‘Yes, I do know, Aisling, and Laura’s husband’s not coming so your Quinn’s not either. And tell Moira she’s not to wear the skirt that shows her knickers.’ Maureen knew she kept mentioning this but she also knew her daughter. ‘And you, Aisling O’Mara, under no circumstances are to wear the red top you had on last night. When I think of the Holy show, you with your boob out for all to see.’
‘Ah, don’t be mentioning that, Mammy, or I’ll not come to lunch. And you can tell Moira yourself. She’s right here.’ Aisling passed the phone to her sister and she and Quinn took themselves off in search of a full Irish breakfast.
‘Mammy, what’s my cut of last night’s take?’ Moira demanded, taking a pew on the vacated sofa. She leaned her back against the arm rest and stretched her legs out so they were resting in the warm spot Aisling had left behind. There’d been no squeaking bed springs this morning on account of Aisling’s sore head but still and all, she was warming to the idea of moving in with Tom. She liked the idea of opening her eyes each morning and seeing his face. What she didn’t like was getting the evil eye from his swotty flatmates because they thought she was freeloading by staying over all the time. She’d been on the receiving end of one such look this morning as she’d left Tom to his studies earlier on. Any extra money she could lay her hands on would go into her flat-sharing fund, which was why she had her palm out now, figuratively speaking.
‘Nothing. You worked for love. It’s what families do, Moira.’ Maureen was extremely pleased with how the evening had gone, Aisling’s unfortunate flashing aside. They’d made a tidy profit.
‘They don’t and I didn’t. I want paying, Mammy, and I want to make sure it’s your treat today too before I promise I’m coming.’
Maureen huffed down the line. ‘I’ll see what I can do but only if you promise not to show me up at lunch today. You’re to wear trousers, the Mo-pant if you want, but none of the knicker flashing skirts’ you’re so fond of. Do ya hear me?’
‘I hear ya.’
Maureen got off the phone banging out Roisin’s number next. Her voice was thick with sleep when she answered.
‘Rise and shine, Roisin, you’ve an important lunch to be getting ready for and I want you looking presentable, not like you’ve been doing the riding all night long.’
‘Mammy!’ Roisin made to protest but when she put a hand to her hair, knew she had a point. It was a matted mess and would need to be dealt with.
‘One o’clock at Johnnie Fox’s.’
‘I know, Shay’s dropping me there.’
‘Don’t be late.’
‘I won’t.’
Maureen put the phone back and moved over to where Pooh was gazing with a love-struck expression on his face at Peaches shivering out on the veranda. She petted him to soften her words. ‘She’s not coming in, Pooh. It wouldn’t be proper.’ It was time she got ready herself. She’d already decided to wear the blue wrap dress. It was the right amount of dressy without being over the top. She’d keep her make-up light, subtle, no bright lipsticks. Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought of meeting Donal’s girls. What would they make of her? What would she make of them?
Chapter 26
The roads were busy for a Sunday with a hurling match having been played somewhere and there were eejits driving home cheering and carrying on. Maureen had allowed an hour to get to Glencullen so as to be on the safe side. Her trusty little car wound its way up the quiet stone-walled laneways, lush with greenery, into the Dublin mountains. On a sunny day the drive was spectacular but today the windscreen wipers gave an occasional swish to remove the light drizzle falling steadily outside.
She reached the picturesque pub with fifteen minutes to spare and pulled into the gravelled parking area over to the side of the cottagey building, grateful to find a space to slide into. Once she’d parked, she looked about to see if she could spy Donal’s car. Her view to her right was blocked by a shuttle bus; the place was popular with the tourists and she should know having recommended it to her guests many times over the years. There was no sign of Donal’s car or anybody else with whom she might link arms in solidarity. Aisling and Moira were getting a lift from Tom who must be getting thoroughly sick of playing chauffeur to the O’Mara girls and their entourage she thought. She’d give it five minutes and pretend she was very busy doing something important on her phone while she waited.
She was engaged in looking busy and never heard the footsteps approaching, nearly jumping out of her skin at the tap on the window. Moira was standing there jigging about in the cold air despite having dressed sensibly compared to her usual standards. Aisling was behind her, hands thrust in her coat pockets, white puffs of air coming from her mouth, looking very green around the gills. Maureen got out of the car, her coat falling open as she did so.
‘I’ve not seen that dress before,’ said Moira.
‘It’s a wrap dress. It sucks me in here,’ Maureen gestured to her middle. ‘Ciara at the shop I bought it from says so.’
‘The colour’s nice on you, Mammy.’ Moira was doing her fecky brown-noser bit, not because she was a reformed character but to ensure a free lunch. Mammy would never know she’d told Aisling moments ago she felt like Cinders about to meet the ugly stepsisters. Aisling had been phlegmatic, saying they probably felt as though they were about to meet their evil stepmother. She had a point, Moira had thought, but now she feigned amazement. ‘And sure, Mammy, you’ve no sign of a waist on you at all, Ciara was right.’ That could have been overdoing it, she thought, seeing her eyes narrow.
Maureen looked past Moira to her other daughter. ‘Aisling, good to see you’ve put your bosoms away today. How’s the head?’
‘Ah, don’t, Mammy. I’m scarlet so I am and it’s better than it was.’ Mrs Baicu had been far more sympathetic than Mammy had earlier and had served her and Quinn a plate of Ireland’s finest each, which had gone a long way to ensuring she didn’t crawl back to bed.
‘Come on,’ Moira urged. ‘My hair’s going to kink standing around out here.’ She led the charge past the wooden sign swinging in the breeze welcoming them to Ireland’s highest pub, to where two children were charging around the outdoor tables playing tag, oblivious to the drizzle. The tables were deserted given the weather and a girl with a wave of blonde hair posed against the black vintage car parked alongside the pub as her boyfriend, presumably, took her photo. The brilliant purples and pinks cascading over the sides of the hanging baskets brightened a dull day and they stepped over the threshold of the quaint, lime-washed stone pub. The door closed behind them and they were instantly enveloped by the smell of browning butter and onions and the comforting sound of mellow laughter. Maureen looked up at the low ceiling and imagined Donal would have to duck if he didn’t want to hit his head on the beams.
‘Is Rosi here? Shay was going to drop her off,’ Aisling asked, craning her neck, looking around but despite her heels she still couldn’t see overtop of the punters clustered around in groups.
‘I don’t think so.’ Moira replied.
Donal waved out from a table near the stage area which was deserted today. It was a good thing, Maureen thought. She wasn’t able for Irish dancing not today. Her stomach was doing enough of a jig as it was. She had a split second to contemplate the two women sitting with him, older versions of the teenagers immortalised on his living room wall, before he was out of his seat and making his way through the crowded space to where the O’Mara women were hovering by the bar.
‘Maureen,’ he boomed, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Then, taking a step back, he looked from Aisling to Moira who’d been put on the back foot by the effusive greeting. ‘Now then with that gorgeous hair, I’m going to guess, you’re Aisling.’
Aisling nodded. She didn’t know what she’d expected Donal to be like but he was a big teddy bear of a man. Handsome too, in a big teddy bear sorta way. He’d clasped hold of her hand and was shaking it warmly before turning his attention to Moira.
Moira’s eyes flashed
in a silent challenge for him to get it right and she sensed Mammy stiffen next to her, willing her to behave herself. ‘And of course, you’re Moira. Your mammy said you’d a look of Demi Moore about you. How do you do?’ He gave her hand a pat between his big bear paw. It was warm and dry which gave him some kudos because Moira couldn’t stand a sweaty palm. He was nothing like Daddy to look at, she mused, drinking in the sight of him curiously but he did remind her of someone. Someone famous but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She liked his eyes, she decided; they were twinkly, maybe it was Father Christmas he reminded her of, he had a beard and twinkly eyes. She didn’t get to ponder this further though because Roisin popped up alongside her like a jack-in-the-box.
‘And I’m Rosi.’ She took Donal’s hand and shook it. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m not late I hope?’
‘Not at all, Rosi. I’ve heard all about you, and Maureen was after telling me you can stand on your head and everything. Not to mention you’ve a fine young son.’
‘I can and I have, yes, Noah, he’s five.’
‘Well, Maureen, you’ve three beautiful girls. No wonder you’re so proud of them.’ Donal beamed at each of them.
Maureen looked from one to the other of her three daughters, the mother hen, who was indeed proud of her chicks.
Chapter 27
Donal clapped his hands and in that big voice of his suggested they join him at their table so as he could introduce them to Louise and Anna. ‘They’re looking forward to meeting you all and then we can get the drinks in.’ He’d taken charge, for which Maureen was grateful. He’d also taken hold of her hand in order to steer her over to the table to where his daughters were waiting. She could feel her girls’ eyes on her back soaking in the strange sight of their mammy holding hands with a man they’d only just met. The flash of disapproval at their father’s gesture on the face of the younger of the two women, Anna, didn’t escape her notice either and she shivered in trepidation.
Donal made the introductions and Louise who was the eldest by two years nodded her hellos to the O’Mara group, the curiosity on her face plain to see. Anna did so too, although her expression was guarded as she sized them all up. There was a lot of silent looking up and down one another as Maureen took her coat off and hung it on the back of the chair next to where Donal had been seated. He pulled it out for her and she sat down. She now knew what the saying ‘cat on a hot tin roof’ meant, because jumpy and skittish was exactly how she felt and she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
Louise, she saw, surreptitiously looking across the table at her, wore her hair short which gave her a no-nonsense, schoolteacher air. She gave the impression of being the sort of woman who’d be on committees and lots of them which, according to Donal, she was. She had her father’s grey eyes and Maureen found comfort in that. She planned on talking to her about her children, a boy and a girl and for the life of her she couldn’t remember their names which was ridiculous given Donal talked about them all the time. Her mind had gone blank due to her jangling nerves.
It was Anna who was making her nervous. You’d never guess Louise and Anna were sisters, at least not to look at. Mind, the same could be said about Aisling with her fair skinned colouring as compared to the rest of the family. Anna was small and fine boned with fussy, particular movements. Her hair was a soft blonde and sat on her shoulders flicking out at the ends. Donal had told her she’d struggled more than Louise with the loss of Ida. She’d been a mammy’s girl and where Louise had the distraction of a full and busy life, juggling work and raising a family, Anna was an emergency room physician, a demanding role that didn’t leave room, she said, for relationships. She looked fragile, Maureen thought, trying and failing to picture her taking charge in a hospital emergency room. Looks could be deceiving though and she hastily averted her eyes lest she get caught staring.
The walls around them were decorated with everything from framed newspaper cuttings, road signs and photographs, including one of Bill Clinton enjoying a pint here in the pub. The sense of good times had was imprinted in them all. Donal, who’d yet to sit down, had waited until everyone was seated before announcing he’d get the drinks from the bar. He took the orders repeating them slowly to try to remember who wanted what. Anna shot out of her seat. ‘I’ll help you, Dad.’
Louise looked trapped but she couldn’t very well get up as well.
Maureen smiled over at her, wanting to put her at ease, but for a woman who was never short of things to say she was suddenly tongue-tied.
Roisin leaped in. ‘I’m over from London for the weekend, Louise. My son’s staying with his father.’
Louise grabbed hold of the conversation starter, eager not to sit in awkward silence. ‘How old is he?’
‘Five.’ Roisin told her a little about Noah before asking if she had children. Louise gave them all the run down on her two, Brodie and Katie, making them laugh as she described the mayhem, they’d caused earlier that morning when they’d let their pet rabbits out of their hutch and they’d promptly hopped off on a neighbourhood sabbatical.
‘I spent all morning trying to find them.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘And did you?’ Roisin asked.
‘I did, but only because Mrs Grenfall who lives at the end of the street telephoned my husband to say she had two rabbits fine-dining in her vegetable patch.’
Everybody laughed and the tension hovering over their table dissipated.
‘Has Noah any pets?’ Louise asked.
Roisin nodded. ‘Yes, Mr Nibbles, his gerbil and he dotes on him.’ She shared the story of how Mr Nibbles had decided her ex-mother-in-law’s bra made a lovely bed, and the fuss she’d made upon finding Mr Nibbles nestling in the cup of her best bra.
They were all giggling when Donal put a round of drinks down in front of them with a pleased expression at the joviality around the table. Anna, carrying two wine glasses slid one towards her sister and shot her a glance as though to say, traitor!
She was going to be a tough nut to crack, Maureen thought, sighing into her wine glass.
Donal asked how the yoga pant party had gone and Moira piped up.
‘They’re called the Mo-pant now, aren’t they, Mammy? It’s short for Maureen not Moira in case you’re wondering.’
Maureen gave Moira a warning look. ‘We sold out. The party was a success.’
‘What’s this all about?’ Louise asked, her curiosity piqued as Anna nursed her glass close to her chest.
The mood as Maureen relayed the story as to how they’d doctored the wine bottles was good-humoured and relaxed by the time the young lad waiting tables came over with his pen and pad in hand. Even Anna seemed a little more at ease. There was a mass opening of menus with Moira the first to order, Anna the last.
‘So, these pants, Maureen, they’re super comfortable you say?’ Louise asked.
Maureen nodded. ‘They are. Aren’t they girls?’
The O’Mara sisters nodded and all three crossed their fingers under the table. The same thought running through their heads, please God don’t let her take it upon herself to get up and do a line dance demonstration, but then remembering she wasn’t wearing her Mo-pants they uncrossed them once more.
‘Would I be able to order a pair?’ Louise asked, to all their surprise.
Maureen looked to Roisin. ‘Rosi’s my supplier.’
‘We sold out, Louise, but I’d be happy to post you a pair when I get home.’
‘Grand. Let me know how much and I’ll fix you up before we leave.’
‘And I’ll get your address.’ Rosi smiled across the table having made up her mind she liked her.
Maureen risked a glance at Anna whose face was inscrutable. She chewed her bottom lip and then decided to try her luck instigating a conversation because she was nothing if not one of life’s tryers and God loved a tryer.
‘Anna, your dad’s after telling me what an important job you have at the hospital. Anna’s an emergency room physician.’ She told Roisin, Aisling
and Moira who made various utterances of ‘really?’ and ‘oh wow’.
Anna nodded.
She could have been chewing on a clove given the look on her face, Roisin thought. If she was her sister, she’d be putting the boot in under the table.
‘You do some long hours, don’t you, love?’ Donal coaxed.
Anna shrugged, not meeting anyone’s gaze as she held the stem of her wine glass. ‘People keep having emergencies.’
Moira asked, ‘Is it like ER, you know, with your man Clooney?’
Anna was scornful as she replied, ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’
A tenseness settled over the table once more and this time it was Donal who chipped away at it by enquiring how Moira was getting on at college. ‘She’s a very good artist,’ he told his girls. ‘Maureen’s shown me a painting you did which won the Texaco Children’s Art competition. It was very good. Of a fox it was.’
‘Foxy Loxy,’ Moira informed them.
‘Mr Fox,’ Aisling said.
‘He’s our resident fox at O’Mara’s. He’s a hole he squeezes through from the Iveagh Gardens behind the guesthouse in order to visit the bin outside our kitchen. It drives Mrs Flaherty, the breakfast cook, up the wall because he more often than not leaves a trail of rubbish behind to let her know he’s paid a visit. She’s always threatening to storm the gardens with her rolling pin.’
There was laughter at the image invoked and then Louise asked about the guesthouse, commenting on what a gorgeous example of Georgian architecture it was, not to mention its fabulous location. ‘Dad told me you all grew up there. It must have been interesting, what with the different guests coming and going.’
‘Well, we didn’t know any different but I suppose it was,’ Aisling spoke up for the first time as she described their games of hide and seek and how she’d tuck herself away in the dumbwaiter running all the way from their apartment on the top floor to the basement kitchen in order to read in peace. ‘St Stephen’s Green across the way was our garden,’ she added. ‘You can see the treetops from our living room window and I love to watch the leaves changing with the seasons.’
The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2 Page 55
