The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2

by Michelle Vernal

  ‘I shall make us a cup of tea to have with what I hope I’ll find in here.’ He set the container down on the table at which Noreen sat.

  ‘It’s one of my Victoria sponges, Father, with fresh cream and homemade jam.’

  Father Peter’s eyes gleamed greedily as she’d known they would. ‘Well this is a good day, a good day indeed, but to what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘It’s advice I’m after, Father.’

  ‘Well now, Noreen, it has to be said I give my wisest opinions on a full stomach.’ He retrieved two side plates and a knife. ‘If you could do the honours while I tend to the tea that would be grand.’

  ‘Certainly, Father.’

  He nodded and set about making a pot of tea.

  Noreen had placed a sliver of cake in front of herself and a large triangle for Father Jim by the time he’d set the tea things on the table. He poured them both a cup of the steaming brew before murmuring a very quick grace, smacking his lips, and tucking in.

  Noreen hadn’t much of an appetite but managed to fork up the best part of her cake so the priest didn’t feel he was eating alone. He made short work of the sponge and in no time was pushing his chair back. He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, missing the blob of cream on the tip of his nose. Noreen didn’t like to say anything and fixed her eyes on her china cup and saucer instead.

  ‘Now then, Noreen, let me tell you, if you were to enter that sponge of yours in a cake competition, I’ve no doubt it would take first place. An unexpected and most enjoyable treat on a cold winter’s afternoon. Thank you.’

  Noreen smiled acknowledging his praise.

  ‘So, why don’t you tell me what it is troubling you.’ He clasped his hands resting them on his lap as he leaned back, satiated, in his chair.

  ‘I’ve a family wedding to attend in a few weeks in Dublin and my niece who I’ve not spoken to after she wronged myself and my dear departed Malachy thirty years ago will be there. My sister, Rosamunde’s after ringing me and telling me it’s time to put old grievances aside. She wants me to find forgiveness in my heart for what her daughter did to Malachy and myself. Part of me would like very much to do this because she was like a daughter to us and I miss her, but I’m not sure I can.’

  ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what happened all those years ago.’

  Noreen finished her tea and setting it back in the saucer took a deep breath finding, herself back in 1970.

  Chapter 20

  1970

  ‘This came this morning, Noreen. Read it.’ Rosamunde flapped the envelope under her sister’s nose. The shop was blessedly quiet because Noreen had seen from the look on her sister’s face when she burst through the door she was in a state. Malachy was out and she couldn’t very well close up in order to hear whatever it was in this letter that had her sister all worked up. And she certainly didn’t want their customers knowing their family’s private business. She glanced toward the door, willing it to stay shut for the time being, before taking the envelope from Rosamunde. She put the glasses, hanging on a chain around her neck these days, on and pulled the letter from the envelope. She recognised the handwriting instantly – it was Emer’s – and her eyes scanned the page, reading quickly. As she drew near the end, her lips tightened; she could see why Rosamunde was upset.

  Emer had completed a bookkeeping course in Cork after leaving school and it hadn’t been long after, she’d headed for Dublin. Her new qualification had secured her a position in a furniture factory’s office and she’d lodged with a group of girls she’d gotten friendly with while studying in town, all keen for a taste of capital city life. At first, she’d written regularly and had come home once a month, full of news of what life like was like in the big smoke. Noreen and Malachy had counted down the days between those visits, worrying in between times she was burning the candle at both ends, but comforting one another with the fact they knew she was happy and living life to the full. Slowly though, the letters had become fewer and the visits non-existent apart from holidays and birthdays. Independence was all part of growing up, Malachy had said, and she’d agreed with him but it didn’t stop her missing Emer and was she that busy she couldn’t write a little more often.

  Noreen hadn’t confided in anyone but Malachy to being a little hurt when her niece got engaged to Phelan Daly without breathing a word to her of it being on the cards. His family owned the furniture business where she worked. Emer had mentioned in passing, on a rare visit home, she’d been stepping out with the boss’s son but there’d been no talk of it being serious. She hadn’t even brought him home to meet the family. It had stung a little, hearing the news her precious niece was engaged to a veritable stranger via a quickly scrawled letter landing on the mat inside the front door of the shop on a Wednesday morning.

  And now this. She folded the letter up and tucked it back inside the envelope before handing it back to her sister. ‘Poor Emer, a broken engagement and no job as a result.’ Her heart went out to her niece even as she wondered why she’d had to hear this news from Rosamunde who clearly didn’t know what to do about the situation her daughter found herself in. ‘She doesn’t say what happened though does she? Only that her fiancé and her have parted ways which means she feels she can no longer work at the factory and she’s been living off her savings this past month as finding a new job is proving a challenge.’

  ‘Yes, but she won’t be able to do that much longer. To be honest, Noreen, I’m surprised she has any savings. You know how money always burned a hole in her pocket. If she can’t find work then she’ll have to come home,’ Rosamunde said, stuffing the envelope in the pocket of her cardigan before wringing her hands. ‘But what will she do here? Sure, it’s why she left in the first place. There’s not much in the way of prospects for a young person in Claredoncally and around abouts.’

  ‘There’s always Cork.’ Noreen had felt she should have applied for work in town when she finished her course. It was much closer to home and if it was city life she was after wanting to try, Cork was every bit as much a city as Dublin, though granted a little smaller.

  ‘There is but I think she needs to be home with her family in order to get over all the upset with Phelan, and sure the bus to town is slower than a horse and cart. It would take her well over an hour to get in and out every day. You know how she hated it when she was studying. No, I was thinking something closer to home.’

  Ah, now Noreen could see what had brought her sister steaming over to the shop. She’d never been very subtle. She sighed, her words coming out in an exasperated hiss, ‘Rosamunde, why don’t you say what it is you came to say?’

  Rosamunde licked her lips and eyed her sister speculatively for a moment. ‘Alright then. You always were straight to the point, Noreen. Would you see your way to giving Emer a job here at the shop, until she can get herself on her feet again?’

  It was as she’d thought. ‘I don’t know, Rosamunde. I don’t think there’d be enough work here to keep her busy.’

  ‘Noreen, please, she needs your help.’

  It was all she’d ever wanted; to be needed the way a child needs her mammy and Emer was the closest thing to a daughter she was ever going to have. Of course, she wanted to keep her close, she would like nothing more than to work alongside her but it was pointless if all they’d be doing was twiddling their thumbs. ‘I’ll talk it over with Malachy.’

  ‘Bless you, Noreen, you’re one in a million so you are.’

  One month later...

  ‘EMER, YOU’LL RUB A hole in the glass if you polish that window any harder,’ Noreen said, opening the till. ‘I’m going to finish up for the day. Put your rag away and get yourself off home.’

  ‘Right-ho, Aunty Nono,’ Emer called back cheerfully, finally satisfied she had the panes gleaming. She dropped the cloth back in the bucket and returned it to the cupboard under the stairs. Next, she went to take her shop coat off, but first things first, she pulled the crumpled pound note from her pocket and s
tuffed it into her bag hanging on the hook on the door. It separated the shop from the stairs leading to the living quarters upstairs. Then she took her coat off, glad to see the back of the ugly old thing as she hung it in place of her bag. She was off to the cinema tonight with her friend, Delia, and had been short thanks to the dress she’d treated herself to with last week’s wages. Now she’d be able to wear her new dress, have dinner in the cafe Delia had suggested, and go to the cinema. Sure, she was only after taking what was her due anyway. She worked hard, her arm was aching from polishing the windows so it was, and received a pittance in return. Yes, it was only fair she justified, flicking her hair out from under jacket collar before wandering back into the shop to turn the sign from open to closed as had become her habit on her way out each evening.

  ‘Goodnight, Aunty Nono, Uncle Malachy, see you tomorrow.’

  Malachy grunted his goodbye from where he was sitting on a stool pricing a late delivery of tinned fruit.

  ‘Have a good evening, Emer,’ Noreen called, smiling back at her niece, pleased to note the colour was beginning to return to her cheeks now she was away from the city with all its pollution and grime. Fresh air was a tonic for most things, a broken heart included, she thought as the door banged shut behind their newest employee.

  She began to tally up the day’s takings counting silently as she did the arithmetic that had become second nature to her over the years. For the second time that month though it didn’t add up. She prided herself on being accurate when it came to her dealings with their customers and Emer, well, Emer was a qualified bookkeeper. She knew her figures right enough. She frowned and looked down the aisle at Malachy. He needed reading glasses but refused to admit this was the case. Was he after giving out too much change? She’d have to broach the topic carefully with him, he could be a sensitive soul. She made her mind up to talk to him and nudging the till shut with her hip she put the coins and notes in the bag. They kept their money bag in the sideboard drawer with Malachy taking the week’s earnings to the bank each Friday. ‘I’ll go and put the dinner on,’ she called over to her husband. He was a pussycat on a full stomach.

  Three months later...

  ‘WHERE’S OUR EMER?’ Rosamunde asked Noreen one afternoon as she picked up a tin of baked beans and put them in her basket. ‘They’ll go nicely with our sausages tonight.’ She put another tin in for good measure. The boys had hollow legs on them these days and she debated a third tin but decided no, they’d have to fill their boots with slices of bread on the side.

  ‘It’s Friday, she’s gone into town to do the banking.’

  ‘It was very good of Malachy to teach her to drive. Terry wouldn’t have had the patience.’

  ‘He didn’t mind. She picked it up easily by all accounts and Malachy wanted to give her a sense of responsibility by getting her to do the banking and collect the odd order. She’s qualified in bookkeeping and the like so it must bore her silly stacking shelves and serving customers all day.’

  ‘She’s seems happy enough to me. It’s working out well then? Having Emer here.’

  ‘It is.’ Noreen had to admit it was, they’d be lost without her now. ‘I was worried we mightn’t find enough for her to do but business is brisk. People always need their milk and bread and other essentials. Her being here means Malachy and I can take things a little easier, too.’ They were enjoying the opportunity Emer’s presence afforded them to take more breaks, she’d even found Malachy upstairs with his feet up and the paper spread out in front of him the other day! It wasn’t only Malachy who was making the most of not being needed on the shop floor continuously. She’d slipped away and had her hair set the other day and found time for a cup of tea with her old friend, Kathleen, at Alma’s. Mind you, she’d nearly broken a tooth on her currant bun, rock hard so they were. She’d told Alma in no uncertain terms, if she wanted to keep her customers, she needed to up her game.

  Rosamunde hesitated in that way of hers which told Noreen she had something weighing on her chest.

  ‘Come on then, Rosamunde, I can see you’ve not called in for the baked beans alone. Out with it.’

  Her younger sister looked shifty as she dug deep for the words she was after. She cleared her throat. ‘I, erm, I was wondering what you’re paying Emer, that’s all.’

  ‘The going rate, why?’ Noreen was put out by Rosamunde implying they were making the most of their niece being family and employing her on slave wages.

  ‘Oh, don’t get snippy, Noreen. I know you’re more than fair with her. But she’s forever coming home with new things that to my mind should be beyond her means.’

  Noreen smoothed her ruffled feathers before speaking. ‘Sure, she’s young, isn’t she? The young are apt to be spendthrifts.’ It wasn’t necessarily true. She hadn’t been, she’d been a diligent saver from the moment she’d picked up her first brown envelope from the wages clerk at the fish factory but then she’d had something to save for, a shared dream with Malachy. It was neither here nor there, times were different now and Emer was entitled to enjoy herself. She worked hard and she’d obviously been through a lot with that fickle Phelan fellow in Dublin. Not that she’d ever spoken about it. She’d made it clear when Noreen had tried to broach the subject to find out what had gone wrong, it was a topic she didn’t wish to talk about. Fair enough, Noreen had thought. Some things were too painful to speak of and so she’d left it, figuring Emer was healing her heart in her own way.

  ‘Hmm,’ Rosamunde mumbled, but didn’t look satisfied. ‘She’s more clothes than she knows what to do with these days and it’s not as if she needs them for work. She’s gotten very offhand with me lately too because when I asked her about it, she told me it was none of my business. I told her it was my business while she was under my roof and she said something about not being under it for much longer before slamming her bedroom door. Terry was livid, said she’d have it hanging off the hinges with that sort of behaviour.’

  Noreen frowned unable to picture the scene her sister had painted. ‘That doesn’t sound like Emer. I’ve never heard her say a cross word.’

  Rosamunde heaved her laden basket onto the counter. ‘Oh, you’ve always been blind to her faults, Noreen. You and Malachy both. She’s a side to her at times that one. Nobody’s perfect you know. She’s a long way to fall from the pedestal you have her on,’ Rosamunde said, before shaking her head in a manner which made Noreen feel spiky with irritation and her words niggled Noreen for a long while after she’d left.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Can I interrupt you there, Noreen?’ Father Peter said. ‘I can see it’s distressing you talking about this and sure, everybody knows there’s no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a cup of tea.’ He took the cosy off the pot and poured another strong brew for her, leaving her to help herself to the milk and sugar. She didn’t normally take sugar but today she put a teaspoon in. The sugar would help calm the anxiety raking over the past had wrought.

  ‘Another slice of your delicious cake?’ Father Peter held the knife poised over the sponge hopefully.

  ‘No thank you, Father, but sure, help yourself. I made it to be enjoyed.’

  ‘And that it will be, Noreen, that it will be,’ he muttered, slicing into it.

  She sipped her tea allowing the hot, sweet liquid to settle her nerves while he slid a generous wedge onto his plate and began to wolf it down with as much gusto as he had the first piece. This time when he’d finished and wiped his mouth he managed, to Noreen’s relief, to remove the cream from his nose.

  ‘Now then, Noreen, you’re looking much more composed,’ Father Peter said, pushing the plate away from him, his clasped hands resting around a middle clearly straining against his shirt. ‘Are you ready to carry on?’

  ‘I am, thank you, Father.’

  1970

  IT WAS A DAY OF RAINBOWS when Noreen ventured into Cork. There was a sale on in Roches Stores there on Patrick Street and as she made her way toward the building with i
ts grand copper-covered dome, she could see the line of eager shoppers waiting for the doors to open. She and Malachy had left it to Emer to open the shop in order to pootle into the city at an ungodly hour of the morning. Malachy was going to the grocery wholesalers while she fought the crowd in the women’s clothing department here at Roches. They’d arranged to meet outside the store’s main door for midday in order to go and treat themselves to a spot of lunch. The thought of standing around outside the frontage like so many youngsters did on a Friday evening, waiting to meet their date made her smile. At least her stomach wouldn’t be all of a flutter wondering whether he’d show up or she’d find herself stood up and sloping off home on the bus. He’d always been a reliable sort, her Malachy.

  Noreen reached the store and tagged onto the end of the chattering queue. There was a sense of excitement in the air at the thought of the glorious bargains about to be found inside and she crossed her fingers in the pocket of her smart, going into town jacket hoping she’d be able to find what it was she’d come for. It wasn’t herself she was after shopping for today. No, it was Emer. She’d seen the look of yearning in her niece’s eye the day Mrs Darby had breezed unexpectedly into their shop.

  Mrs Darby was a mythical creature who lived in the big house halfway between their village and the next town. She spoke with a plum wedged firmly in her lipsticked mouth and was hardly ever seen on the streets of Claredoncally, preferring to do her shopping in town. So, when her sleek grey, automobile pulled up on the main street, Maisie Donovan had burst through the door of Grady’s Convenience Store full of this breaking news. Emer had gone to the window, pressing her nose to it as she peered down the street before declaring excitedly that the glamorous vision wrapped in a royal blue, belted wrap coat and matching hat was heading toward their shop. Noreen had fluffed her hair and straightened her shop coat before standing to attention as though she were about to greet the Queen behind the counter.