The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2

by Michelle Vernal

  ‘And you manage it now?’ Louise asked.

  ‘I do, I love the place, and our guests. There’s never a dull moment. I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.’

  ‘And you’re a newly-wed?’

  ‘Ah, Sweet Jesus,’ said Moira. ‘Don’t be getting her started on that.’ She winced as Mammy kicked her under the table.

  The food began to arrive then, steaming plates of poached or pan-fried fish and Dublin Bay prawn deliciousness. They tucked in, all exclaiming over the buttery fish or silky sauce and the like before Maureen enquired as to what Louise’s husband did, knowing it was something unpronounceable and interesting that took him away from home on occasion and involved dinosaur bones.

  She filled them in on his role as a palaeontologist and the latest dig he was working on in Argentina.

  ‘That must be hard, him being away for chunks of time like that,’ Roisin said.

  ‘The hardest thing is adjusting to him being back. Oh, don’t get me wrong,’ The flaky white fish wobbled on her fork which was poised midway between plate and mouth. ‘I love my husband dearly but the children and I settle into routines when he’s gone. We have to or we wouldn’t get by, but when he gets home those routines go out the window and we all have to readjust once more.’

  Roisin nodded in understanding.

  By the end of the meal all the plates were almost licked clean, apart from Anna’s, she’d barely touched her food or spoken. Any questions directed at her had been answered with the minimum number of words.

  Moira looked at her sitting there all lemony lipped. This situation wasn’t easy for any of them and sure, she’d been looking forward to lunch today as much as she would a visit to the dentist for a root canal. Nevertheless, she’d made an effort. To her complete amazement she’d found herself warming to Donal despite her prior conviction she’d detest him on sight. She suspected it was on account of the Father Christmas thing. How could you dislike Father Christmas? Anna’s expression throughout their meal had suggested someone had broken wind. Mammy was trying and it was making Moira cringe inside each time her forced cheeriness was rebuffed by Anna. It wasn’t fair of her to treat Mammy as if she was something unpleasant on the sole of her shoe. She didn’t deserve it and she’d had enough.

  It was time somebody took matters into their own hands.

  Chapter 28

  Dessert was dished out and being devoured when Anna mumbled her excuses and got up from the table in order to visit the Ladies. Moira carried on eating her Eton mess for a moment and then pushed her chair back saying she needed the bathroom. Maureen watched her go, it hadn’t escaped her notice Anna had vacated her seat a few seconds earlier. She wondered what Moira was up to but there wasn’t much she could say without causing a scene, and besides the lure of her whiskey cake was calling her to stay put and eat up.

  Moira followed the sign, protruding from the wall, directing her to the Ladies and pushed open the door. There was only one occupied cubicle and she waited with her arms folded across her chest beside the hand drier. The loo flushed and Anna exited, her mouth forming an ‘O’ as she saw Moira standing there like an interrogator for the secret police.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, finding her words.

  Moira softened her stance. She didn’t want a pistols drawn at high noon scenario. She let her arms fall to her sides and said, ‘Anna, I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you but I can tell you love your dad as much as I love my mammy.’

  Anna’s face was closed as she soaped up her hands. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Moira, isn’t it, accosting me in here like this.’

  ‘I wanted a word was all. Nobody’s accosting anybody.’

  Anna didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, go on then, say your piece.’

  Moira cleared her throat; she decided to just go with whatever came out of her mouth. ‘When I found out Mammy had been dating someone, I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t ready for it. My daddy was my world and I’d thought he was Mammy’s world too. It seemed,’ she shrugged, trying to find the right words. ‘Disloyal, I suppose, her even entertaining the idea of stepping out with another man.’

  Anna ran the tap, rinsing her hands. She didn’t say a word but at least she was listening, Moira thought, taking her cue to carry on. ‘You know, I came to lunch today expecting not to like your dad but I saw the way he treats Mammy with respect and clearly enjoys being around her. Her face glows every time he talks to her. I love her and I don’t want her to be lonely and the bottom line is, she has been lonely without Daddy and he’s not coming back. I suppose I’ve decided over lunch just now, if she thinks your dad is wonderful then I owe it to her to get to know him.’

  Anna moved her hands out from under the tap and it stopped running. She turned to face Moira and a tear slid down her cheek. Moira thought she looked very young and vulnerable but knew her to be older than she was. Her voice wobbled as she spoke. ‘You know, in my line of work you’d think I’d be used to the fragility of life. I see people in unfathomable states every day and sometimes I can’t patch them up and they die but I don’t see the aftermath. I don’t see the impact losing their loved one has on the people sitting in the hospital waiting room. Or, how they deal with their loss in the weeks, or months following. I wasn’t ready to lose my mum.’

  ‘Was it sudden?’ Moira didn’t know how Donal’s wife had passed.

  Anna nodded. ‘She had a heart attack behind the wheel of her car and died instantly. Small mercy no one else was hurt when she crashed. I’ve had no idea how to handle it and I don’t know how I’m supposed to be anymore. The rug’s been ripped out from under my feet and Dad’s my one constant.’

  Moira didn’t think, she acted, and stepping forward she embraced Anna. To her surprise it was returned and she felt her body shuddering as she sobbed. ‘Anna, that’s how I felt, too. Daddy was my safety net. I knew I could screw up and he’d pick me up and put me back on the right path again because he always did. I didn’t deal well with his passing. It’s why I don’t drink anymore.’

  They broke apart a little embarrassed by the intimacy and Anna ducked into the cubicle she’d exited and tore off some toilet paper, she passed a wad to Moira so she could blow her nose too. She dabbed her eyes, and wiped her nose before saying, ‘I want Dad to be happy, of course I do. It’s just, I thought me and Louise and the children were enough.’

  ‘I thought the same.’ Moira tossed the soggy paper in the bin. ‘I couldn’t understand why Mammy needed anyone else. She’s us and plenty of friends to be getting about with but with Donal it’s different.’

  ‘I need to let Dad move on, don’t I?’

  Anna was seeking confirmation and Moira wondered in that instant how she managed such a responsible role at the hospital. She had to be so much stronger than she looked. ‘I think we both need to understand we’re not losing our mam and daddy all over again, because they’ll always be with us, here.’ She put her hand on her heart. ‘But maybe we’re going to gain some new friends. I’m hoping so.’ Her smile was tentative.

  Anna blinked at this girl standing uncertainly in front of her. She was extremely pretty and she’d pigeon holed her as an airhead on sight but she was anything but. ‘I’d like that, too.’

  She turned then to look in the mirror. ‘We’d better be getting back or they’ll be thinking we’re after having fisticuffs. Jaysus, I look like I’ve been in the ring with one of the Fury’s.’

  ‘Here,’ Moira opened her bag and retrieved a cotton bud from her cosmetic purse. ‘This’ll do the trick.’

  ‘Thanks. I can’t wear waterproof mascara, my eyes are too sensitive.’ She set about using the bud to wipe the smudged black streaks from under her eyes and then, satisfied she was as good as she was going to get, said, ‘Come on then. I’m wishing I’d ordered dessert now.’

  ‘You can share mine,’ Moira said, holding the door open.

  Chapter 29

  Bronagh had hummed and hawed over wearing her
new Mo-pants to church. She was worried she’d be on the receiving end of a disapproving look from Father Kilpatrick for being too casual in her dress. The conundrum was, she was feeling rather bloated and couldn’t face the thought of sitting like an overstuffed garden gnome for the duration of the service. The reason for this state of affairs was because she’d helped clear up what was left of the lovely nibbly finger food on offer at the party last night along with a woman named Joan. Her skirt had been very short given the weather and Bronagh had been pleased to hear she’d bought a pair of Mo-pants herself. They’d be far more appropriate for her to be gadding about in. Comfort was key she’d decided in the end and so had teamed the pants with an oversized teal sweater and matching scarf.

  As it happened, there was no such look forthcoming from Father Kilpatrick and she’d had more than one tap on the shoulder to tell her how well she looked. Mam too had enjoyed the choice of hymns today and was still humming now as she finished off her scrapbook project. She was a proper songbird was Mam. She always said, no matter how she was feeling within herself music had the power to lift her soul. She’d have to get her a pair of the Mo-pants too, Bronagh decided. If she’d wear them that was. She wasn’t a trouser woman, she preferred her skirts. She’d think on it.

  The phone rang as Bronagh peeled the lid back from a tin of tomato soup. She’d picked up a loaf of fresh bread to go with it for lunch on their way home. She’d lost track of the time she saw, glancing at the wall clock and realising it was midday. Hilary rang every Sunday to speak to Mam at twelve o’clock on the dot and so she put the tin down and went to answer the phone. There was no point in seeing to lunch until Mam had finished her chat.

  ‘Hello?’ she asked, even though she knew who it was.

  ‘Bronagh, it’s Hilary. How’s your week been?’

  ‘Grand.’ She debated telling her sister about the party she’d been to last night but decided not to. From experience she knew Hilary, the queen of one-upmanship, would cut her off mid-flow to tell her about her new dress or coat or whatever. No, she decided, swallowing back the story, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel miffed by her sister not when she was in such a sunny mood. Instead, she fibbed and said, ‘I’ll pass you over to Mam, Hilary. I’ve soup on the stove and it’s about to boil over.

  She took the phone in for her mam who put the glue she’d been about to stick to the back of a tiny cardboard flower down on the tray table along with the rest of her materials. She sat up in her chair expectantly and took the telephone from Bronagh. She looked forward to hearing all Hilary’s news each week. Bronagh went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table. A cloud had passed over the sun just as it had her mood, despite her best intentions. Hilary’s voice had brought the past knocking once more.

  1971

  Bronagh hung her new coat in her wardrobe. She’d bought it in Brown Thomas on her way home from work. The rich, burgundy colour and smart gold buttons had drawn her over to the mannequin displaying it and she’d known it was perfect for her trip to Donegal. She’d tell a while lie if her mam asked where it was from, she’d tell her Arnotts. She was still loyal to her old place of employment even now. Her wardrobe for the weekend in the north was now complete. She’d new trousers and a gorgeous cream sweater too. She was going for a shampoo and set on Friday straight from work which would still give her time to organise the taxi to take her mam to the station.

  She hugged herself, barely able to contain her fizzing excitement about the impending break, not just because she was going to meet Kevin’s family but because of the change of scenery. She was so looking forward to being somewhere different, sniffing the Donegal air and exploring the sights to be seen through adult eyes. The last time she’d been up that way, she’d been a child with no interest in anything other than, would there be swimming and would they be allowed an ice cream? It would do both her and Mam the world of good to have a couple of days away from home, she thought, picking up her mam’s habit and humming to herself.

  She heard the door go downstairs followed by muffled voices below her. Kevin was here for his tea. She’d a lovely corned beef simmering in the pot and would serve it with a generous dollop of cabbage and mashed potato. Kevin liked her mash. He’d even gone so far as to tell her it was better than his mam’s which was high praise indeed. Bronagh knew how much he missed her home cooking. She’d told him it was down to her secret ingredient. He’d pressed her but she refused to divulge it because she didn’t want him passing it on to his mam and sisters. The mash was her pièce de résistance as the French would say! Butter, and lots of it, was the key to flavour when it came to tasty cooking but what made her potato side dish stand out was the sprinkle of garlic powder she added. Another nod to the French.

  Bronagh ran a brush through her hair and freshened her lipstick in her dressing table mirror before closing her bedroom door and taking to the stairs two at a time. Kevin was in the front room talking to her mam. He turned when she walked in and flashed her a grin which still had the effect of making her knees go weak. She knew a grin was all she’d get too. He was far too polite to kiss her in front of her mam who was sitting forward in her chair waiting for him to tell her about his day.

  She smiled back at him and left them to chat as she went to put the potatoes on. She was chopping the cabbage when she felt his arms snake around her waist before he planted a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘How’re you, gorgeous?’

  ‘Grand.’

  ‘What’s for dinner.’

  ‘Corned beef, mash and cabbage.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that, and will you be making the gravy I like too?’

  ‘I might be. You’ll have to wait and see,’ she teased, before shaking him off. ‘Now don’t be distracting me or there’ll be no dinner for anyone.’

  ‘I came in for the sherry bottle.’

  ‘You know where it is,’ Bronagh said, pointing the knife in her hand to the cupboard where the bottle of sweet sherry was kept. Myrna had taken to enjoying a small tot when Kevin came for his tea. He retrieved it, then helped himself to a can from the fridge. Bronagh always made sure she had a couple in for when he called. He lifted the tab and she heard the phfft of gas being released. He fetched a glass and poured the contents into it, knowing Myrna would disapprove of him drinking straight from the can.

  There was laughter around the kitchen table that evening as Kevin told them a tale about a woman who’d gone out to collect the milk still at the gate well after ten that morning, in her dressing gown and slippers, only to have the door snip shut behind her. She’d had to go to the neighbours and wait there for him to come. She’d been mortified, he said.

  ‘Was it a housecoat sorta dressing gown, you know the type they wear in the films with the heeled fluffy, kitten slippers?’ Bronagh asked tongue-in-cheek, doubting there were many women in the Dublin suburbs who got around of a morning dressed like Hollywood film stars.

  ‘No, it was not. It was a tatty old thing.’

  That made her giggle.

  ‘Serves her right for not getting dressed in the first place,’ Myrna piped up. She prided herself on always getting dressed, even on her worst days, if she made it down the stairs. ‘This meat’s lovely, Bronagh. Melt in your mouth.’

  The telephone shrilling made them all jump and Bronagh resented the intrusion into their pleasant evening but she couldn’t very well leave it unanswered. She answered it on the third ring. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Bronagh, it’s Hilary.’

  Her sister’s voice turned the meal she’d been enjoying into a solidified lump in the pit of her stomach. She wouldn’t be phoning to chat about the weather. Not wanting the rest of the evening spoiled, she tried to head her off. ‘Hilary, can I call you back we’re just having our tea.’

  ‘No, listen, I won’t keep you. I’m ringing to apologise because there’s to be a change of plan this weekend. We can’t have Mammy to stay because Erin’s after catching the flu and you know how susceptible Mammy is. She couldn�
��t possibly be around her.’

  Bronagh’s chest tightened at the crushing disappointment of it all and if her mam and Kevin weren’t sitting a stone’s throw away, she’d have burst into messy, noisy tears at the unfairness of it all. As it was, she kicked the carpet, glad of the pain in her toe to distract from the pain in her heart.

  Chapter 30

  Maureen and Donal walked past the middle pier where the Howth Yacht Club was located, both rugged up in hats, scarfs and coats, arm in arm. Pooh was leading the charge, snuffling his way along the pavement. They paused, much to Pooh’s chagrin, to look at the curve of the white building with its glassed-in balcony wrapping around it. A blue and white striped awning hovered over it protectively, reminding them the summer months would eventually roll around again. For now though, it was deserted, but in a few months when the weather warmed up, the long, narrow space would be filled with members observing the action in the harbour. The abandoned, moored yachts bobbed in the grey waters of the Irish Sea alongside it, their masts stark white against the sombre sky. Maureen was looking forward to continuing her sailing lessons come the summer and wondered if she might be able to talk Donal into learning too.

  ‘To think that’s where we met,’ he shouted over the wind. They both stood there, lost in the memory of their first encounter. Maureen had been at the yacht club Christmas party, an event she’d been looking forward to until she’d wound up sandwiched between two eejits at the dinner table. Donal and his band were the entertainment and she’d escaped for a dance, their eyes had locked, and the rest was, as they say, history. Donal squeezed her arm. ‘I thought you a fine-looking woman in your red dress the moment I saw you step onto the dance floor, Maureen O’Mara.’