
‘Then I thought we’d wrap up and take Pooh for a stroll along the pier. It might wear him out before dinner with your sisters tonight. Moira’s threatening to do the you-know-what personally if he comes near her again.’
‘He’s not coming, is he?’ Roisin had assumed she’d have a randy puppy-free evening ahead.
‘Oh, I can’t leave him on his own for long, Roisin, it wouldn’t be fair. You wouldn’t have liked it if I’d left you home alone when you were wee, now would you?’
Roisin shook her head. Pooh was clearly part of the family these days and it would seem he was laying claim to being the favoured child despite his dirty ways. If they weren’t careful, he’d be the one Mammy would leave her worldly goods to. She nearly collided with Noah who’d finished his business. ‘Did you wash your hands?’
‘I need to say hello to Pooh.’
‘Hands! Wait a sec and give me that coat.’ Roisin tugged it off him. ‘Now hands.’
He stomped back to the bathroom to complete the job while she hung their coats up on the hooks on the back of the small room off the kitchen. Then she walked back through the living room seeing Mammy was busying herself in the kitchen. She picked up her bag and carried it through to the bedroom. There was no hint of her mammy’s recent trip in here she saw, looking about and noting that it was tastefully done, painted in a soft cream. Curtains in a deeper green framed a window that overlooked the charming street below and a black and white photograph of a lily took centre place on the wall above the bed
. The bed looked inviting with its matching cream and green linen, the pillows she noticed, with a feeling of longing, were plumped to perfection. Roisin was tempted to lie down and rest her head on one just for a few minutes but she didn’t dare leave Noah alone with Mr Nibbles and Pooh for long. Mammy never scrimped when it came to bedding and she knew how to fold corners better than any nurse who’d been trained in the art by a stern matron could.
Yes, she’d be very comfortable in here. Well, as comfortable as she could expect to be with her son in the bed next to her. Noah turned into a prize kickboxer in his sleep! She opened her case and hung a few things in the wardrobe that would be a crumpled wreck if she left them folded in her bag, before opening the door once more. She peeked around it to check Pooh was otherwise engaged and wouldn’t be homing in for another full-frontal assault. He was sitting on his pillow being petted by Noah, all the while watching Mammy. She was laying the tea things out on the table and the puppy had a look of total adoration on his face. She warmed to him, it was nice to know Mammy was loved and looked after, even if it was by a frisky poodle.
‘Mummy?’ Noah got up spying his mother skulking back into the room. ‘I need to change the newspaper for Mr Nibbles.’ He turned his attention to his nana who was putting a few biscuits on a plate. ‘He did lots of poo on the plane because he was frightened, Nana.’
Roisin had a horrible feeling her son had developed a fixation when it came to his gerbil’s motions and that everyone as well as their uncle would have heard about Mr Nibble’s way of demonstrating his fear of flying by the time the day was done. ‘I told Pooh that he has to be kind to him too because that’s what you have to do when someone’s smaller and weaker than you and I don’t want poor Mr Nibbles to do any more poo.’
He’d obviously been paying attention to the Stop Bullying talk his classroom had had the other week then, Roisin deduced. It was a pity he didn’t have quite the same aptitude to listening when it came to the rest of his schoolwork.
‘Neither do I, thanks very much, and Noah get him off my table.’ Maureen gave the cage a push nudging it precariously close to the edge ‘That’s my best lace cloth you’ve got that filthy thing on.’ She looked over at Roisin with her lips pursed disapprovingly and her eyes raked over her daughter, coming to a halt when they reached her pants. ‘Those are nice. They look ever so comfy, especially around your middle.’ She patted her own to emphasise her point.
‘They’re only yoga pants, Mammy. I’ve tons of pairs. I live in them when I’m not working.’ Roisin looked down at the soft, black stretchy synthetic material. They had a folded over waistband that sat on her hips and the leg was bootcut. They were comfortable and her go-to most days. Her days of trying to play the corporate wife, and not very successfully at that, were done. There was a glint in her mammy’s eyes that made her wary of the sudden interest in her pants. She did a quick count trying to remember how many pairs she’d brought with her so she’d know if any went missing. Three, she’d brought three with her. She knew her mammy had developed a penchant for slacks because Aisling and Moira had filled her in on the fisherman pants she was so fond of, although she’d yet to see them for herself. Moira had also been horrified by the amount she spent on a pair of travel trousers for their trip. Mammy’s reasoning had been that she’d needed all the pockets her whizz bang, quick dry pants afforded her. Moira reckoned she was on a mission to burn through the family inheritance.
‘Yoga pants you say. Well I never. Turn around and give us a look at the back.’
Against her better judgment, Roisin did as she was told.
‘Oh, Roisin, they give your bottom ever such a lovely shape. It looks like a peach so it does. Have they secret lift properties in them?’
‘My bum doesn’t need any secret lifting, thank you.’ She craned her neck over her shoulder trying to cop a look at her peach in case things had dropped since she’d last checked.
‘Well, I think they must do because I know your backside as well as I know the back of my hand and it was never that perky. Do you think they’d do the same for mine?’ Maureen was fixated with Roisin’s rear.
‘Jaysus, Mammy, listen to you and stop staring.’ She turned around.
Mammy was unapologetic she had a one-track mind at times and this was one of those times. ‘They’re not just for the bendy yoga stuff, then? You can wear them just because they’re super soft and stretchy but look smart at the same time.’
‘Yes, I wear them all the time for casual.’ Roisin was wearing a white top and had a denim jacket in her suitcase she liked to teem with it but today had been definite coat and scarf weather. She lived in trainers these days too, unlike her sisters who were far more likely to be found compensating for their height with ridiculously high heels. She’d given up the ghost, accepting the crick in her neck from looking up when speaking to those blessed with average height as her lot. Aisling in particular was obsessed with the stiletto and maintained she had no need of the gym because her legs got an intensive workout everyday thanks to her choice of footwear. Any chance she got she’d be flashing you her calves and saying, ‘Sure just look at the muscle tone.’
‘And you’ve tons of pairs you say?’
Roisin saw too late where this was headed.
‘Then you won’t mind letting your dear old mammy try a pair on, now will you?’ She lifted her sweater and showed Roisin the roll of flesh spilling over the top of her black chinos. ‘They’re cutting me in half so they are.’
‘Put it away, Mammy. You’ll give Noah nightmares.’
‘Nana, have you got some newspaper, please?’ Noah was oblivious to his nana exposing herself.
‘I’ll be right with you once your mammy fetches her spare yoga pants for me.’
Roisin knew the look she was currently on the receiving end of. It was a look that said you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Or, in this case—you get me the pants and I won’t kick up about the gerbil.
She went and got the pants.
Chapter 7
‘You’ll find the old newspapers in the bottom cupboard of the sideboard,’ Maureen said, snatching the black pants off Roisin before she changed her mind. ‘I’ll just go and slide these on.’
‘Play tug-o-war, more likely,’ Roisin muttered, going to retrieve the paper. She squatted down and pulled a few sheets of the newsprint loose; the title of a book that had been reviewed jumped out at her and falling back on to her bum she sat cross-legged scanning what the reviewer had to say about it. It was called, ‘When We Were Brave’ by Cliona Whelan. The author had swapped journalism for novel writing after a long career which had seen her at the forefront of women breaking into the male dominated newspaper world in Ireland back in the seventies. This was her first book, Roisin read, her attention well and truly caught. The actual review was all very high faluting and could have been summed up simply by saying this was a great book, I recommend you read it. They were a pretentious lot, those literary types. It did sound like a good story though, she thought, getting up. It would make a good Christmas present for Aisling; she was a reader. The thought of hitting the shops this time of year filled her with dread. It would be chaos but it had seemed silly to lug gifts over from London. She’d take Moira with her, she decided. Moira was good at getting people to move out of the way.
‘Mummy,’ Noah whined, growing ever more impatient, although she saw looking over, he had removed Mr Nibbles from the table. He’d set him down on the floor and was impatient to get on with the task at hand. For Pooh’s part he seemed totally uninterested in the little creature but then, Roisin supposed that was probably because Mr Nibbles was a boy gerbil. That didn’t mean she trusted him though.
‘Come on then, we’ll go in the bedroom to clean it all up.’
‘Oh, no you don’t. You can forget about cleaning that thing inside. Outside with the pair of you.’ Maureen appeared in the living room doorway and gestured to her little balcony. A Parisian style table and chair looked forlorn as they were lashed
by the wind and intermittent drizzle.
Roisin could almost hear the wind whistling from where she was standing. ‘But, Mammy, it’s freezing, the cold would kill him and what if he escapes?’
‘Well you should have thought of that shouldn’t you when you decided to bring that thing with you.’
‘Nana, you’re hurting his feelings and you’re making me feel very sad.’
Another part of the Stop Bullying talk had been about how the children needed to express how they felt. Noah excelled at it and he wasn’t finished yet either.
‘I think you should say sorry to Mr Nibbles, Nana, or I’m going to cry. And, if he ran away or died because he was too cold, I’d be very, very, very, VERY sad.’
Maureen muttered a barely audible, ‘Mr Nibbles my arse.’
‘Mammy, don’t be so mean.’ Roisin added her pennies’ worth and got straight to the point. ‘And come on with you, let’s see the pants.’
Maureen brightened instantly, flashing a big smile as she did her version of a model strutting down the catwalk coming to a halt in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, looking pleased with herself as she struck a pose. ‘I got into them.’
‘I can see that, Mammy.’ Squeezed into them was more to the point. ‘They don’t leave much to the imagination.’
‘They’re grand, look...’ she swung forward bending from her middle, her hair a curtain over her face as she tried to touch her toes and her voice was muffled as she said, ‘I can even do the bendy yoga.’
The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2 Page 5