The Moon Over Kilmore Quay: a heartwarming and emotional family drama perfect for summer 2021

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘Her energy burned everything off. You too! Not like your old man.’ He looked down at his middle-aged paunch and shook his head in remorse.

  ‘You look great,’ I said. He might have got a little soft around his middle and had grey at his temples, but he was still a good-looking man.

  ‘Why thank you! Your mom’s voice had a soft Irish lilt. Every word was almost a note in a sentence, a song. People fell in love with her immediately. She had the X factor, whatever that is.’

  ‘Tell me about the Three Amigos!’ I said. This part of his story had always been my favourite.

  He laughed. ‘Ahh. Your mom’s friends. Separately they were Michelle, Maeve and Lucy, but together they were the Three Amigos! They were like you, Stephanie and Katrina growing up. Thick as thieves. Michelle was their neighbour. She grew up down the road from them. They had lots of in-jokes from years of messing and shenanigans. But their favourite thing to do was quote lines from the movie, The Three Amigos.’

  In my best movie copycat amigos voice, I said, ‘Whenever there is injustice, you’ll find us. Wherever there is suffering, we’ll be there. Wherever Liberty is threatened, you will find the Three Amigos!’

  Dad smiled. ‘You looked exactly like her as you said that line.’

  I never got bored hearing him say that.

  ‘I was always surprised that your mom chose to be with me. I wasn’t her usual type.’

  ‘You always put yourself down. Of course she fell for you. You’re a catch, Mr Author man.’

  ‘You’re biased, but I’ll take it. Thank you. I wish she’d lived long enough to see my books published. That all happened after she died. She only knew me as the aspiring writer, with big dreams.’

  It was a damn shame. Since then, with the exception of Corinne Dryden, he’d not had any long-term relationships. Was it my fault that he was single all these years later? I touched my bag, thinking of the letter that sat inside of it. Never out of my sight, it felt hot to touch now, almost burning my thigh. I figured that until I tracked down Stephanie, the letter would not speak to me again. Or at least that was my best guess.

  ‘Tell me about the wedding.’ I had a photograph of them on their wedding day, framed, on my bedside locker.

  ‘We were married a few short months after we met. At the end of a warm, sultry summer.’

  When I was younger I used to imagine that I was with them at the wedding. And somewhere in my teens, I worked out that I was, in a way, as they were pregnant with me when they got married in the New York Public Library. He wrote most of his books in its Rose Room, so it was almost a second home to him. Some days, I take my lunch to go and eat on the steps of that landmark building, trying not to photo-bomb tourists’ selfies. To me, there isn’t a more quintessential New York City icon than the place my parents wed. So much history in one building and my family were part of that now too. It was a nice thought. After the ceremony, they went back to Innisfree for their wedding party. Gran baked a ham and made salads, with her homemade brown soda bread. They only had a few friends and neighbours in attendance. That always made me sad. They deserved a party with thousands surrounding them. Michelle at least had flown over from Ireland with her boyfriend and now husband, Tadgh.

  ‘Why didn’t Mom’s family come to the wedding?’ I’d asked this question dozens of times over the years, but always found Dad’s answer unsatisfactory, so I kept asking it, hoping for a clue in his answer.

  ‘Your grandfather died during the summer. And then your grandmother got sick and your aunt stayed home to take care of her. It was bad timing, that’s all.’

  ‘That must have been awful for Mom, especially not having her sister there. You said they were so close.’

  ‘Your mom cried for weeks when she realized that they wouldn’t make it. They were more like twins really, with only ten months between them. They started school on the same day because they couldn’t bear to be parted. And that never changed as they got older. It was a disappointment for us both, but we understood.’ His eyes had become glassy, as he remembered.

  ‘Don’t get upset.’ I grabbed his hand.

  ‘Your mom brought so much light and joy into so many lives. And when she found out that she was pregnant – earlier than we had planned, mind you – we were so happy. Every day she’d sing to you in her tummy. I’d almost finished my first novel. As I completed an edit on a chapter, I’d read it to her tummy. It was a sure-fire way to send her to sleep!’

  ‘She didn’t like historical fiction?’

  ‘No, she didn’t. But she loved you! We were both besotted with you, long before we got to hold you in our arms.’

  Maybe I should tell him that it was enough. We could get back to his recounts about Law & Order. The thing was, this anniversary dinner was the only time we spoke about Mom. Over the years, I’d learned she was off limits other than now. I’m not sure who made that rule up, I suppose it was Dad. Maybe it was too painful for him to think about.

  I couldn’t help it though, I continued to pick at our old wound. ‘Tell me about the night I was born.’

  ‘It was a wet day. A thunderstorm hovered over New York all week. Your mom was in tune with the weather, she smiled more when the sun shone. Winter didn’t suit her, the rain made her melancholy. She was overdue by two weeks and the doctor said they would induce if you didn’t make an appearance within a few days. We were both ready to say hello to you. We’d baby proofed Innisfree, with your gran’s help and turned the spare room into a nursery. We even survived putting together your crib, without too much of a row.’

  ‘Tell me about the day I was born.’

  ‘Well, I’d been writing all day as I was working to a deadline.’

  ‘You’re always on a deadline!’ I’d grown up watching Dad working around the clock trying to finish a manuscript or do edits. It was part of who he was.

  ‘Feels that way sometimes, for sure. Your mom went to bed without me and I carried on working until the wee hours. And when I finally went to bed, I’d barely closed my eyes when she prodded me awake and told me she had a longing for trifle.’

  ‘I love that phrase, “a longing for”. Why don’t we say that here?’

  ‘I don’t know, love. I do know that your mom used it a lot during her pregnancy. And it wasn’t any old trifle she wanted. It was the exact same one that her mom used to make every Sunday for them at home in Wexford. I rang your nana Elizabeth in Ireland and she called out the method over the phone. I eventually perfected a pretty decent version. I had a bowl of it made in the fridge, because I’d gotten used to her late-night cravings. By the time I came back with a heaped bowl for her and some indigestion tablets that she was sure to need as soon as she’d eaten it, she was standing in the bedroom doorway with a puddle of water at her feet.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’

  As I listened to Dad relay their rush to the hospital and my mom’s surprisingly short delivery, with me arriving less than an hour later, I pictured every moment as if it were a movie playing in my mind. I could feel their excitement and love as their baby daughter was placed in my mom’s arms. Me. I brushed tears from my cheeks.

  That phrase, a longing for. I longed for my mother more than any other thing or person in the world. I always had done and I supposed I always would.

  ‘She loved you so much, Bea.’ Dad handed me a tissue, sensing the shift in my emotions.

  I nodded, swallowing back a lump. Even though I’d no memory of her and me together, other than the ones Dad shared or the photographs I cherished, I knew she loved me. I felt it.

  ‘Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if she hadn’t died?’ I whispered.

  Dad looked out the window of the diner, into the busy street outside. ‘Every day.’

  ‘It’s so unfair. You only had such a short time with her.’

  ‘Life isn’t fair for many. But I don’t regret a single thing. Because even though she left, I had you. My gorgeous girl. And that’s more than many
get. You have been the biggest blessing in my life.’

  Then without warning, he threw in, ‘I saw Dan yesterday.’

  The mere mention of his name made my insides clench. Then my hands began to sweat so much that I had to wipe them on my skirt.

  ‘I was in Bryant Park, which was packed with alfresco diners, so it’s a wonder we saw each other at all. I was walking, trying to work out a sticky plot point, and we literally bumped into each other. He’d been in the café for lunch.’

  I continued to ignore him, partly because it was easier and partly because I couldn’t trust myself to speak without crying.

  ‘He asked after you.’

  I held my hands up. They said, no more. And Dad got it, because he nodded in response, but not before he said one last thing, ‘He looked wretched and said he missed you. I don’t know what happened, but he looked anything but happy about it.’

  Mario appeared with our ice-creams and placed them gently in front of us. His eyes were glassy. He’d been listening to us reminisce. He’d heard it all over the years we’d been here, mundane to farcical, to heartbreaking confessions. A silent witness to it all. I supposed some would have found him an intrusion. But to us, he’d always been a quiet support. I squeezed Mario’s hand in thanks. I guessed he’d timed the ice-cream to save me from any more Dan questions. We ate in silence and I watched Dad watching me, worry making his forehead crease. I felt a wave of love flood me again. I owed him so much.

  ‘Thank you, Dad.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For everything. I know how many sacrifices you’ve made for me throughout my childhood. I don’t think I’ve been a great daughter recently. I’m sorry I’ve not spent much time with you.’

  ‘Can I ask a favour and then we’ll call it quits?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Will you give work a miss for the weekend. It’s your company, surely you can take a few days off? Spend some time with all of us. I think Mike is off this weekend. We can con him into making a roast for us all. He misses you. We both do. Let us spoil you.’

  I went through all the possible excuses I could give him as to why I couldn’t do as he asked. I wasn’t sure I could survive a full weekend without breaking down and telling him everything, the reason Dan and I split up. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to share that.

  ‘Please, love. I’m lonely.’

  Oh Dad.

  ‘I’m not watching Law & Order all weekend,’ I said.

  His smile of gratitude nearly finished me off. ‘And I’m not watching Long Lost Family either.’

  ‘Deal!’ he said with a grin, and all at once I was back to Dan again. We’d only been together a few months, but I’d decided it was time for him to meet my family, so I asked him to join me on our annual march in the St Patrick’s Day Parade.

  ‘If you can promise me that nobody will say the words St Patty’s Day in my earshot, I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Any self-respecting Irish person would never utter such nonsense. We all know a patty is a burger, or short for Patricia, not Patrick and certainly not somebody who has the power to banish snakes,’ I said, with the mock seriousness that the subject deserved.

  ‘In that case, blue eyes, you’ve got yourself a deal.’

  13

  BEA

  St Patrick’s Day, 2019

  Lexington Avenue, Manhattan

  ‘You’re late,’ I said to Dan, as he ran the last few steps towards me. I tried to be cross with him. And failed. The mere sight of him made me feel happy.

  ‘Ah, sorry, love. But this poor fecker fell walking up the subway steps on Lexington. I wasn’t surprised he fell, ’cos he was wearing four-inch platform heels. Mad-looking yokes. There he was, face planted, his stuff all over the place. And everyone carried on walking, moving to one side to avoid stepping on him. They didn’t even glance in his direction. That can’t be normal!’

  ‘Sounds about normal to me,’ I said. Dan was still naive to New Yorker ways. That would change. It always did.

  ‘Well, you should have seen this fella’s face when I leant down to help him pick his bag up. He went white. I swear he thought I was trying to mug him.’

  ‘You’ve got to be careful. There’s a lot of eccentric people around. Especially on the subway. He could have turned on you.’

  ‘For what? Helping him get back on his feet? Don’t be daft. We all need that every now and then. He was delighted once I assured him I was neither thief nor threat. Nice fella as it turned out, a bit of craic I’d say. Toby, from Nebraska, but living in Queens now like myself. We only live a block from each other. He said he might see us later for a pint. I told him we’d probably be in Saints and Sinners this evening.’

  I marvelled that Dan could make a friend with a random subway guy as quickly as this. ‘I’ve commuted on the subway my whole life and I’ve never ended up arranging to meet someone for drinks while doing so.’

  ‘Ah you’re not living at all, Bea. Sure half the fun of the commute is the bants you have with the randomers. Last week I met this fella who rides the subway all day. Talking away to himself, he was. About the house he was going to buy up on a hill, can’t remember the name of it, giving out about Trump and his orange face. He didn’t stop talking from Woodside to Grand Central, not once. I was in stitches laughing at the stuff coming out of his mouth, couldn’t help myself. But he didn’t seem to mind me laughing. He joined in too. Satisfying, that laugh was. He always waves at me now when I see him.’

  Over the past few months since I became Dan’s girlfriend, I’d seen the effect his laughter had on those in our company. It was an impossibility for anyone to remain poker-faced when something tickled his fancy. He had one of those belly laughs that came from the very core of him. Loud, dirty and infectious.

  ‘Do me a solid and remember you’re not in Wexford any more, Dan. New York has a bite. That’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Well if someone tries to bite me, I’ll have to bite back. Besides, who’s gonna take on me?’ He posed Popeye style, flexing his not inconsiderable muscles. He was right, of course. Most would run away from a fight with Dan.

  ‘You’re a good man,’ I said, then leaned into his embrace for a hug. I felt a shiver of shame as I realized that had it been me who passed that man on the steps, I would have probably walked on by; most New Yorkers would. But not my gentle giant. If I’d followed my first instinct when I bumped into him on New Year’s Eve in Saints and Sinners, I would have missed out on getting to know the most decent, kind man I’d ever known.

  ‘Where have you gone, blue eyes?’ Dan asked, bringing me back to him.

  ‘I was thinking about chips, if you must know,’ I said.

  ‘The Stop Inn,’ he said with a smile. ‘We’ll have to go back there again soon. Denise was asking after you only yesterday.’

  We turned onto East 74th Street and I slowed my pace down to a gentle stroll. ‘Jackie Kennedy Onassis lived here,’ I said, pointing to the red-brick, pre-war building we were about to pass.

  Dan stopped to take a better look. ‘That’s mad to think that Jackie O must have walked on this very pavement. My mam would have got such a kick out of that. She loved her. Said she was the epitome of a lady. And sure, at home in Wexford, we all have a special place for that family. There’s a museum in New Ross, a place called Dunganstown, where JFK’s family originated from. He visited there a couple of times. I’ll take you one day.’

  He threw that in casually, but I caught the quick side-look he gave me to see my reaction. Which incidentally was to grin like the Cheshire cat. ‘My grandparents cried for weeks when JFK was shot. Gran was hanging laundry on the line in our garden, the radio on in the background. And they interrupted a song to say that shots had been fired at the president’s motorcade. She said she dropped the basket of clothes to the ground and ran inside, calling for Grandad.’

  ‘A sad day. We better get a move on. We’ll be late,’ Dan said, grabbing my arm and moving us along.r />
  ‘Nervous?’ he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘No. Of course not,’ I denied. His grin got wider and to my annoyance one jumped onto my face in response to his. I moved to the side of the busy street so that a group of kids, no more than fifteen or sixteen, could pass us by. All of them were dressed head to toe in green, their faces painted green, white and orange.

  ‘Half the city is wearing green today,’ Dan said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘St Patrick’s Day is a big deal over here. Wait till you see the pubs later on. There won’t be a single one in the city that’s not bedecked with the Irish flag. And by the way, does anything ever bother you?’ I envied him his ease. In the three months since we’d known each other, he’d never shown any signs of stress. I, on the other hand, seemed to live in a state of perpetual stress.

  ‘Ah sure, life is too short. You worry too much, blue eyes.’ He leaned in and kissed me. And all thoughts of my family and friends, who were only a few minutes’ walk away, disappeared. I lost all perspective when Dan kissed me.

  ‘The only thing I’m worried about is remembering everyone’s names. I’ve been running through them all as I travelled over here on the subway.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Everyone is chilled and will be delighted to have you with us. Dad is looking forward to meeting you. He’s been at me for ages to bring you home to meet him.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea me coming today, though? You said marching in the parade together is a family tradition. Will they be pissed off, me landing on them?’

  ‘Not at all. They’re dying to meet you. Fresh Wexford blood! If only Gran and Grandad were alive. I think this would be the happiest day of their life. They were beside themselves when Dad married a Wexford girl. Now their granddaughter is dating a Wexford man. They are up there in heaven throwing a party, I bet.’

  ‘I love hearing your stories about the two of them.’ Dan reached into the inside pocket of his coat, then held up a copy of Dad’s latest novel, The Mystery of Breanna Bay. ‘I’ve nearly finished it. And I’m really enjoying it. More than I thought I would, to be honest. I’m normally more of a Stephen King man.’