She’d wondered, without consciously admitting so, whether she resembled his late wife in any way. People had a type after all, but as she looked at the woman dimpling down at her, she could find none. Ida had the type of smile that lit up her entire face and her pronounced dimples made Maureen think she’d have had a good sense of fun. She’d worn her hair in a practical, short style which suited her elfin features and from what Donal had told her would have suited a life that was busy and full. She’d been an active member of the PTA at the school their girls had gone to, had worked part time as a nurse, volunteered for a support line, done Donal’s books and managed to squeeze in badminton twice a week. Where Donal was a big man, she was petite to the point of dainty. She thought she’d have probably liked this woman if they’d had the opportunity to meet. She hoped Ida would have approved of her too.
Maureen turned her attention to a portrait of his girls as teenagers. Louise, the elder of the two, took after her father, a big-boned girl with mischievous grey eyes, whereas Anna had the pixie look of her mammy; she’d inherited her dimples too.
Anna, Donal informed her as he checked the vegetables he’d brought to the boil in a pot on the stove, kept his freezer stocked with ready meals she’d make when she had time off, dropping around a week’s worth to see him right until her next batch. She did it so he didn’t have to think about cooking a meal for one if he’d been working. It had made Maureen feel strange hearing this on top of Louise doing his housework for him. Before she’d had time to work out how she could tactfully inquire as to why he didn’t do these things himself she’d blurted out. ‘And who cut your legs off then?’
Donal had laughed and told her his girls liked to feel needed. He agreed he was perfectly capable of doing the housework and cooking his meals, the proof of which was in the delicious casserole bubbling in his oven, but they’d fallen into routines since Ida had passed. He didn’t want to rock the boat, he’d said. Maureen had pushed the unsettled feeling this information wrought aside. Her girls were beginning to soften where Donal was concerned, she was sure of it. His girls would accept her in their daddy’s life, too.
As she skirted around the sofa sucking up curly poodle hairs, a shiver of trepidation passed through her. How would they take their daddy having a new woman in their life? She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. First things, first. There was a yoga party to be organising.
Chapter 18
1971
Bronagh could feel the package, wrapped in a masculine brown gift wrap paper, burning a hole in the side pocket of her mini-dress as she flapped out the blanket in order to lay it on the grass. She’d arranged to meet Kevin here at midday. The People’s Garden in Phoenix Park was a favourite spot of theirs and she was laying the blanket beside the formal flowerbeds. Behind her the obelisk reared up, separated by the rustling leaves of the line of trees which, if the sun got too hot, they could move under for some shade later.
She bent over, receiving a wolf-whistle for her efforts as she straightened the blanket and hastily sat down. The perpetrator was a spotty jack-the-lad who looked as though he was barely out of school; he was elbowing his pals who were all leering over. She gave them a haughty look before opening the picnic basket so as to have something to do while she waited for Kevin. He was late she realised, but that wasn’t a surprise. Timekeeping wasn’t his strongest suit. Her mouth watered at the sight of the bacon wrapped spam bites and cheese quiche along with a chocolate cake, Kev’s favourite, all made that morning. The Tupperware she’d bought at the party her friend Jeannie had tried to talk her into having a go at selling was wonderful for transporting food, she mused. The bacon bites were calling to her and her tummy rumbled. No, Bronagh, she told herself, wait for Kevin and she shut the lid on temptation.
Mam had commented on how short the skirts were the girls got about in these days as she’d made to leave the house earlier. She’d launched into an ‘in my day’ commentary as Bronagh picked up the picnic basket, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. ‘It’s fashionable, Mam,’ she’d replied, patting her pocket to check the present was there before casting a glance down at her yellow dress.
She’d bought it last summer and had decided she could get away with airing it for another season. The cotton fabric was decorated with bold orange flowers, had capped sleeves, a white Peter Pan collar and yes, it managed to cover her backside, but only just. Her legs were beginning to get a bit of colour she’d noticed, pleased to see they were a shade of honey instead of the pasty white they’d been when she’d finally been able to tuck away her winter gear.
‘And a bird could nest in that hair, Bronagh,’ her mam had added for good measure. Bronagh had seen the twinkle in her eye and knew she was teasing.
It was true though, she’d teased and sprayed it within an inch of its life, securing it back from her face with an Alice band. It was the longest she’d ever worn it. Kevin loved her hair; he’d told her it was her crowning glory and she repeated that sentiment to her mam.
‘Ah, go on with you and enjoy yourselves. You’ve a grand day for it. Remember I’m making the dinner.’
Bronagh had kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m looking forward to it and so’s Kev, Mam.’ Her mam was enjoying a spell of feeling well. The warmer weather helped as she wasn’t as susceptible to picking up the bugs that saw her go downhill for such long periods. As such, she was determined to cook a birthday dinner for Kevin whom she was growing as fond of as Bronagh was.
She’d called out a goodbye and closing the door behind her had headed down the street to catch the bus to Phoenix Park. Kev had high hopes of saving enough for a car soon and said they’d go all over the show then. She looked forward to it but for today, Phoenix Park was as good a place as any to enjoy a lazy afternoon in the sun.
Now she stretched her legs out, enjoying the warmth of the sun caressing them. Kevin was turning twenty-seven and she’d found the perfect present for him. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened it. A bee buzzed past her ear and she sat still as it went on its way. She could hear the distant shouts of children playing and the odd duck quacking. The sounds of summer were all around her and she inhaled the scent of sweet grass as she scanned the faces of the people meandering around the Victorian formal gardens. There was no sign of Kevin though. He was half an hour late now but she couldn’t get annoyed with him on his birthday so she busied herself admiring the reds, oranges and pinks of the well-tended flowerbeds.
She brought Mam here sometimes when she was up to an outing. It was such a beautiful place and, Bronagh thought, to just laze and enjoy the splendour of nature was good for the soul. She’d not extended the invitation for her to join them today, even though she’d have enjoyed a jaunt, because she wanted to be on her own with Kev when she gave him his gift. It had a very special message for his eyes only on it.
The last outing they’d taken Mam on was to Greystones. It had been a day like today and the three of them had climbed aboard the Dart, Kevin supporting Mam on one side, her on the other. They’d all enjoyed the scenic train journey along the coast and when they’d gotten off, they’d sat in the beer garden of a pub and admired the blue-green waters rolling in on the pebbly shore. It had been lovely to see the twin spots of pink appear on her mam’s cheeks from the fresh salty air. Kevin was so good with her, she often thought. He never complained when she suggested she join them, understanding how, since she’d become ill, people had stopped inviting her out. Bronagh didn’t like the thought of her being cooped up at home when she was fit enough to venture out.
She glimpsed his familiar figure strolling lazily through the gardens. Kevin was never in a hurry to get anywhere and Bronagh would tease him if he was any more laid back, he’d fall over. She sat up straight and shielding her eyes from the sun, waved out. He raised his hand back but his pace didn’t increase and she waited patiently, beaming up at him as he greeted her before flopping down on the blanket beside her. He leaned over for a kiss, his hair falling into his eye
s and she obliged enthusiastically.
‘Happy Birthday,’ Bronagh breathed as they broke apart, her eyes still half closed.
‘And a grand birthday present that kiss was too,’ he grinned. ‘Sorry I’m late. My mam telephoned to wish me happy birthday as I was about to head out the door and the whole tribe took turns singing it down the phone.’
Bronagh could tell he was pleased to have heard from them; she knew how he much he missed his family. ‘Mam says happy birthday too and she’s busy cooking up a storm at home.’ An exaggeration, but she was pleased to see Kevin’s face shine at the thought. He deserved a lovely day, she thought, unable to wait any longer. She reached inside the pocket of her skirt and produced the package. ‘This is for you.’
‘You didn’t have to do this.’ He grinned, but ripped it open in a manner that suggested he was pleased she had. He looked at the box for a moment before opening it and pulling out the solid silver Zippo lighter contained inside. It gleamed in the sun and he admired the weight of it as he held it in the palm of his hand. ‘Bronagh, it’s great.’ His face said it all and she felt a lovely popping like champagne bubbles inside her as he gazed at the side embossed with a Celtic cross. She held her breath waiting for him to turn it over and see what she’d had inscribed on the other side. He did so, reading out loud, ‘For Kevin, Love Bronagh.’ She’d agonised over whether to include the L word; they hadn’t said it to one another as such but in the end, she’d decided to be bold because she was in love with Kevin and she wanted him to know it.
He’d pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at her as the sun beat down and said, ‘This is the best present I’ve ever been given. I love it and I love you, Bronagh Hanrahan.’
Chapter 19
Rosi pushed the trolley upon which she had two large suitcases stuffed full of yoga pants in small, medium and mostly large. She’d been worried she might get stopped leaving London when her cases had gone through the X-ray machine and the officer in charge had beckoned her aside, asking to see inside them. She’d found herself gabbling her explanation, as she always did when confronted with figures of authority, as to why she had so many pairs of soft, stretchy pants in her possession. She couldn’t get done for smuggling, could she? It wasn’t illegal to carry one hundred pairs of yoga pants into another country was it? Apparently not, because by the time she’d finished the officer was shaking his head trying to understand the relevance of Tupperware and yoga pants as he waved her on through.
Noah and Mr Nibbles were at his grandmother and father’s this weekend. She’d arranged for Colin to pick their son and his gerbil, who’d had a class visit for the day, directly from the school’s gates as she was leaving work a couple of hours early to get her flight. She was fortunate his teacher had allowed Mr Nibbles back in her classroom after the show and tell debacle where he’d escaped and terrorised the principal in the toilets. She was kind-hearted, Noah’s teacher, and Roisin suspected none too fond of the stern head. It was still odd this business of weekend sharing her son with Colin and she doubted she’d ever get used to Noah not being with her all the time but he needed his dad and as for his Granny Quealey, well she was a pain in the arse but she did love him. Surely, the more people in the world who loved your child the better.
Noah normally would’ve had a tantrum of planet-exploding proportions at the notion of missing out on a trip to Dublin to see his beloved aunts and nana but once she’d explained about the party, he’d been happy to take a rain check. It wasn’t a party at all, he’d stated because there wasn’t going to be little red sausages, cake and pop. Roisin had been glad insomuch as she’d envisaged scenarios whereby Mr Nibbles had gotten loose. It wouldn’t be the first time the gerbil had tasted freedom. Oh no, she couldn’t risk having him terrorising the poor women who’d decided to come to the party, hopefully for a gander at the yoga pants and not just the free glass of wine.
Of course, the weekend wasn’t going to be all about yoga pants and meeting Mammy’s man friend, Donal and his family was going to be interesting and she’d be getting in Moira’s ear about behaving herself. She wondered not for the first time what he’d be like. She pictured a lean, weather-beaten, yachtie type. What would his daughters make of Mammy and of her and her sisters? Yes indeed, it was going to be interesting but the weekend was about Shay, too. She planned on spending as much time as she could with him without getting told off by Mammy, who was after all paying her fare. She wondered how Mammy would take the news she’d organised to stay at his place so as to squeeze every possible moment, in between her family obligations, as she could with him. This business of him being in Dublin and her in London was hard work but it was the way it had to be at the moment. Who knew where they’d be in six months’ time? They’d have to see how it went.
The doors to the Arrivals hall opened and she scanned the area. Mammy had told her she would be wearing her yellow airport sweater for visibility purposes. It only took a second before she spied her and began wheeling her trolley toward the woman in a yellow sweater and yoga pants performing lunges for a cluster of women and one man who looked utterly bewildered as to what was going on. For Roisin’s part, she was slightly miffed that Mammy wasn’t scanning the floor for her oldest daughter and leaping up with excitement at the sight of her. She drew alongside the spectacle and waited for Mammy to stop the side bends she’d moved into and notice her.
Maureen received a smattering of applause when she straightened and spied Roisin. ‘Ah grand, here she is, my supplier.’
Roisin glanced around half expecting a customs man to march on over and haul her off to the room where they took the drug mules.
‘This is my daughter, everyone, Roisin. She’s after bringing the yoga pants in for me. They’ll be for sale at a heavily discounted price on Saturday evening at the Howth church hall.’
‘Hello there, Roisin,’ several accents chimed as they looked her way.
Roisin attempted a smile and nod but they’d already turned their attention back to Mammy who was handing out fliers and telling her audience to remember there’d be wine and finger food on offer too. Sweet Jaysus, Roisin thought, what had she gotten herself into? She waited for the small crowd to disperse.
Once they had, Mammy turned on her heel, still in business mode as she said, ‘C’mon, Rosi, we can’t be hanging around here all day. We’ve a party to be getting ready for.’
‘What was all that about?’ Roisin hissed once out of earshot. ‘Making a holy show of yourself with the lunges and the like.’
‘It’s called sales and networking, Rosi, that’s what that was all about, thank you very much.’ Maureen shook her head as if it were self-explanatory.
‘Yes, but half of those women were foreign.’
‘Roisin O’Mara! I didn’t raise you to hear talk like that. Sure, they’re as entitled as any God- fearing Irish woman to have access to comfortable trousers.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ She’d only been in Dublin ten minutes and she was already exhausted; it was going to be a long weekend. ‘I meant they’re not going to be wanting to be spending their holidays attending a yoga pants party in Howth, now are they?’
Maureen was beginning to regret her choice of business partner. Rosi never had been the sharpest tool in the shed. ‘Roisin.’ The tone was pained. ‘If you were setting off on your travels around a foreign country and knew you were going to be sitting on your arse on buses for hours on end or in a hire car or whatever else, you’d want to be wearing comfortable trousers while you were doing so, now wouldn’t you?’
‘I expect so.’
‘Well I know so. They’ll come, they’ll buy, and they’ll spread the word, and that my girl is what is called networking and marketing on a global scale. The yoga pant, Tupperware party formula could become a global phenomenon.’ Maureen nearly walked into the sliding doors which hadn’t opened as fast as they should have as she pictured women around the world holding bonfires as they burned their tight trousers in a symbolic ce
lebration of comfy pants.
‘Mammy, would you look where you’re going.’
Outside it was already dark, and cold to boot. Roisin shivered despite her thick coat. ‘I’m not sitting in the back,’ she said as the car was unlocked and she spied his Royal Highness, Pooh the poodle perched in the passenger seat, his eyes gleaming in the darkness challenging her to take him on because he was top dog around here.
‘Roisin, you’ll do as you’re told, now in the back with you.’ Maureen clambered behind the wheel.
‘It’s not right,’ Roisin muttered, getting in the back and belting in. It smelt very doggy in here she thought, folding her arms across her chest.
‘Zip it, I need to concentrate.’
Roisin ignored her. If she could sit next to a panting poodle then she could manage a grilling about her man friend. ‘So, Mammy, we’re to have lunch with your Donal fella and his family on Sunday I hear.’
‘Say your piece, Rosi, your sisters both have.’
There was no point giving her a hard time; like she’d told Moira they needed to accept Mammy’s new friendship and besides she was curious. ‘What’s he like?’
Maureen’s eyes flicked from the rear-view mirror back to the road in front of her again. ‘He’s a widower with two grown daughters who dote on him by all accounts. Do you know they cook for him and do his housework? What a grand pair of girls they must be.’
The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2 Page 51
