The Mistletoe Matchmaker

by Felicity Hayes-McCoy

  Now, hearing a footstep in the hall, she went to switch on the kettle. Louisa had flown in from London last night, delighted with the completion of her house sale. She’d said she was very touched by the thought of a celebration dinner, which was just as well because, for the sake of the night that was in it, Mary had washed the good ware. Louisa called it china, but whatever name you put on it, you couldn’t beat the look of a decent plate on a table.

  She’d ironed a tablecloth, too, and it was folded and waiting. They’d have a great meal and, at the same time, a chance to see Hanna’s Brian. Not that Louisa seemed any way curious about him, but then, of course, she wouldn’t be. An ex-mother-in-law wouldn’t feel the tremors of a mother’s heart.

  With the tea made and the cosy on, they sat down at the table. Louisa was tired after her flight, of course, but her eyes had a glint in them. Mary threw her a bit of a wink. They were both widows whose lives had seemed to be over, but look at them now with a new future ahead.

  5

  Cassie arrived at Pearson airport with a bunch of flowers, feeling goofy. As soon as she’d heard about her grandparents’ visit she’d called her sister Norah.

  ‘I wondered if you and the twins would come to the airport. We could make a Welcome banner and the kids could hold it.’

  The moment she’d asked, she’d known that it wasn’t going to happen. The twins were in the background throughout the call and most of Norah’s attention was focused on keeping them quiet.

  ‘Shona, sweetheart, put down the kitty. We don’t hold kitties so tightly. Sorry, Cassie, what did you say?’

  ‘I said it’d be good to have a family welcome at the airport.’

  ‘But aren’t we doing a huge get-together at the weekend?’

  ‘Yes, but I want to do a welcome at the airport as well.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, Cass, you’re just being Min the Match.’

  ‘Being Min the Match’ was a family expression derived from the name of some ancient Irish relation who’d apparently been famous for meddling.

  ‘I am not!’

  ‘Yes, you are. Everything’s already fixed, so just leave it. Anyway, the last thing they’ll want after flights and coping with a transfer is a jamboree at the airport.’

  So Cassie had accepted that the welcome party would just consist of herself and, at the last minute, as she’d headed out for the airport, she’d grabbed a bunch of roses from the hall table. They’d end up coming home in the car and back in the vase they’d been taken from. But at least the grandparents would be greeted with a splash of colour.

  It proved easy to spot them, even though Gran turned out to be smaller than she’d seemed in the photos she’d posted on Facebook, and Grandad looked nothing at all like Dad or Uncle Jim. They emerged from the sliding doors at Arrivals, pushing a trolley piled with bags and suitcases, all secured by monogrammed straps, with red ribbon tied to the handles. They both looked tired and strained. Gran’s eyes flicked anxiously from side to side while Grandad marched doggedly forward, clearly embarrassed by the squeaky wheel on his trolley.

  ‘Hey! Hi, over here!’ Cassie caught their attention and pushed through the crowd, waving her bunch of red roses. She could see Gran’s anxiety turn to relief. Sweeping them both into a hug, Cassie took over the trolley. Gran linked her arm and smiled up at her, though she could feel Grandad resenting the loss of control over the luggage.

  Later, in the car, he sat rigid and uncommunicative in the rear while Gran sat up front next to Cassie and chattered. When she saw the first sign for Leaside, she gave a gasp of delight. ‘I’ve written your address on so many letters and parcels and look at it there, up on a sign by the road!’

  A few minutes later, as the car swung off the highway, Cassie saw Gran’s hands tighten in her lap. ‘You okay, Gran? We’re nearly there.’

  ‘I’m fine, love, just tired. And I’m not used to this side of the road.’

  ‘I guess if you’ve spent a lifetime driving on the left it must feel kind of weird.’

  ‘Well, it is. Not that I was driving all that long. But your uncle Frankie bought me a car a while back and I had a great time for a fair few years before I had to give it up.’ Her hands had been getting a bit stiff, she explained, and her eyes weren’t as good as they used to be. ‘Anyway, I’ve got everything I need around me in Lissbeg. It’s great to be bang in the middle of town, where you can step out your own front door and find all you want within a spit of it. I can walk out into the countryside in no time, too, can’t I, Ger?’ There was no response from behind her and she smiled across at Cassie. ‘Ger does be busy all the time, so I’m lucky not to need lifts.’

  When Cassie pulled into the driveway, Gran gasped again. ‘Oh, Holy God, isn’t that a gorgeous house? Isn’t it, Ger? Look at it!’

  Inside, as Gran exclaimed about the spaciousness of the hallway, Cassie picked up the two smallest bags and announced firmly that the rest could be carried up later. Then she led the way upstairs and ushered them into their bedroom.

  Vanya, Mom’s help, had made up the room with fresh flowers on the dresser and crisply ironed linen on the beds. Cassie opened the door to the walk-in closet, demonstrated how to operate the shower in the bathroom, and how to control the TV and the central heating in the bedroom. ‘Mom and Dad will be home about six but I’m not going anywhere. Come down and have a look round the house as soon as you’d like to, but I guess you’d like time to freshen up first.’

  Grandad stumped across the room and settled himself in an armchair. Gran smiled at Cassie. ‘It’s been a long trip and you’re a dote to have come and collected us. I’d say we might have a rest now and see you later on.’

  With her duty done for the time being, Cassie went to her own bedroom, changed into a bathrobe and slippers and padded down the hall to the family bathroom. Three girls sharing one small shower had led to a certain amount of annoyance on the ship, particularly during the last leg of the cruise, when people were tired and tempers were fraying. Sweating the small stuff wasn’t her thing, so Cassie had breezed through the tensions. Still, it was heaven to soak in a huge tub for as long as she liked.

  Lying back, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift to the future. Everything in her lovely unplanned life was going exactly to plan: she’d completed this last cruise with more than enough savings to take a few months’ break or a road trip before going back to sea. Maybe she’d stay in the city and do some volunteer work. Or take off to Prince Edward Island and admire the fall foliage. Anyway, there was plenty of time to decide, because she’d have to stay home for at least a few weeks to avoid being rude to the grandparents.

  Vanya had gone, leaving the house immaculate, so, having rearranged the roses in their vase on the hall table, Cassie took a glass of milk and some cookies and wandered into the family room. Two hours later, flipping lazily between rolling news and episodes of Judge Judy, she looked up to see Gran standing in the doorway. Cassie smiled at her. ‘Did you get some sleep?’

  ‘Well, I had a bit of a rest anyway. Ger’s above in the bed, dead to the world.’

  Cassie sat up, swinging her legs off the chesterfield. ‘Would you like a coffee? Or something to eat?’

  ‘Do you know what it is, if that’s milk you’ve been drinking I wouldn’t mind a drop myself.’

  She still looked awfully tired, and her voice was a thread. So, having tacitly agreed to leave the tour of the house until later, they settled down to another episode of Judge Judy with glasses of milk and a plate of Vanya’s brownies. Gran, who said she’d never seen the show before, watched with great attention. Then, when the closing credits appeared, she clicked her tongue in amazement. ‘God, you’d think there wasn’t a woman going these days with a tither of wit or a mother! To be putting their trust in men who’d only make fools of them!’ She bit into a brownie and shook her head at Cassie. ‘And old fellows that are just as bad, being led a dance by the young ones!’

  ‘Would your mom have stopped you making a fool of
yourself?’

  ‘You may be sure she would! Mind you, she wouldn’t have let me go moving in with some wastrel pup in the first place. Times have changed, though, and I know that’s what girls do nowadays. And, fair play to them, haven’t they a right to be making their own choices?’ She shook her head disparagingly. ‘No one has a right to be bone stupid, though. Could that old fellow not see that that young one was trouble?’

  The girl had been the kind of mercenary predator that always produced Judge Judy’s most scathing comments. ‘Maybe the danger was what attracted him in the first place?’

  Gran’s voice was emphatic: ‘I wouldn’t doubt you. And, by the sound of it, he wasn’t the first poor woman’s husband she’d made a fool of. What a woman needs is a steady man, and to keep a good eye on him.’

  Looking at the trim little figure sitting beside her, Cassie smiled. Gran might be tired, but clearly she was feisty. It was going to be good to get to know her.

  6

  As Bríd Carney put her key into the front door of number eight St Finian’s Close, she told herself how lucky she was to have this place to come home to. Finding an affordable place in Lissbeg wasn’t easy. The property in the town centre was almost all shops, pubs, and businesses, where the owners either lived upstairs or let out their upper floors as commercial spaces. And people could spend years waiting for a council house. They were designed as family dwellings, too, so it was families that got priority. The result was that if you were young and single your chances of renting were practically zero. But Bríd’s cousin Aideen owned number eight outright.

  Their aunt Bridge had bought it years ago, through a scheme that had briefly driven council policy. Whoever Aideen’s dad was he’d never been round at all, and her mum had died in Carrick hospital having her. It was Aunt Bridge who had brought her up. Actually, she wasn’t an aunt, really: she was some kind of cousin of Bríd and Aideen’s granny. So, basically, Aideen had spent her childhood with two elderly ladies.

  Then, a few years after their granny died, Aunt Bridge had had a massive stroke in the chemist’s and was dead before the ambulance could get there. They found out later that she’d been going to the doctor for a good while, but Aideen, who was in the middle of her Leaving Cert, hadn’t even known she was ill. The rest of the family organised the funeral, and Bríd’s mum offered to take Aideen in till she’d see what she’d do. No one seemed to have a better idea, and Bríd was off doing a culinary-science course in Dublin, so Aideen had had her room for the next few months.

  It must have been pretty awful. By all accounts, she’d sleep-walked through the rest of her exams, and her results weren’t all that brilliant. But then it turned out that Aunt Bridge had left her the house in St Finian’s Close and a bit of money. So when Bríd came home, they’d opened a deli in Broad Street, and decided to live together at number eight.

  It was Bríd who had done most of the organising. Aideen had kept her old bedroom and Bríd had the big one. Aunt Bridge’s room became a little office where they set up the computer and had meetings with their accountant. There was hardly any room in the deli, which they’d called HabberDashery, so they’d turned the dining room at number eight into a storage space for things like takeaway cups and paper napkins. The house had a kitchen big enough for a dining table, and a sitting room with plenty of space for a sofa and chairs and a telly, so it all worked out. They split the utility bills down the middle and Bríd paid a fair rent.

  Now, as she came in the door, she found Aideen and Conor McCarthy in the sitting room. They were drinking tea, curled up together in an armchair and, by the look of them, they’d recently been curled up in Aideen’s bed.

  Conor looked up at Bríd. ‘How’s it going? Will you have a cup of tea?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t like to break up the idyll.’

  As Conor went to put the kettle on, Aideen wriggled round to look at Bríd. ‘How was your swim?’

  Bríd dumped her bag on the floor and pushed her hair back from her forehead. ‘Lovely. Chilly, though. I wouldn’t say I’ll be having many more this year. Not in the sea, anyway. I suppose I could join the gym in Carrick and use their pool.’

  ‘God, I wouldn’t fancy driving to Carrick each day after work.’

  ‘Um. Me neither, really. And the gym costs a fortune.’ She flashed her eyebrows at Aideen. ‘Maybe I’ll be like you and find an alternative way of keeping fit.’ She laughed, seeing Aideen blush. ‘Oh, don’t go all coy on me! I think it’s lovely that Conor and you are so happy.’

  Aideen laughed. ‘I know you do. And how are things going these days with you and Dan?’

  ‘I don’t suppose it’ll work if I tell you to mind your own business?’

  ‘Damn right, it won’t. I’m dying to know.’

  Conor came in with the tea at that point, so Bríd didn’t have to answer. Which was just as well.

  She and Dan Cafferky fancied each other – that much she definitely knew. What she didn’t know yet was how far she wanted to let him into her life. It was one thing to fall into bed with him after a party. That could happen to anyone, especially when they’d been going out together for months when they were at school. But a lot had happened since their schooldays. She’d spent a couple of years studying and working in Dublin and he’d been off to Australia. Stuff like that changed people, and just because they were both back in Lissbeg didn’t mean that they had to get together.

  Admittedly, they’d gone on a couple of dates together after the night of the party. A meal with friends. A trip on his boat, which was actually pretty cool. And, okay, he’d come back to St Finian’s Close a few times. And stayed the night. But they definitely weren’t a couple. With Conor and Aideen all starry-eyed and saving up for their wedding, there was far too much talk going on about people settling down.

  Anyway, Dan’s life was kind of messy. He lived with his parents in Couneen, a clifftop village on the southern side of the peninsula. The family kept the local shop and internet café, and he’d always had notions about running marine eco-tours from the little pier in the inlet below the cliff. But the business had sort of started and then foundered, which was why he’d gone off on his travels to Australia.

  Then, recently, he’d arrived home, bringing a guy called Dekko, whom he’d met on some beach. Dekko apparently had money to invest, and the idea was that he and Dan would run the marine tours in partnership. He was a Dubliner, a kind of nondescript, bland bloke that Bríd couldn’t quite get a handle on. Dan was almost the opposite – tall, good-looking, and impetuous, with a lot of chips on his shoulder and a bit insecure underneath.

  Bríd herself was clear-minded and determined, and never one to hold back when it came to speaking her mind. So it was a bit odd to find herself wriggling now as Aideen questioned her. The bottom line, she supposed, was that she didn’t fancy being quizzed when, uncharacteristically, she wasn’t quite sure of her ground.

  Still, Aideen was easily diverted. You only had to mention her engagement ring and she was off on a riff about Conor. Now Bríd murmured something about the setting and Aideen turned to her eagerly, displaying the ring. Wasn’t Conor amazing? Hadn’t he spent hours trawling the internet in search of the perfect stone for her? Who’d have thought that he’d find it there in a jeweller’s shop in Carrick?

  It was hard to see Conor, with his farmer’s hands and unruly hair, as a diehard romantic. But he really had gone looking for a stone that would perfectly match the colour of Aideen’s eyes and tracked down a beautiful oval of lapis lazuli set in a red-gold band. He’d also proposed in front of a crowd of astonished spectators in the middle of Lissbeg Library, a romantic gesture that was the talk of the town for weeks.

  Now Conor nudged Aideen affectionately and told her to shut up. But, clearly, he was amused, rather than embarrassed, by her fervour. Aideen took her mug of tea from the tray he’d brought in from the kitchen, and their conversation turned to the future. As usual, it was a litany of aspiration and anxiety.

  Li
ke Dan, Conor had been raised in the countryside. His family had lived on the same farm for generations, and he and his brother, Joe, were struggling to keep the place going in the face of rising costs, falling prices, and the fact that their dad, Paddy, had recently injured his back. Conor also worked three days a week as an assistant in Lissbeg Library.

  Aideen had already explained it repeatedly to Bríd. ‘If it wasn’t for his job at the library, the farm would have to be sold. Honestly, Bríd, they’re only just holding things together. And I don’t know what’s going to happen because he loves the farm, I know he does, but the truth is he really wants to go off and become a proper librarian.’

  ‘So why doesn’t he?’

  ‘Well, that’s what I’m saying. How can he? Running the farm is a three-man job and Paddy can’t do any heavy work. So Conor and Joe are killing themselves to keep going. But the place doesn’t yield a proper wage for the three of them. So the money Conor makes from the library job is basically what he lives on.’

  ‘But that’s peanuts.’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying!’

  She was saying it again now, curled up in the armchair with Conor, her face creased with anxiety.

  ‘It’s a matter of working out what we’re going to do when we’re married. I mean, where we’re going to live . . . what we’re going to do.’

  The other day, when the two of them were eating dinner, Bríd had given her an answer. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Aideen, can you not see the bloody elephant?’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The elephant in the room. It’s Paddy. What kind of father sits watching this and doesn’t step in and do something?’