Maria knew she’d be laughing about this later when she relayed the tale to her husband over their porter cake and dollop of cream but right now she was summoning all the strength she had. ‘Okay then, I think we’ll start with We’ve Got Tonight.’ She shuffled her sheet music until she found what she was looking for and placed it on the stand in front of her. ‘All set?’
Maureen rattled her tambourine to signal she was ready as she’d ever be.
‘Here we go.’ Maria began to play the opening notes, launching into the song effortlessly.
Maureen was mesmerised and she missed her cue to join in. ‘You’re very good,’ she said when Maria stopped playing to see what the issue was. ‘If I shut my eyes, I could believe you were a man.’
‘Why don’t you shut your eyes then, Maureen.’
Maureen eyed Maria. Who’d have thought she’d have such a big man voice inside of that little chest. She also thought she’d detected a slight smart-arse tone in her voice just now, something she was well versed in thanks to her children. She let it go.
‘We’ll start at the top then, shall we?’
Maureen rattled the tambourine and Maria wished she could sit on her hands because she was sorely tempted to grab hold of it and throw it over the hedge outside.
This time, they ran through the whole song with Maria only feeling unnerved once when Maureen suddenly draped herself over the piano with a passionate look on her face as she did her Sheena bit.
Next, they rehearsed Islands in the Stream and this time there was no piano lounging although Maria did notice Maureen had sucked in her tummy and thrust her chest out in order to perform her version of Dolly.
‘Well, Maureen,’ Maria said, her hands resting on the keys. ‘I think you’re as ready as you’ll ever be. That was great. You nailed both songs. You play the part very well. Song is just as much about performance as it is simply singing the lyrics.’
‘Thanks a million, Maria. I’ve enjoyed these lessons so. But I’m not quite ready there’s one more thing I need to do.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Maria held her breath in the hope there were no more Sheena, Dolly songs about to be requested.
‘Yes. I need a stage outfit and there’s a boutique down on the main street here where I think I’ll be able to find just the thing.’ Maureen could have worn her red Chinese silk dress she’d had made in Vietnam. She’d been wearing it the night she met Donal. Or, she could have worn her electric blue, wrap dress but she wanted something new. Something special to wear for what was going to be a very special occasion after all. Her debut performance.
‘Good luck, Maureen. You’ll make a grand Sheena so you will.’
‘And Dolly, Maria. Don’t forget Dolly.’
Chapter 33
‘Hello there, Ciara, how’re ye today?’ Maureen bustled inside the clothes shop with a brown paper bag in her hand. She put it down on the counter in front of the startled girl. ‘I’m after bringing you in an egg sandwich for your lunch.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Ciara blinked. Now she recalled who this random woman depositing food parcels on her counter was. She was the electric blue wrap dress lady who’d cast aspersions on her mammy for not feeding her.
‘Not at all. Now then, when you’ve eaten, I’d like your help again with an outfit for a special occasion. The wrap dress has had lots of compliments.’
‘Is someone getting married?’ Ciara brightened, she loved helping her customers choose mother-of-the-bride or groom outfits.
‘Jaysus wept, no! Sure, we’ve just got through one wedding in the family.’
‘An anniversary then?’ Ciara pulled the thick triangle of white bread and eggy mayonnaise from the bag and stared at it. It was enormous, three meals in one.
‘No, I’m performing on Saturday night, on the stage like, at a seventieth birthday party and I’m after something with a country and western feel to it but it’s got to be class, too, if you know what I mean.’
Ciara hadn’t a clue but she was enjoying her sandwich.
‘A word from the wise, Ciara.’ Maureen said. ‘Don’t eat so fast or you’ll give yourself the indigestion. I’ll have a little browse about the place.’
Maureen busied herself looking at the different styles as the smell of egg drifted about the shop. It was very strong, she hadn’t thought of that. Still and all, Ciara over there was virtually inhaling the thing. Poor love was half starved.
‘I’ll be with you in half a tick,’ Ciara called over.
‘Another word to the wise,’ Maureen called back. ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full.’ Sure, that girl’s mam was a disgrace so she was, not feeding her and not teaching her any manners.
Maureen had pulled a dress she liked the look of off the rack and when Ciara had finally finished her sandwich she stalked over in heels, reminding Maureen of exactly that, a stalk.
‘I enjoyed that, thank you.’
Maureen took a step back from the full-frontal egg breath assault. ‘Not a bother. Now what do you think to this? She held up the red dress with the black belt trying to picture it with the white Stetson Laura had offered to loan her. She’d have to get some matching boots, she decided, not fancying her chances of sourcing a pair of white cowboy boots in Howth. A trip to the city would be needed.
‘No, no, no. You’d look like Mrs Claus in that,’ Ciara tutted, whisking it away and flicking through a colourful rack until she uttered a self-satisfied, ‘Perfect.’ She held it up for Maureen to see.
It was yellow and lacy with a sweetheart neckline and nipped-in waist, quite unlike anything Maureen had worn before. ‘I’ll look like Loretta Lyn in that.’ She snatched it off Ciara who was about to ask who Loretta Lyn was, but Maureen was already locking the fitting room door whipping everything off in order to try it on.
‘Are you ready?’ she called out a minute later.
‘Ready!’
Maureen unlocked the door and waltzed on to the shop floor with a swagger she felt was suitably countrified. ‘Now, Ciara, I want you to pretend I’m wearing a white cowboy hat and I’ve matching boots on.’
Ciara nodded.
‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking you look like you’re about to burst into a country and western song.’
It was exactly the response Maureen was hoping for. She made to leave the shop with her new yellow, lacy dress, wrapped in tissue paper tucked inside a bag with the boutique’s name on it, when the door opened. She stepped aside to allow a woman with big black sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head, despite their being no sign of the sun anymore, over the threshold. Before she could venture forth however, Maureen laid a hand on her arm and leaned in to whisper. ‘If you’re wondering what the smell is in here, I want you to know it wasn’t me or Ciara there behind the counter. She’s after having an egg sandwich is all.’ She’d hate for the woman to think badly of either of them.
Chapter 34
1971
Bronagh didn’t want to tell her mam she wouldn’t be spending the weekend in Tramore with Hilary and the family, after all. Not in front of Kevin. She’d stood in the hallway holding the phone in her hand, even though her sister was no longer on the other end, and taken a moment to compose herself. Her disappointment was like a big rock bearing down on her and she hoped it didn’t show as she ventured back into the kitchen.
‘Who was that on the phone ringing at teatime?’ Myrna asked disapprovingly.
‘Only Rhoda,’ Bronagh fibbed, her friend’s name the first that had sprung to mind. ‘I told her I’d call her back later.’
‘Rhoda should know better. Sit down and have your meal, Bronagh, before it gets cold,’ her mam bossed. She was always livelier when Kevin was here, more like the mam of old. He was good for Mam just like he was good for her.
Bronagh glanced at his plate. He’d nearly cleaned his meal up and before she sat down, she offered him another sliver of the tender, salted meat carved on the chopping board.
‘I won’t
say no.’ He grinned and forked a slice on to his plate. ‘And a smidge more gravy if there’s any left.’
Pleased he was enjoying her meal she passed him the jug then sat down. Her appetite was gone but somehow, she managed to get the rest of what was on her plate down her. At least she hadn’t loaded it up, wanting to make sure there was plenty for Kevin. Her trousers had been feeling on the snug side lately, she’d needed to cut back on her serving size. Mam ate like a bird most of the time but tonight she’d managed a decent helping which was good to see. The last mouthful lodged in her throat and she got up from the table quickly and fetched a glass of water to swallow it down with.
‘You go and watch your programme, Myrna,’ Kevin said as they all placed their knives and forks down. ‘I’ll help Bronagh wash up.’
‘Ah, you’re a grand lad, Kevin. Your mammy ought to be proud of you.’ Myrna patted his arm and turned to Bronagh her eyes shining. ‘That was a lovely meal.’
Bronagh’s heart broke for her own disappointment and for her mam’s as she watched her shuffle slowly back to the front room to settle in for her show.
‘It was.’ Kevin patted his middle. ‘I’ll be getting a belly on me if I don’t watch it.’ He rolled up his sleeves having proven himself to be a handy washer-upper while Bronagh dried and put the dishes away. As they toiled, he rambled on about all the places he’d take her to see around Donegal. The Slieve League cliffs, Ballymastocker Bay and, if they had time, they’d take the ferry to Arranmore Island. He pulled the plug from the sink and the water gurgled down the drain. His gaze when he turned it on Bronagh was quizzical. Her quietness since dinner hadn’t escaped him but he didn’t say anything, figuring Bronagh would tell him if something was bothering her. ‘Shall we head down for a pint?’ he asked cheerfully as she hung the tea towel over the oven door handle.
Bronagh nodded and went to fetch her coat from the hook in the hallway. She couldn’t bring herself to wear her new one, not now, in fact she may as well take it back to the store given the tag was still attached. She popped her head in on her mam who was laughing at something on the television. She’d leave her tonight, tell her in the morning. ‘Kevin and I are going for a drink down at the Four Horses, Mam. I’ll be home later.’
‘Enjoy yourselves.’
‘G’night, Myrna.’ Kevin called.
She held her hand up in an absentminded wave not wanting to miss a second of her programme and Kevin and Bronagh ventured out into the still night.
Powdery snow was falling, muffling the world around them. Bronagh wondered if it would settle or if it would be gone by morning as though it had never been there in the first place. Kevin’s arm was draped around her shoulders adding to the heavy weight she was carrying as they walked along in silence. They only passed one other hardy soul braving the cold on the short jaunt to their local.
Gerry, the publican at the Four Horses, greeted them in his usual jocular manner and Bronagh went to sit at an empty table as far away from the door, to avoid the draft each time it opened, as she could find. She took her coat off and settled in her chair, toying with the beer mat as she waited for Kevin to return with their drinks and a packet of his customary Big D peanuts, despite not long having had his dinner. A pint wasn’t a proper pint without a packet of peanuts, he’d maintain. A haze of smoke hung over the room and the traditional music was underway, several people clapping along and stamping their feet.
She’d have to shout to be heard, she thought, watching as Kevin weaved around the tables, the packet of peanuts tucked under his chin, a pint glass in one hand and her glass and bottle of Babycham in the other. He put her drink down in front of her and then took the packet out from under his chin, plopping the nuts down on the table. Lastly, he placed his pint glass down, before pulling the chair out and sinking into it.
‘Is everything alright? You’ve been quiet since dinner,’ he asked, leaning across the table to be heard.
‘Not really. It wasn’t Rhoda on the phone. It was Hilary.’
He raised an eyebrow over the top of his pint glass. He knew there wasn’t much love lost between the sisters. ‘Did she say something to upset you?’
‘Only, Erin’s got the flu, there’s no question of Mammy going to Tramore for the weekend.’ Her insides twisted at the unfairness of it. Why now? She knew she was being irrational; it wasn’t Hilary’s fault her daughter was sick but she’d been so looking forward to their weekend in Donegal and she couldn’t possibly go now.
‘I’m sorry, Kev,’ her voice cracked, ‘I’m not going to be able to go with you to Donegal. It’s too short a notice to sort anyone else out to stay and I don’t want to make a fuss about it because Mam will feel badly enough as it is.’
‘You could leave her, it’s only for a night or two. One of her friends or a neighbour could call in and check on her,’ Kevin said, sitting back in his chair and running a finger around the rim of his pint.
‘No,’ Bronagh shook her head, wishing he wouldn’t make this harder than it already was. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on Mam. She’s used to someone else being in the house at night with her. What if she got up in the night and fell? I couldn’t live with myself.’
She had to strain to hear as Kevin said, ‘But it was all arranged.’
‘I know,’ she took his hand. ‘I was looking forward to it so much but Mam needs me. You know how it is, Kev.’
His expression was sulky and Bronagh dropped his hand feeling a frisson of annoyance penetrate her despondent mood. He was behaving childishly because he did know how it was, he’d known it right from the start. She wasn’t free to come and go and she didn’t mind because she loved her mam. Things were what they were. She and her mam, they were a team and they came as a package deal. She leaned back in her chair and focused on the band playing in the corner of the pub grateful their music meant she didn’t have to try and jolly things along by making conversation.
When Kevin kissed her good night after walking her home later that evening, Bronagh detected a cooling between them that hadn’t been there before.
Chapter 35
‘Maureen, you look wonderful, sure you remind me of—’ Donal said.
‘Loretta Lyn.’ Maureen supplied for him preening in her lacy yellow, nipped-in-waist dress.
‘Exactly what I was going to say.’
He leaned in to kiss her and she turned her head at the last minute so his lips landed on her cheek. ‘I can’t have lipstick all over my face, Donal,’ she said. ‘Not when I’m going to be performing shortly.’
‘Fair play to you but what about after you’ve performed?’ He winked.
She giggled, girlishly. Donal had that effect on her.
‘Before we go, I’ve something for you.’
‘Oh yes?’ She hadn’t noticed his hands were behind his back and she waited to see what he was hiding.
He produced a tambourine and Maureen gasped because it wasn’t at all like the one, she’d been rattling at Maria’s these last few weeks. Oh no, this was a top of the line tambourine. Sure, it was the sort Stevie Nicks herself would be proud to get her hands on. It was white and gold and the nicest thing she’d ever been given, engagement and wedding band aside. ‘I love it,’ she breathed, eager to take it from him to give it a few shakes. The sound was warm and cutting.
Donal beamed. ‘It’s got nickel plated and brass jingles and the shape’s designed for natural arm and hand motions.’
‘I love it,’ she reiterated.
‘I thought you could use it tonight so you can be part of the whole set instead of just the two duets.’
‘Do the lads not mind?’
‘No, they think it’s a grand idea, but they will mind if we don’t get on the road. Are you ready?’
‘Let me get my hat and I’m good to go.’
Maureen was fidgety with excitement as she rode in the van with Donal, who was driving, and the rest of the lads from The Gamblers whom she’d only met briefly once before. They were most accommodating and she c
ould hear from the jokes being cracked in the back that they were all in good form. She could also tell they weren’t used to having a lady along for the ride. Ah, well, at her age it’d take more than a ribald joke to make her blush. The tambourine was on her lap, jingling each time they went over a bump. Her hat, borrowed from Laura, was firmly in place and her new boots were squeezing her toes but she’d survive. There hadn’t been a lot to choose from in the way of white cowboy boots, even in the city, and so she was stuck with a toe-pinching pair. She had the prime spot in the front passenger seat of the van next to Donal and whenever they were illuminated by a street light she’d admire the yellow sheen of her dress and resist the urge to pinch herself. She, Maureen O’Mara, was off to a party where she was going to be singing with the band. Sure, life could take some funny twists and turns. It was what made it so worthwhile, the not knowing what was around the corner and, just when you thought you’d hit a dead end, lo and behold a new road opened up.
The party was being held in a local rugby club which Donal located after only one wrong turn. He reversed the van up to the entrance so as they wouldn’t have to lug their gear far. The car park only had a smattering of other vehicles in it; not surprising, given they were arriving an hour before the party was due to get underway in order to set up.
‘You go on inside, Maureen,’ Donal said. ‘There’s no need for you to be hanging about in the cold while we get organised.’
Maureen did as he’d suggested, pushing open the doors as though entering a saloon and venturing into the club rooms where the party was to be held. Bright red, blue, green and yellow clumps of balloons were dangling from the ceiling beams and a banner with ‘Happy 70th Birthday Nora’ was strewn across the top of the bar. Her nose was instantly hit with the stale smell of beer, cigarettes and sweat but overriding them was the far more alluring aroma of heating pastries. There was a fella behind the bar polishing glasses and he looked up upon hearing the doors open.
The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2 Page 58