The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2

by Michelle Vernal

  ‘Bribery, Bronagh, that’s terrible so it is!’

  ‘Needs must,’ she muttered as Noah began to tell her all about Mr Nibbles and his anxiety-driven bowel issues when it came to air travel.

  ‘Serves you right,’ Roisin whispered, leaving them to it and calling back over her shoulder, ‘Send him up when he’s finished, Bronagh!’ She took the stairs two at a time. It was quiet in the guesthouse at this time of the day with most of the guests still out and about exploring. The landings were deserted, and Ita, the young girl in charge of housekeeping—Idle Ita as Moira called her—would be long gone for the day. This in-between time of day had always been Roisin’s favourite when she was a child, she and her siblings had had the best games of hide-and-seek when they’d had the run of the old place.

  The stairs creaked as she headed up the last flight to the family’s apartment. Home, she thought, pushing the door open and hearing her youngest sister shrieking, ‘Get that fecking dog away from me, Mammy, I mean it!’ Yes, she was home.

  Chapter 9

  Roisin walked into a scene whereby Pooh had Moira trapped up against the kitchen worktop and Aisling was bent double laughing as she said, ‘Your face, I wish I had a camera.’ Maureen was already ensconced on the sofa like the Queen Mother and was patting her leg trying to get Pooh to come hither. ‘Mammy, if you don’t get off your arse and get him off me right now, I’m not going to let you have any dessert.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A New York cheesecake, Marks and Spencer’s.’

  ‘Ah now, Moira, that’s not fair. You know the New York one is my favourite.’

  ‘Well, sort your dog! Stop licking me you, you... and you can stop laughing.’ That was aimed at Aisling.

  ‘Rosi! How’re you?’ Aisling got to her sister first for a hello hug. They were elbowed aside by Maureen as she took action, taking Pooh by his collar and steering him into the living room towards a bed identical to the one at her apartment.

  Roisin and Moira embraced and then Roisin stood back looking from sister to sister. ‘You’re both looking really well.’

  ‘It’s because we’re getting some.’

  ‘I heard that!’ Maureen said sitting back down.

  Roisin laughed. ‘Well all the riding obviously agrees with you both.’ The banter made her think of Shay but she vanquished him by staring at the red onion Moira had been slicing into for the salad before the Pooh assault. She didn’t want to be caught out by her eagle-eyed sisters, one grilling from Mammy had been quite enough!

  Maureen made them all jump by shrieking, ‘Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, four hundred and fifty pound for the privilege of swanning about in your nightie.’ She was holding up one of Aisling’s glossy fashion mags and on inspection the model pouting at the camera did look like she was in her nightie, Roisin decided. A nice one, but still a nightie.

  Moira muttered, ‘I don’t think you are in a position to comment on the world of fashion because the last time I checked, pants that could stop the blood supply to your bits were not in vogue. Where did you get them from and who told you they looked good?’

  Roisin and Aisling sniggered waiting for Moira to get told off but Mammy hadn’t heard—she was too busy flicking the pages of the magazine.

  ‘They are on the snug side,’ Aisling said, and Moira snorted.

  ‘Snug? Sure, I can see what she had for breakfast. One wrong move and she’ll have the arse out of them. How could you let her out of the house, Rosi? It’s disgraceful so it is.’

  ‘When did anyone ever talk Mammy out of anything?’

  ‘True.’ Her sisters nodded, each lost in their own recollections of run-ins with their headstrong mammy.

  Roisin explained to them both how their mammy had come to be wearing yoga pants a couple of sizes too small for her, getting a sympathetic tut from them both at the way she’d hustled them off her. ‘She pinched my new teal River Island sweater the other week. It’ll be all baggy around the boobs by the time I get it back,’ Moira moaned.

  ‘Well, all I can say is watch your knickers girls, she’s on about giving the thong a whirl.’

  ‘Ewww!’ The pair of them grimaced.

  ‘What are you lot on about in there?’

  ‘Nothing, Mammy.’

  Noah burst through the door at that moment, bouncing in to give his aunties a cuddle before taking a great big gulp of air to begin another round of the gerbil chronicles.

  Roisin helped herself to two glasses of the red Aisling was obviously enjoying, given the purple stain on her lips. She saw the glass of Coke fizzing on the bench by the salad the pair of them were in the throes of tossing together. Moira was still on the wagon then, she thought approvingly, hoping Noah didn’t spot it. He’d be like one of those old Alvin and the Chipmunks records if he got stuck into the fizz. She carried the wine over to the sofa and handing Mammy the long-stemmed glass she plonked down next to her. ‘Something smells good, doesn’t it?’ She took a sip, savouring the aroma as Moira opened the oven to check on the contents, sending a thick garlicky aroma wafting over.

  ‘Moira’s on dinner and she’ll tell you she’s after making it from scratch but don’t believe a word of it. I saw the box in the bin. It’s a Marks and Spencer’s family sized lasagne. I hope it’s not too heavy on the garlic,’ Maureen sniffed. ‘Garlic gives me reflux.’ She patted her chest.

  Roisin smiled, not about the reflux because a windy Mammy was nothing to smile about, but at Moira’s lack of prowess in the kitchen despite Mammy’s best efforts to teach her how to cook over the years. Ah well, so long as she got fed, she didn’t care what was put in front of her. The walk along the pier had left her ravenous. She enjoyed a few more sips of wine and then, as Noah moseyed over with a piece of garlic bread in his hand, she got up to see if she could snaffle a piece.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t.’ Aisling slapped her hand. ‘I only gave it to Noah to stop him going on about that Mr Nibbles of his. He told me we’ll get the privilege of actually meeting him when you come and stay on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait.’

  ‘It was Colin’s big idea to get him a gerbil.’

  ‘Always said he was a chinless feck,’ Moira piped up.

  ‘Shush. Big ears are always flapping,’

  ‘Whose Noah’s or Mammy’s?’ Aisling asked.

  ‘Both.’ Roisin leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘Guess what happened when we went for a walk down the pier with Pooh this afternoon.’

  As Moira began dishing out the lasagne and Aisling broke up the garlic bread, Roisin made them both laugh with her impersonation of a Scandinavian woman using bad language.

  ‘That poodle has behavioural issues,’ Moira said, then, indicating the cutlery drawer, ‘You could set the table, Rosi.’

  Roisin did so while Noah petted Pooh who was lying with his head resting on his paws. His doggy face in repose looked like butter wouldn’t melt. ‘Go and wash your hands, Noah, we’ll be eating in a minute.’

  Her son huffed and puffed out of the room narrowly missing his Aunty Moira who was carrying two heaped plates of food over to the table. Pooh waited until they were all seated and Maureen had said the grace before getting up and wandering over to the table. He sat at Aisling’s feet having decided she was likely the softest touch and stared up at her with huge baleful eyes begging for a morsel. ‘Mammy, he’s making me feel ever so guilty.’

  ‘Ignore him, Aisling, he could win an Oscar for his role in Starving Dog, so he could.’ Maureen tutted, forking up the mince and pasta dish enthusiastically.

  ‘This is delicious, Moira,’ Roisin said, winking across the table at her mammy and receiving a ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, Rosi,’ in return.

  Noah’s eyes whizzed from one family member to the other, unused to so much banter at the dinner table.

  Roisin caught up on her sisters’ news as she tucked into her meal. Moira was immersed in her course at the National College of Art and Design and after an initial rocky start as she got used to being a
student and no longer having a disposable income, she was loving it. She and Tom were getting along very well and before she could launch into exactly how well, Mammy interrupted by asking her to pass the salt. Aisling was kept busy ensuring the smooth turning of the cogs at O’Mara’s during the day and was spending most of her evenings at Quinn’s these days. ‘Shay was asking after you last week when his band was playing. I told him you were coming home for Christmas. Meaningful and inuendo-laden glances were exchanged around the table but with Noah at the table nobody said a word on the subject. Roisin adopted her best, ‘So what?’ expression as her stomach did flip-flops. He’d been asking after her. He knew she was going to be home. Perhaps she could leave it all to fate and just see what happened. She realised Aisling was speaking. ‘What did you think of the Californian Giant Redwood on display downstairs?’

  ‘It’s gorgeous but it is big, you’ll have problems fitting everyone in reception if you have any large groups due to arrive.’

  ‘It’s a health and safety hazard, is what it is,’ Aisling muttered, before adding she hadn’t a show of getting anything smaller. There was no getting around Bronagh once she’d her heart set on something and her heart had been very firmly set on the biggest tree she could find. ‘She talked one of the tour operators into putting it in their van and delivering it for her, bribed them with a custard cream and a cup of tea, so she did.’

  ‘Now then girls.’ Maureen changed the subject. ‘I’d like us to visit with Father Christmas tomorrow.’

  Moira sniggered and Roisin and Aisling glanced at each other, silently communicating the words, ‘What the feck is she on about now?’

  ‘I’d like to get a family photograph taken with Noah on yer man’s knee and us girls can gather around them. I happen to know Father Christmas is in his grotto at the O’Connell Street, Easons.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I can picture it. It will be lovely to have as a keepsake.’

  ‘I can picture it too, and I’m seeing short red dresses and Santa hats and it’s not happening, Mammy.’

  ‘Don’t lower the tone, Moira, sure it’s Father Christmas we’re talking about here not yer man who runs all those seedy London nightclubs.’

  ‘Peter Stringfellow,’ Aisling added helpfully.

  ‘That’s him, dirty old man, so he is.’

  ‘I want to go and see Father Christmas,’ Noah chimed in.

  ‘There we go then, that’s settled. Tomorrow afternoon. Let’s say two o’clock, and I don’t want any excuses. You’ll not spoil things for Noah here.’

  Nana and grandson looked smugly complicit. He reached over the table for the last piece of garlic bread while his aunties engaged in moaning about being grown women and having to sit on Santa’s knee. His nana was lobbing back that the only one sitting on his knee, thank you very much, would be Noah, when a commotion began.

  Pooh woofed, startling them all silent, before getting up and stalking toward the front door, a low growl emanating from his throat. The O’Mara women looked to one another. It was peculiar behaviour. He began to bark in earnest and they all jumped as they heard the front door bang shut.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Maureen called, ‘State your business.’

  If the sisters hadn’t been feeling nervous, they would have giggled at their mammy’s turn of phrase. Pooh had begun to go berserk and all the guests would be complaining about the noise, and so Maureen bravely stood up to investigate but before she could remove herself from the table a voice boomed.

  ‘Whoever’s dog this is would you tell it to get its nose the hell out of my girlfriend’s crotch?’

  Eyes widened and Maureen disappeared like a lightning streak in the direction of the voice.

  ‘So,’ Aisling said, looking at Roisin and Moira, ‘the prodigal son’s returned home for Christmas.’

  Chapter 10

  He looked good, in a slick American sort of way, Roisin thought, as her brother, larger than life, appeared in the living room. Mammy was hanging off his arm and gazing up at him as though the Messiah himself had wandered into the apartment. Mercifully for Patrick he’d escaped the short gene of the O’Mara women taking after their daddy. Mammy, Roisin saw, had a firm hold of Pooh’s collar with her other hand. He’d always been a good-looking fella their brother and well aware of the fact too. He’d been good fun as well when they were kids. Now though it was as if his features had gotten a little more chiselled, his hair a little more groomed during his time in the States. Everything about him seemed exaggerated. As for his teeth, well they’d definitely gotten whiter. If you were to sit in a darkened cinema with him all you’d see were the whites of his eyes and those pearlies. It would be like when that awful ultraviolet light would flicker at nightclubs and show the flecks of dandruff on your shoulders. She suspected her brother’s new improved smile wasn’t down to flossing and twice daily use of the Colgate either.

  She continued her inspection. His skin had a healthy sun-kissed glow about it, making the rest of his family look like relations of Casper the friendly Ghost, and his clothes had the casually, crumpled cool of the confident man. The man who didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, he was his own boss. For fecks sake, Rosi, you’re not doing an aftershave commercial. She knew though, if he wasn’t her brother and if he wasn’t such a selfish arse at times, she would say he cut a fine figure of a man. All her and Aisling’s friends had thought so back in the day. It had been very annoying.

  A woman materialised from behind Mammy and son. She was wearing a fitted, short pink dress not fit for the Irish winter. It hugged every inch of her upper torso and could rival the snugness of Mammy’s yoga pants. Roisin’s eyes were mesmerised by the twin peaks jutting forth, like two watermelons, disproportionate to the woman’s slender figure. Aisling and Moira were staring too, jaws agape. The woman was keeping a wary distance from the excitable poodle who kept twisting his head trying to catch another glimpse of his paramour. Roisin managed to raise her eyes to stare at the tanned, golden blonde apparition’s face. No wonder Pooh had gone to town, he’d found his dream girl. Patrick’s girlfriend, Cindy, was in fact, Barbie. Come to think of it her brother did have a look of that Ken doll he’d been so fond of talking to when he was small. They were a good match.

  ‘Look who’s here, girls,’ Maureen stated the obvious, ‘your brother. He’s home for Christmas. Sure, it’s the best present any mammy could have and he’s brought his girlfriend, Cindy, with him.’

  Patrick looked down at his mammy and Mammy gazed up at her son and Roisin knew Aisling was choking back gagging noises. Mammy had a short-term memory when it came to her son. They’d barely heard a word since he’d flounced off back to Los Angeles, a sulky, spoiled child after not getting his way over O’Mara’s being sold. Roisin had always sat on the fence where her brother was concerned. Yes, he looked out for number one but she only had one brother and she loved him. He’d pushed her over into Aisling’s school of thought though, with his behaviour this last year. Had he contacted any of them to see how they were getting on? No, he had not, and there was poor Moira who’d been on the sauce making a mess of things. Aisling, too had been heartbroken when that eejit fiancé of hers left her high and dry. Not to mention herself with a marriage break-up and Mammy laid up for weeks with a broken ankle. Now here he was standing there with that irritating smug look she knew so well, waiting to be made a fuss of. Well, he could feck off, she thought.

  Moira, who’d always thought the sun rose and set over her brother, forgot she was annoyed at feeling like he’d abandoned her and she was the first up, throwing her arms around him. The Coca-Cola had gone to her head, Roisin thought, suddenly remembering her manners where his poor girlfriend was concerned. ‘Hello there, Cindy. Welcome to O’Mara’s. I’m Roisin and this is my son, Noah.’ She got up from the table and stepped forward to kiss her brother’s girlfriend on the cheek, receiving a grateful, boob squishy, embrace in return. She smelled like fruity chewing gum, and vanilla and if she hadn’t been full it would have made her hungry. Ai
sling followed suit while Moira joined in with Patrick and Mammy’s mutual admiration society. Poor Cindy would have a hard time getting a look-in with these two on the scene, Roisin thought, giving Noah a nudge to say hello. She looked down at him, seeing he was starstruck with a very silly look on his face not dissimilar to Pooh’s, as he whispered a shy greeting.

  ‘Hey there, honey, aren’t you just the cutest wee man.’

  Roisin watched on amused as her son flushed at the praise.

  ‘It was Patrick’s idea to surprise you.’ She addressed the sisters. Her drawl was more southern than LA and Roisin instantly thought of fried chicken and had to squash the urge to say, Y’all c’mon back now, y’hear.

  ‘Well, you did that. Here, come and sit down, make yourself at home. No, don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure Mammy keeps an eye on him.’ Roisin gave a Pooh the death stare as she led Cindy over to the sofa. Aisling offered her a drink but she didn’t want anything. She looked the type that would keep a watchful eye on her waistline, Roisin decided, a sparkling water and egg white omelette sort of a girl. She couldn’t afford not to be if the dress she was poured into was an indicator as to the rest of her wardrobe. Ha! Just wait until Mrs Flaherty got hold of her! O’Mara’s breakfast cook, believed diet to be a dirty word and you did not mess with Mrs Flaherty.

  Patrick extricated himself from his mammy and Moira long enough to give his other two sisters a hello kiss and hug. ‘Aisling, you’re looking very well on it.’

  Aisling eyed him suspiciously. She was never sure whether you’re looking very well on it meant she looked like she’d been eating all the pies or not.

  ‘And I was sorry to hear about you and Colin, Rosi. I hope you’re doing okay?’

  ‘Ah, sure.’ Roisin waved the comment away. ‘We’re grand.’

  Patrick turned to Noah who was looking at him uncertainly. ‘Now then, young fella, have you a hug for your Uncle Patrick who’s flown all the way from America?’

  ‘I’ve got a gerbil,’ Noah said, testing the water. ‘His name’s Mr Nibbles.’