‘The other big news in the O’Connor house is that Mike asked Eugenie to marry him yesterday. She said yes. I think they’re planning a summer wedding.’
‘Oh, I’m so happy for them both. But crikey, that’s quick! Your mam must be over the moon! Is she buying a new hat already?’
‘Beside herself. And already thinking about the wedding party. She was afraid Mike would never ask anyone that question, he’s been such a player when it comes to women. I know I shouldn’t say anything bad about my brother, but honestly, the amount of women I’ve seen come and go over the years …’
‘He loves Eugenie. Maybe he just needed to meet the right woman.’ I wasn’t sure Eugenie loved him though. There was something shifty about her.
‘Mam thought her only hope for grandchildren was with me. I could never see myself getting married, having a family. Not until I met you, that is.’
I couldn’t breathe; my heart hammered so loudly I was sure he must hear it. He picked up my hand and held it between his. ‘Lucy Mernagh, I could spend the rest of my life with you.’
‘I could spend the rest of my life with you too,’ I replied breathlessly. Was he going to propose, here, on a slightly musty-smelling bus?
But before I could work out if that would be a good or a bad thing, he went on. ‘I’m not going to propose. Not here, anyhow. You deserve much more. But brace yourself, Lucy. I’ve got plans for you. For us. The forever kind.’
‘I like forever plans,’ I whispered, then leant up to kiss him again. It was the happiest moment of my life.
Once we arrived in Penn Station, we jumped on the subway to Woodside. To home. And that was another moment of realization for me. I had never thought of our apartment as home until this moment. I walked in the door and smelt a whiff of lemon. Maeve had been cleaning. ‘Hey, Sis. I need to go away more often. The place looks great!’
She didn’t move towards me, she hung back at the cooker. ‘Don’t be getting any ideas that I’ll do this on a regular basis.’
I recognized the look on Maeve’s face. Shame. I’d seen it many times over the years. She was guilty and I knew why. I had been a bit peeved when she’d left me to take care of everything at home. But I’d long since forgiven her. ‘You have nothing to feel bad about, Sis.’ And that only made her look even more pained. ‘You can’t beat yourself about what’s done. And it’s all OK. Mam was all right when I said goodbye, better than I thought she’d be.’ This was true. She’d given me her blessing to return here, along with another liberal douse of holy water. To my surprise, before I had the chance to tell Maeve any of this, she burst into tears. She must have been living her own hell, worrying about what was going on at home. I ran over to her and pulled her into my arms, shushing away her tears.
‘I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,’ she repeated, over and over again.
‘We’ll go back home together soon, maybe for Christmas. Or Mam might surprise us all and come over herself. Michelle said she’d bring her, so she’d have company on the flight. They both want to meet you, Ryan.’
Maeve cried even louder and I looked over her shoulder to Ryan, mouthing my apologies. To my surprise he looked tearful too. He was such a softie.
‘Listen, you two, I’ve had a month of tears at home. Pull yourselves together. I’m going to have a shower. Wash the flight off me. But I’m starving.’
‘I think all we have here are pop tarts. I forgot to shop, sorry,’ Maeve said.
‘Some things never change. How did you survive without me this past month? I have a real goo on me for a Stop Inn special. The dirtiest burger they’ve got. But can we make it a takeaway? And remind me to fill you in on the big romance between Michelle and Tadgh. If he hasn’t proposed by Christmas, I’ll eat my hat. Pour me a glass of wine, will you, Ryan? I reckon I’ve about two hours before I’ll fall in a heap, so why don’t we make them count.’
‘That I can do,’ Ryan said, breaking into a grin. ‘It’s great to have you back.’
I sang the whole way through my shower. I was back with my two favourite people in the world. And I knew that only good things were coming my way.
30
BEA
February 2020
Aer Lingus Flight EI107
I couldn’t quite believe that sitting on one side of me was a sleeping Katrina and on the other a sleeping Stephanie. It was Katrina who had suggested that Stephanie join us both. And she said yes, in an instant. This trip could not be better timed for her, a chance to escape the fallout of her messy break-up. Despite feeling exhausted, I couldn’t stay asleep for more than ten minutes. But the in-cabin movie selection was excellent, so I decided to catch up on several movies I’d not managed to see in the cinema. I flicked through the movie channel, looking for inspiration for my next watch. Then I saw it: Circle of Friends, the movie based on a novel by Maeve Binchy. And I remembered another time I’d watched this movie, cushioned by the arms of Dan. We were in my bed, late one Sunday morning, both a little hungover from the previous night’s St Patrick’s Day party at The Still. We both thought the movie was charming, well maybe me a little more than Dan. But he pretended to love it too.
‘I’m going to take you to my home in Ireland one day. My parents will love you. And my sisters too,’ Dan said. It was the first time he’d spoken about our future in any way.
‘When?’ I asked, realizing that I’d quite like to do this.
‘I don’t know. Maybe one summer. Every bucket list should include a drive along Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way. Maybe we could do it together. Visit my dad in The Ballagh for a few days. Then head off, just the two of us.’
‘I could go and visit Mom’s grave.’ It was impossible for me to think about Ireland and not think about Mom. They were a package deal.
He pulled me in closer towards him and held me tight. ‘Maybe we can find a way while we’re there to commemorate your mom.’ Dan scrunched his face up as he thought about this. ‘I don’t know, like plant a tree that would grow and live on in her memory. That’s off the top of my head, but we can work on a better idea.’
‘I’d like that,’ I whispered and the love that had been growing in me for Dan took root inside every part of me. And I knew that love would never leave me. I kissed him to seal the deal. ‘We have to stay in cute B&Bs, rather than big hotels though. I want to see Ireland, not the touristy parts.’
‘Well, you’re lucky you have me, blue eyes, because I know all the good spots. Consider me your free Irish tourist guide.’
I knew I was lucky then, and I still know it today. I wondered what Dan would make of me finally travelling to Ireland. Without him. I’d daydreamed at one point that we would make the trip part of our honeymoon. I should never have thought such a thing. Because when a girl begins to think wedding bells, it’s tantamount to shooting yourself in the foot. In the end, that’s exactly what I did, bang, bang, bang. There would be no honeymoon in Ireland with Dan. No cute B&Bs. I left my memories of Dan locked away in that compartment in the back of my mind. Then I flicked the channel to the TV shows section and watched re-runs of Frasier.
It was cloudy and grey as we made our descent. The patchwork green quilt that I’d heard about from Gran throughout my childhood couldn’t be seen. Our luggage came out without any issue, we made our way to the car-hire company and sorted out the paperwork. Katrina managed to get us a free upgrade, hinting that we might join the cashier for drinks later that night in somewhere called Gibney’s. I was riding shotgun, with Stephanie in the back. We had a Ford C-MAX people carrier. It looked new and was perfect for our trip.
Stephanie used Bluetooth to connect her phone to the car’s stereo system and her holiday playlist filled the car – a hits of the Nineties compilation. The perfect soundtrack for our road trip.
‘LeAnn Rimes!’ We all shouted as she began to sing along to ‘Can’t Fight the Moonlight’.
‘You OK?’ I asked Katrina, when I realized she had yet to start the car.
‘Yes. It’s a g
ear shift. I just need a moment to work it out.’
‘Should we swap it for an automatic?’ I asked. ‘I’m sure they’d let us swap.’
‘Who drives a gear shift these days anyhow?’ Stephanie asked.
‘In Serbia, I drive gear shift.’
‘You were twelve when you left there!’ I said.
‘Do you remember all those times your grandad made us drive his cars?’ Stephanie asked at the exact moment the memory came to me too.
‘Oh my God, the fun we had with the street parking laws!’ On Wednesday mornings, to allow the street cleaners in, you couldn’t park on the left-hand side outside Innisfree. And then on Thursday afternoons, you couldn’t be on the right. If you were caught parked at those times, they would tow you and also give you a hefty fine. Between Grandad, Mike and Dad we had three cars, but two of them weren’t working half the time, their batteries dead as doornails. So Grandad would call up the stairs to me when it was time to move the cars. And with him pushing, me behind the wheel, I’d steer the car to its new parking spot.
‘I used to sit in the passenger seat with you. Oh Bea, I remember it like it was yesterday. Your grandad was so lovely,’ Stephanie said.
‘He was. I’d give anything to have the chance to move a car for him now.’
‘What would he think about you being here?’
‘He’d be happy. And most probably be driving the car by now!’
‘Cheek! We’re off!’ Katrina said as the car started and we began our two-hour drive to Wexford. We’d tossed a coin whether to head to Cork to find Ted first, but in the end this felt like a better option. Top priority for me was to find my mother’s grave in Kilmore. Then, after that, we would visit my aunt. I decided not to give her any advance warning. That way, she couldn’t make an excuse to be unavailable. Our PA Nikki had booked a hotel in the area for two nights. Then we’d head to Cork. Our next move after that would be dictated by how elusive or co-operative Ted was.
There wasn’t much to see on the motorway. The grey tarmac of the road matched the grey skies. But then half an hour south of Dublin the Wicklow Mountains said hello. As did the sun, which poked its head out through the clouds. The sunny south-east earned its nickname. I felt a wave of emotion begin to build. This was the Ireland I’d dreamt about for years, the Ireland I’d felt a connection to. The Ireland I’d sung about with every note of ‘The Isle of Innisfree’. We continued along the M11, watching strange place names whizz by us on green road signs. Enniscorthy. Ferns. Camolin. Blackwater. Castlebridge. Then finally we saw the signs for Wexford town.
‘I know we ate loads on the flight, but I’m starving,’ Stephanie admitted. It was nearly noon and the previous night’s dinner long forgotten.
‘Why don’t we find somewhere to eat in Wexford town, before we head to our hotel in Kilmore Quay? The satnav says that’s only about thirty minutes from here,’ I suggested.
Katrina turned off the N11, making her way along the Estuary. We spied a large car park beside a cinema and decided to stop there. It was cold, but as the sun was still shining we set off for a walk along the waterfront. A couple of dozen dog walkers and families with buggies made their way up the quay. A railway line ran parallel to the quay on one side, with the water on the other, fishing boats bobbing up and down. We didn’t speak; I assumed the girls were like me, taking in the charming maritime town beside us. It couldn’t have been more different to Manhattan; instead of skyscrapers dotting the skyline whichever way you looked, there were only a couple of church spires. We continued walking until we reached an area called Crescent Quay. We paused to take a look at a bronze statue of Commodore John Barry. A plaque told us that the USA had given the statue to Wexford in the 1950s. A fair swap for my grandparents, I thought. When I read that the Commodore was originally from Tacumshane, I started to laugh as another memory popped back.
‘Did Grandad ever tell you his bus story?’ I asked.
Stephanie and Katrina shook their heads.
‘Grandad worked for the Metro bus line when he first came to New York. Back then, the driver would have to announce what the next stop was. Next stop Lexington. Next stop Times Square. So on and so forth. Well, this day, about a year after he left Ireland, he spied someone in the rear-view mirror. Someone from Tacumshane, like on this plaque. Grandad used to play hurling against the guy he spied, back when he was a young fella. So he said into the microphone to the whole bus, “Next stop Tacumshane.”’
‘He was so funny,’ Stephanie said. ‘I bet they went for drinks afterwards too, knowing Joe.’
‘Apparently Grandad brought him home to Innisfree that night and they partied until the early hours. Singing, telling stories about home.’
We made our way up Harper’s Lane, then turned left into the cobbled South Main Street. The paths were narrow on either side of the small road. We came across a small restaurant with an Irish name we struggled to pronounce, Cistín Eile. When in Rome, Stephanie said, so we went in. The small restaurant was as charmingly Irish as we could ever have wished. Irish phrases adorned the painted walls. Is maith an t-anlann an t-ocras. Our waitress taught us how to pronounce the name of the restaurant and also the phrase, which translated to ‘hunger makes a great sauce’. We all chose bacon and cabbage, because the waitress said it was one of their specialities. And when the food arrived, we all agreed that this was the most delicious food we’d ever had. I’d grown up in a house that served bacon and cabbage with mashed potatoes every other Sunday. But Gran never made food like this. The glazed bacon was served with a mustard sauce, buttery cabbage and the most divine champ potatoes.
‘Erm, no offence to your gran, but this beats any bacon and cabbage I’ve eaten at Innisfree,’ Stephanie said. I felt guilty just nodding in agreement.
‘We need to come back here,’ Katrina said, all but licking her plate clean. We left happy and replete. And a little surprised at the quality of the local artisan food we’d eaten. Friends had visited Ireland over the years and they’d come back with nothing but praise for their visit, with one exception: the food! But if this was a taste of what we could expect in the future, then I was all in.
We made our way back to the car, this time walking along the cobbled Main Street, as opposed to the quay. I linked arms with Katrina and Stephanie, me in the middle of the two of them, as we’d done so many times since we were kids. We passed a couple of buskers, who were belting out an Ed Sheeran song. We stopped and sang along for a few minutes. I realized that this was the first time I’d felt properly happy in weeks. And I felt a little bit of hope grow that maybe there could be more fun moments in my future. We passed several boutiques that looked like they could rival the small ones I loved in SoHo. We stopped to chat to a man who was walking his six dogs, all dressed in their Sunday best. We left Wexford and the scenery changed as we left the main road and made our way towards Kilmore. We whizzed by green fields dotted with hay bales and rust-coloured gates. We all squealed when we spotted our first thatched cottage. Stone walls lined the road, which began to get considerably narrower the nearer we got to Kilmore Quay. Katrina slowed down to almost a crawl.
‘How do you pronounce Quay?’ Stephanie asked. ‘Is it key or kay?’
‘Key,’ I said. And in my head, I heard Dan’s voice saying it.
We spotted our hotel, the Coast Kilmore Quay at the edge of the village.
‘So many thatched cottages,’ Katrina said. Some of which were dirty brown with weather-worn age, others stood out proud with a new vibrant golden thatch that glimmered in the sun.
‘That’s my favourite. Look over there!’ Stephanie said, looking at a small whitewashed cottage with pink clematis flowers draped across its front like a feather boa. We spotted several pubs, including Kehoe’s and Kilmore Quay Lodge. There was a large marina which had large and small fishing boats berthed, with thick twisted ropes and brightly coloured fishing crates, sitting in a pile on the concrete deck.
‘Any sign of Nellie’s?’ Stephanie asked.
/> ‘It might be on the other side of the village,’ I guessed. And then we saw it. A small whitewashed building ahead on the right-hand side.
‘It’s small. But kind of quaint. I like it,’ Stephanie said. ‘Look, that must be the car park over there.’
Katrina parked the car and I realized that I couldn’t move. My legs felt like they were now detached from my body and would not cooperate.
‘What’s up, Bea?’ Stephanie asked. ‘You’ve gone white.’
‘This feels big, girls. Like the biggest thing I’ve ever done. I’m shitting myself.’
‘You’ve nothing to be nervous about. You are a decent, lovely person. And it is always a good thing when you meet family,’ Katrina said.
‘My mother grew up in that house.’ I pointed to the small cottage that stood beside the pub. ‘That’s the family home. Or at least I think it is.’
‘It’s so quiet,’ Stephanie said. I looked up and down the small village street and not one person was to be seen.
‘So different to Brooklyn. I can only imagine what that must have been like for her when she got to America. It must have been such a gear change,’ I said.
‘Do you want to go in now?’ Katrina asked.
I wasn’t ready. Not yet. ‘Can we go back to the hotel first? Check in. I’d like to walk over to the graveyard too. See where my mom is buried.’
‘I noticed a shop on the way in and they had bunches of flowers outside it. We could pick some up to put on the grave,’ Stephanie said. She was always so thoughtful. I’d have thought about flowers when we were standing by the grave and it was too late to buy them.
‘I’m glad you guys are with me.’
The Moon Over Kilmore Quay Page 22
