A Posy of Promises

by Sharon Dempsey

  Ava made her way on into the long galley kitchen and put the kettle on. She lifted a couple of mugs off the draining board, gave them a rinse and set about making coffee. Ava was familiar with the lay out of the pristine kitchen and knew where to find sugar and biscuits. What was it about catastrophe and death to make people reach for the kettle? I suppose it’s something to do, she thought, as she filled two mugs with boiling water. She stared out of the kitchen window across the frost-covered lawn to the shed where Mr Lenaghan had done his potting.

  A few minutes later, Niamh came into the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said, her face mottled red and puffy with crying.

  ‘Come here.’ Ava hugged Niamh and felt her shoulders tense and shudder as if she were making a Herculean effort to hold herself together.

  ‘Oh, Ava, it was awful. Mummy phoned me and I met her over at the Royal but it was too late they couldn’t do anything; he was already gone in the ambulance. It was his heart. The ambulance man explained that they had worked on him for a good hour, laid out on the hall floor, trying to bring him back, but it was no good.’ Her chest heaved.

  Niamh looked so young with her face bare of make-up and her pinky-blonde hair sticking up at odd angles. She was wearing a blue striped pyjama top over a pair of jeans and had an old pair of trainers on her feet with no socks. Ava wrapped her arms around Niamh and let her pour her heart out. She sobbed and rocked, and mumbled about not being there when he died, and how was she ever going to ask him to forgive her for all the things she had done wrong in her life.

  Ava shushed her and stroked her soft hair, knowing that there was nothing she could say to offer solace. The pain and the heartache would need time to subside.

  The house became a hive of people over the next few days. People came day and night to pay their respects and view the corpse. Mr Lenaghan had many friends and ensuring a good wake was their way of honouring his memory.

  On the second night, Ava insisted Mrs Lenaghan and Niamh went to bed to get some rest before the funeral the following day. They were both worn out, tired from the strain of entertaining well-intentioned callers, making endless cups of tea and sandwiches and doing anything but sit still and talk about the man who had left a massive hole in their lives. It was as if they were hiding from their grief, trying to out run its heavy cast iron grip which would floor them the second they acknowledged it.

  ‘But I need to speak to the priest and make sure everything is in order for tomorrow,’ protested Mrs Lenaghan as Ava tried to cajole her into going up to bed.

  ‘Now come on, leave the poor priest alone. You have near enough told him how to bless himself with the orders you have been giving out to him all day. Everything is sorted. The boys are downstairs and will deal with any stragglers coming to say their last goodbyes. I want you and Niamh to have some sleep. You both will need your strength for tomorrow.’

  The weary woman bowed her head and let Ava steer her towards her bedroom. The bed was perfectly made up, with no sign of the panic and disarray of the night her husband had felt the first crushing band of pain in his chest.

  ‘You know when it happened he looked at me and said, “This is it, Mary. I’m on my way out” and do you know I says to him, catch yer self on I’m too busy this week to be organising a funeral. I didn’t mean it, but now I haven’t got him to make fun of.’ She shuddered, her body convulsing in sobs.

  Ava held her tight and let the crying pass in its own time. ‘He knew you loved him. We all did.’

  ‘You’re a good girl, Ava. Eamonn always said you were a good influence on our Niamh.’ Mrs Lenaghan gave Ava a quick, tight hug and settled herself on top of the bedclothes. ‘I’ll not get undressed, I’ll just lie here a wee while and rest my eyes and if anyone needs me you’ll come right up and get me.’

  ‘Of course. Now pull that comforter over you and let me take care of things downstairs.’

  Ava knew Mrs Lenaghan would be asleep in minutes. The poor woman had been without sleep for two nights, and was still reeling from the shock.

  Ava knocked gently on Niamh’s bedroom door, before peeking in. In the pale grey light she could see the outline of Niamh huddled under the duvet and hear her snuffling loudly.

  ‘It’s only me. Can I get you anything?’ Ava asked.

  ‘No,’ she mumbled and sniffed again. Ava walked over and sat on the bed beside her. The room hadn’t changed much from the days when Niamh lived there and they both had spent nights reading Mallory Towers novels to later moving onto contraband Jackie Collins and whispering to each other for fear of waking Niamh’s parents. The walls were painted a pale sickly pink and the floor was still covered with the same blue and pink swirled-patterned carpet.

  Ava could remember sleeping head to toe with Niamh and waking up to find a toe practically lodged in her ear.

  ‘Do you remember the time he drove me to Dublin to start my make-up artistry course? He really didn’t want me to move away and he thought training to do make-up for people was the greatest waste of time and money. He said his bit, but once he knew I wasn’t going to be swayed easily, he helped me pack up my stuff and drove me there.

  ‘The whole way down to Dublin, we laughed and joked, and I felt like I was seven again and he was my whole world. By the time I got to Dublin, I felt homesick and didn’t know if I could go through with it, and he just gave me a hug and said he’d be back for me in a fortnight and if I didn’t want to stay, he’d take me home then, but I would have to give it a go or I’d be blaming him for ruining my chances of doing make-up for some big Hollywood star.

  ‘Of course, he knew fine well I’d love it and it was his way of letting me go. He said he never wanted to let me go without a fight.’

  ‘You were lucky to have him.’ Ava stroked Niamh’s arm.

  ‘I know but it just makes it all the harder losing him. I never made much effort for him of late. Sure, I came over for my dinner on Sundays and if I was stuck for money I would drop by his office, but I didn’t go for walks with him anymore or listen to his stories. Why didn’t I see he wouldn’t be here forever?’

  ‘Try to get some sleep. You will collapse tomorrow if you don’t. I’ll go down and see the boys and head on home. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Okay, thanks, Ava.’

  Niamh’s brothers were gathered in the kitchen with their two uncles, who had travelled from England for their brother’s wake and funeral. They were drinking beers and eating the endless sandwiches and cakes, brought by neighbours and friends. Their voices rose and fell away like the ebb of the sea. She decided not to disturb them and thought she should take a moment to say her own private goodbye to Mr Lenaghan.

  Ava paused before going into the front room. Mrs Lenaghan’s sewing paraphernalia had been moved to make space for the coffin. A tall vase containing calla lilies, sent by Hazel, stood in the hearth with two blessed candles, thick and creamy white, on either side held erect in two elaborate silver candle sticks. Their flames had been extinguished but the smell of melted wax still hung in the room along with the perfume of the flowers.

  In all of the arrangements and the coming and going between checking in on Maggie and looking after Niamh, Ava had yet to view the corpse. When the body had been returned from hospital, with the news they all knew — he had suffered a massive coronary — Ava had hung back and allowed the family time with their father alone. She hadn’t wanted to intrude.

  As the following day passed with a constant stream of visitors paying their respects, she was busy making teas and coffees and washing up to do it all again.

  This had been her first opportunity to say goodbye. She crossed the room, edged with chairs for the many visitors to sit on, and looked down on Mr Lenaghan. His skin looked waxen and stretched, while his pallor was as milky white as porridge. Out of respect, she crossed herself and mumbled a prayer.

  29

  ‘Evie is a lovely name,’ said Ava.

  Hazel smiled looking into the
Perspex crib beside her bed. ‘We’re calling her Evangeline but it is such a big name for a little girl so we’ll shorten it to Evie. She suits it, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah, she really does,’ said Ava as she stared down at Evie, content in a deep sleep, her little chest rising and falling softly with every breath.

  ‘Do you want to hold her?’ Hazel asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to wake her,’ Ava replied, terrified of lifting the rosy pink-skinned infant. Finlay would have scooped her up in an instant but Ava was less familiar with newborns. As if on cue, the sleeping Evie stretched out her little arms and opened her eyes. She blinked at the bright hospital lights and opened and closed her mouth as if trying it out before crying.

  ‘There you go; she wants you to lift her up. She won’t break but watch she is a bit floppy,’ Hazel said.

  Ava’s heart contracted and missed a beat as she carefully lifted the little baby into her arms and cradled her close to her chest. Evie’s pale rose pink lips were pressed tight together as if to say you can cuddle me but don’t disturb me, her nose a little button of cuteness and her fine blonde hair like wisps of candy floss.

  ‘Oh, she is so gorgeous,’ Ava said in a whisper, her heart filled with awe at the tiny scrap of life in her arms.

  ‘I know,’ Hazel murmured, her face lit up with love. ‘We can hardly believe how beautiful she is. I can’t stop staring at her. Even when I know I should be trying to sleep, I just lie there looking at her in amazement.’

  Hazel was sitting up in the hospital bed wearing her dove grey lace and silk nightdress, her skin glowing with a little help from her tinted moisturiser, concealer wand and highlighter cream. She had taken care to pile her hair up into a sexy French roll, looking as glamorous and groomed as usual, despite having spent eighteen hours in labour the previous day. Ava knew Hazel wasn’t going to have people saying she had let herself go just because she had a new baby to look after.

  ‘The nurses cluck around her like she is an angel sent from heaven. Everyone has been so kind and caring,’ Hazel said as she reached her hand over to touch the soft velvet skin of her newborn daughter’s face.

  ‘Robert bawled his eyes out when she was born. He held my hand so tightly I thought he had crushed a few bones! But he was very brave, even went down below for a look when her head was crowning and him so squeamish and all. I thought he would have passed out or run away, but he was great,’ Hazel said, overflowing with pride. ‘He can hardly believe he has a daughter. Keeps calling her his wee princess. And the boys have been lovely; nursing her and bringing her little gifts.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Ava asked, her eyes full of concern for her friend.

  ‘I’m grand. Bit wobbly on my feet for the first six hours but that was just the epidural still in my system. I’ve no stitches, and all being well with Evie, we will be home tomorrow.’

  ‘No blubbering yet?’

  ‘No, but one of the night nurses sat with me last night and warned me that when the milk hormones kick in I might feel a bit down and weepy. Listen, it goes with the territory. I know what to expect.’

  ‘When did you get to be so wise and philosophical?’ Ava asked, handing the now-mewling infant back to her mother with care.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe having her so late in life has been a good thing. But don’t go holding me to all this wise woman wisdom. It’s probably the hormones speaking but you know what, I just want to enjoy her.’ Hazel put baby Evie to her chest and using her free hand scooped out a breast and directed it to the child’s mouth, trying to encourage her to latch on.

  ‘At the minute, the hardest thing has been helping her eat. The nurses keep forcing formula on me telling me she’ll not manage to suck but I want to keep trying to feed her myself.’

  ‘I hear Robert has been busy painting the nursery,’ Ava said.

  ‘Yeah. Even though we knew she was a girl after the amino test came back, we couldn’t bring ourselves to start the decorating until she was here, just in case. I didn’t want to tempt fate. But sure, look at her, she’s just perfect,’ Hazel sighed.

  She was. Ava could see she was really just perfect.

  30

  Ava was clearing up for the night. The shop had been busy all day, and although she had help from the part-time girl, Erin, Ava was exhausted. She just had the rubbish to put out for the bin men and then she could go home. A hot bath followed by a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with a nice cup of strong tea in front of Netflix beckoned.

  Hazel was still on maternity leave but Ava was beginning to doubt if she would ever be able to drag herself away from Evie. The shop was so far down on Hazel’s list of priorities that if it burnt to the ground, Ava doubted Hazel would care. Still, when she did eventually emerge from her maternal stupor, Ava wanted to ensure that Hazel had a well-run business to return to.

  Ava opened the back door of the little yard to set the rubbish bags out when she thought she saw something move. It was hard to see since the yard was so overlooked by the neighbouring shops that it was always cast in shadow at that time of night. She didn’t feel like waiting around so she hurried back into the shop with her heart thumping. God, catch yerself on, she admonished. It was probably only some old stray cat or at worse a rat.

  Ava grabbed her bag and her coat, set the alarm, and headed out to her car. She was just pulling the front shutter down when she heard a voice call out, ‘Hey you.’

  She turned and saw someone come out from the entryway which ran down behind the row of shops. Ava near enough jumped out of her skin.

  ‘If you think you are going to get away with this you can think again.’

  ‘Sorry, do I know you?’ Ava asked trying to sound dismissive and confident when she was actually quaking in her fake Ugg boots.

  ‘You certainly know my boyfriend,’ the girl snarled. She had hair the colour of cherries and it was cut into a harsh bob, all razor edged and precise.

  ‘I think you’re mixing me up with someone else,’ said Ava, trying to turn the lock in the key even though her hand was shaking. This girl was young and slightly built but she seemed unreasonably aggressive and wasn’t making any sense.

  ‘Ben Dale? I’m sure that rings a bell.’ She practically spat the words out as if they were a challenge.

  ‘Who are you?’ Ava asked, pretty sure she knew the answer already.

  ‘Mickey, his girlfriend, and if you want to keep your little flower arranging job you can back off and leave my man alone.’ She turned on her spiked-heeled boots and strode away up Botanic Avenue, leaving Ava with a thumping heartbeat and a dry mouth.

  ‘What? Mickey? And she threatened you, like?’ Ben said scratching his stubble, his eyes wide.

  ‘Not in so many words but she certainly made her point. Said I had to back off or I’d lose my job. Shit, Ben, what if she tells your mum?’ Ava was still shaken up. She knew enough from Hazel to know that Mickey could be a bit off the wall and crazily possessive of Ben.

  ‘But I haven’t been going out with Mickey for over a month now.’

  ‘You could try making sure she knows that,’ Ava said. ‘I don’t appreciate people creeping up on me like that and being nasty.’

  ‘Hey, babe. I’m sorry if she upset you. God, I’ll have a word with her. Trouble is I bet if I ring her, it will be near enough an open invitation in her mind to get back together. She had me tortured for months. It was like going out with a sticking plaster; she couldn’t bear not to be holding hands or kissing, and then if I tried to have any time with me mates she became all moody and jealous. She did my head in.’

  ‘Yeah, your mum told me about her. But just make sure Mickey knows we aren’t an item.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll try.’

  31

  When the call came, Ava had been dragging the old carpet from the stairs in Mount Pleasant Square. She stopped and threw down the heavy carpet, sweat and dirt clinging to her, and took out her phone. It was the Sisters of Mercy care home. They never phoned witho
ut good reason. Ava’s heart raced as she answered. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ava, it’s Sister Lucy here. I’m afraid Maggie has had a turn. We’ve called the doctor and he’s on his way.’

  ‘I’ll be right there.’ Ava hung up and locked up the house, not caring that she was covered in dust and wearing her paint-splattered joggers.

  The drive to the care home seemed to take an eternity but when she arrived Sister Lucy ushered her in.

  ‘She’s okay. The doctor says it’s another stroke. He’s still with her, checking her obs.’

  Ava made her way down to Maggie’s room where she found the doctor packing up to go.

  ‘How is she?’ Ava asked.

  ‘All okay for now. I don’t see the point in moving her to the hospital. I phoned through to the ward and spoke to the consultant, and she is happy enough to let her rest.’

  ‘Okay, thank you.’

  A week later, Ava gently brushed Maggie’s almost snow-white hair. She had rallied round and was slowly regaining her awareness of where she was and who was with her. It had been a sharp reminder of how time was evaporating. Each day was a day closer to when she wouldn’t be there.

  Ava could see with a new clarity how much of Maggie’s life had been dedicated to her family. Loving and caring for her husband, seeing him off to work at the Water Board with his freshly packed Tupperware lunchbox, and his smartly pressed and starched overalls, and then later, looking after the wayward Scarlett, only to lose her to the bright lights of stardom and to find consolation in caring for her daughter Ava. Maggie represented a dying breed of women who literally lived for their family. She sought nothing beyond the four walls of her little neat and sparkling clean terrace house, happy to spend her days with a bottle of Mr Sheen in one hand and a yellow duster in the other.