The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2

by Michelle Vernal

  ‘You’re a bit early, love,’ he called over, doing a double-take as he registered her hat, boots and tambourine. Nobody had told him it was a country and western theme night. He’d have worn his bolo neck tie and sheriff’s badge had he known. They hadn’t had an outing since he’d gone to his Uncle Diarmuid’s fiftieth birthday hoe down in Limerick. The craic had been mighty and the badge had worked wonders with the ladies. He grinned to himself recalling the fumble out the back he’d had with a lass in Daisy Duke denim shorts. Alright there wasn’t much chance of her pasty white legs being insured for a million dollars but still, all in all it had been a memorable night. He glanced at the balloons remembering tonight was a seventieth birthday party and was suddenly glad he’d left his badge at home.

  Maureen cleared her throat, gaining his attention once more, before saying the words she’d never thought to say in her lifetime, ‘I’m with the band.’ She tossed her head for effect and nearly lost her hat.

  ‘The Gamblers?’

  ‘That’s them. I’m on percussion,’ she shook her tambourine. ‘And doing a couple of duets. The birthday girl’s a fan of Sheena and Dolly.’

  ‘I’ve heard they’re good. I like a bit of Kenny Rogers now and again.’

  ‘They are good,’ Maureen said loyally, stepping aside to let Niall, the guitarist, who was toting a large amp past. He carried it over on bandy legs to the corner of the room where an area had been cleared of tables and chairs for the band and dancing. Davey followed with the keyboard and John who was on drums brought up the rear.

  ‘A drink, lads? And lasses,’ the bartender hastily added, catching Maureen’s eye before doing the honours.

  A pencil-like woman in a black fitted dress was next to arrive, along with her entourage of two children and a husband carrying an enormous cake. She directed him to the kitchen out the back, told the children to get themselves a lemonade, and made a beeline towards where Maureen and The Gamblers were supping their pints. They were enveloped in a cloud of thick, flowery perfume which made Maureen feel as though she were standing in a rose garden listening to a talking pencil.

  ‘Hello there, I’m Patsy, the birthday girl’s daughter.’

  They returned the greeting and then she turned her attention to Donal. ‘And you must be Kenny, I mean Donal. We talked on the phone.’

  ‘We did.’ Donal shook her hand.

  ‘You’re all set-up, I see.’

  ‘We are, so you just give us the word and we’ll start playing.’

  ‘I thought we’d let everybody have a few drinks and catch up, something to eat that sorta thing, and then you could come on around nine. How does that sound?’

  ‘Sounds grand.’ He gave her a smile and she tottered off, waving over to a nattily dressed couple who’d appeared in the interim.

  It wasn’t long before a trickle of guests began arriving, milling about the room with exclamations of, ‘I haven’t seen you since Gina and Donald’s wedding, it was a lovely roast dinner we were after having at the reception’ or ‘do you remember the holy show of herself Nancy made at Catriona’s twenty-first doing the cancan, don’t let her touch any top shelf drinks or she’ll be flicking her skirt up at all and sundry,’ and the like.

  Maureen sat at the table along with the rest of the band, sipping her drink, watching the proceedings. Everybody was enjoying the craic and by the time she was on her second drink the tables were full and a small crowd was gathered near the bar, making the most of the tab. Conversation had been turned up a notch as drinks were consumed. The pencil-like woman with her hair scraped back in a bun was having no luck trying to get the party-goers to quieten down so as she could make an announcement. She enlisted Donal’s help after several attempts and he switched on his microphone, handing it to her. Everybody froze as it screeched into life, fingers down a blackboard style, and then her voice boomed out. Donal had to whisper in her ear that it wasn’t a good idea to hold your mouth right to the microphone and shout. Eventually, to everyone’s relief, she found a happy medium and announced the birthday girl was two minutes away.

  She’d only just conveyed her message when the doors burst open to reveal a sprightly woman with lots of glittery jewellery who was on the arm of a man whose silver-topped head was barely visible above the dinner jacket swamping him. An almighty cheer went up followed by shouts of ‘Happy Birthday!’ and some halfwit, eejit calling out, ‘You don’t look a day over seventy, Nora!’

  The drinks flowed once more and yer man behind the bar deserved a medal for keeping up with the orders being shouted at him. Two youngsters, probably Nora’s grandchildren, Maureen surmised, began doing the rounds of the room with platters of savouries and little triangle ham and egg sandwiches. It would take more than a sausage roll and a bite-sized sandwich to sort this lot out, Maureen mused, helping herself to a sausage roll. Only the one mind because she wasn’t a hypocrite. Joan Fairbrother sprang to mind; she’d have cleared a tray up on her own given the chance.

  As the evening wore on so too did Maureen’s nerves. She’d have been grand if they’d gotten straight into it but the waiting around was giving her plenty of time to wonder what she was doing. Donal could see her leg jiggling and picked up on her nerves. He reached over and patted her knee giving her a reassuring smile. ‘It’s only another ten minutes and we’re up. The trick is to pretend they’re all naked, the lot of them.’ He winked.

  Maureen looked around the room and as her eyes raked over a portly chap, she was assailed by an image she hastily erased. ‘If it’s alright with you, I think I’ll leave their underpants on,’ she said to Donal, causing him to let out a loud guffaw.

  ‘You do what works for you, Maureen.’

  At last it was time for them to get up and the lads arranged themselves with practised ease. Maureen took her place over to the right of Donal, her new tambourine firmly in her grasp. She willed her trembling hands to stay still and as the band launched into Reuben James, Maureen forgot she was nervous as she tapped the tambourine against her side and swayed to the familiar rhythms. People began migrating toward the area reserved for dancing in front of where they were playing and as she saw enjoyment on their faces her confidence grew. By the time the third song in the set came to a close she was relaxed and having fun, as were the audience. Each song had been met with loud applause. Donal paused between songs to introduce her.

  ‘We’ve a special guest joining The Gambler’s tonight, Maureen O’Mara.’

  Maureen basked in the applause.

  ‘And isn’t she pretty as picture?’

  Some old letch with glasses so thick they could have been cut off the bottom of milk bottles whistled. Maureen shot him a look telling him to behave himself.

  ‘A little bird told me that this is one of Nora, the birthday girl’s favourite songs. Happy birthday, Nora, this is for you.’ There was a loud whistle and a cheer went up quietening down as the intro was played by Davey on the keyboard. Donal crooned the opening lines and then Maureen leaped in, looking deep into his eyes as she sang, losing herself in Donal and the music. She sang with every ounce of her being, she sang from her heart, and as the number drew to a close the slow dancing couples broke apart to clap thunderously. It was a moment Maureen pressed like a flower between the pages of her mind to pull out in the years to come. She moved back to her post and was about to begin shaking her tambourine to Daytime Friends when she spied a face in the crowd. A familiar face whose mouth had formed an ‘O’ and catching her mammy’s eye, Moira mouthed, ‘Mammy, what the feck are you doing?’

  For Maureen’s part she wanted to know what Moira was doing at a seventieth birthday party at the Clontarf Rugby Club.

  Chapter 36

  It was when the birthday cake, a triple-layered cream sponge was being passed about the crowded and hot clubroom, Moira finally managed to pin her mammy down.

  ‘Mammy, you should have told me.’ Moira wasn’t sure where to start with what exactly Mammy should have told her. That Donal was the lead singer i
n a Kenny Roger’s tribute band? The penny had dropped as to who he’d reminded her of. It wasn’t Father Christmas after all, it was Kenny Rogers. And then, there was the fact that Mammy was after playing tambourine in that band. Or, was it that she was doing a Kenny, Sheena duet? That she had white cowboy boots which were kind of cool, just not on Mammy? And, why was she wearing a yellow dress that could have served as a bridesmaid’s dress in the seventies? Her mind was so full of all these questions jostling for attention she couldn’t articulate any of them. ‘I’m shocked, so I am.’ Was all she could come up with.

  ‘What are you doing here, Moira, are you following me?’ Maureen narrowed her eyes.

  Moira snorted. ‘Mammy, I have better things to do than sneak after you on a Saturday night to see what you’re getting up to. I’m here with Tom, it’s his great aunt’s birthday.’

  Jaysus wept, but Ireland was a small country, Dublin an even smaller city; you could get away with nothing, Maureen mused.

  ‘Moira!’ Donal boomed, ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

  ‘Fancy,’ Moira replied as Tom came up and joined her.

  ‘Maureen, who’d have thought? You’re a sly old dog.’ Tom flushed realising what he’d said. ‘What I meant to say was I didn’t know you could sing. You were great so you were. It was like watching an episode of Stars in their Eyes.’ He held out a hand to Donal. ‘I’m Moira’s fella, Tom, you must be Donal.’

  Moira put a hand firmly on Tom’s bottom as she spied two women around her own age giving him the glad eye. It was a momentary distraction from the whole Mammy, Sheena thing. He jumped at the unexpected bodily contact as he shook hands with Donal. ‘You had everybody up on their feet,’ he said, reverting to his normal height as Moira released her grip, satisfied she’d made her point. Still, she kept a firm eye on the two women as they mooched off to check out what other talent was on offer. Tom engaged Donal in a conversation about Shay, Roisin’s boyfriend, who was also in a band while Maureen and Moira squared off.

  ‘You’ve been keeping a lot of secrets, Mammy. Relationships are built on trust you know.’

  Maureen frowned because she was certain she’d said those very words to Moira when she was younger. Yes, she could recall quite clearly her response to her youngest daughter telling her she was going to a church youth group club when in actual fact she’d been spotted by Aisling who hadn’t hesitated to land her little sister in it, at the Hairy Lemon pub.

  ‘I’ve been keeping secrets for a reason because you’ve far too much to say for yourself. Sure, if you’d known I was going to be here tonight with Donal and the band, you’d have poked fun at me and him.’

  Moira would have liked to have said it wasn’t true and she’d have done no such thing but she had an inkling it was exactly what she’d have done. Mammy had a point.

  ‘It was a shock seeing you up there like that, is all. It’s not every day your mammy, who only ever sang along to the radio gets up and sings Sheena Easton. I had no idea Donal was even in a band let alone a Kenny Roger’s tribute band. He’s very good,’ she admitted, and then seeing her mammy’s face added, ‘And so were you. That’s a grand tambourine you’re after shaking and you hit those high notes like Sheena herself.’ Moira was grateful Mammy was in the yellow dress and not the white, disco spandex pants Sheena had worn back in the day.

  ‘Thank you, Moira, that’s kind of you to say. I’m Dolly in the next set.’ Maureen decided to be magnanimous too, although she knew her phone would be ringing first thing tomorrow morning with Aisling and Roisin demanding to know why she hadn’t told them her new fella sang in a Kenny Rogers tribute band and how she was after singing Sheena at a seventieth birthday party. She wondered what they’d have to say when she told them she and Donal were talking about going to Los Angeles for a holiday to see Patrick. Plenty, she was sure, but she’d have to wait and see because for now her audience was waiting.

  Chapter 37

  1971

  The weekend Bronagh was supposed to have been in Donegal was the slowest one she’d ever known. She’d tried to quash the unease she felt at the memory of the last kiss she’d shared with Kevin and somehow, managed to keep a bright face on things for her mam’s sake. ‘Sure, there’ll be plenty more times to go to Donegal. His family’s not going anywhere, Mam, and as soon as Erin’s well we’ll sort out another date for you to go to Tramore. It’s one of those things, what can you do?’ she’d said, injecting a cheeriness she didn’t feel into her voice.

  Mam had been so disappointed she was going to miss out on seeing Hilary and the children. She’d been quiet all weekend, busying her hands with a tapestry of kittens playing with a ball of string she was working on for Erin’s bedroom. Bronagh couldn’t bear it if she felt guilty about her and Kevin’s Donegal jaunt being cancelled too. She never wanted her to feel she was a burden because she wasn’t. Truth be told, and it was something she’d only admit to herself, no one else, she needed her mam, just as much as Myrna needed her. She’d never lived anywhere but here and as time wore on, she found it hard to imagine living anywhere else.

  Monday eventually crept around and Bronagh’s day at work was a busy and welcome distraction to the waiting to hear from Kevin. A large, boisterous group of chemists from around the country had barrelled in on a group booking for a conference being held on Tuesday in the city. The day sped by and she was surprised and happy when she left O’Mara’s late that afternoon to see Kevin waving out from across the road by St Fusilier’s Arch. She waited for a break in the slow-moving traffic and ran over to where he was waiting with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

  She wished she hadn’t taken the gorgeous burgundy coat back now. It would have been nice to show it off to him. To put this missed weekend behind them. In a fit of martyrdom on Saturday morning though, she’d returned it to Brown Thomas. Now, all she wanted was to feel the reassurance of his arms around her and to rest her head on his shoulder so as to breathe in the familiar smoky, leathery smell of his jacket. Everything would be alright, she told herself, her face breaking into a wide, happy smile as she reached him. Just as she’d said to Mam, there’d be other opportunities for them to head north. ‘Did you have a nice time?’ she asked once she’d caught her breath.

  ‘I did. It was good to see everybody and it gave me a chance to clear my head and think things through properly.’

  ‘Oh.’ There was a stiffness to his shoulders and she wondered whether he’d had a bad day at work. She knew he wasn’t a fan of Mondays. Instead of the warm hug she’d anticipated she received a kiss on her cheek, his lips cool and dry as they grazed her skin and his expression unreadable. She stamped on the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling herself she was a pessimist of the highest order. Everything would be alright. He was here, wasn’t he? She didn’t ask what things he’d needed to think through because she didn’t want to know the answer.

  He fished a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped the pack, taking one and sticking it in his mouth. Bronagh watched as he lit it with the Zippo, the flame strong and steady despite the breeze. She tried to summon up the warm, happy emotions she’d felt lying next to him on the blanket that summer’s day in Phoenix Park but they refused to come. Instead, she watched him inhale the smoke deeply before blowing it out to join the exhaust fumes from the passing cars. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’ He inclined his head toward the Green.

  ‘Grand, it’ll be good to stretch my legs after sitting down all day,’ Bronagh replied with a brightness she didn’t feel. She linked her arm through his and they walked through the arch and into the park where people, rugged up in their coats and hats, scurried past, not pausing to take in their surrounds in their eagerness to get home. Kevin smoked steadily and she walked beside him in silence and when his words came, they sounded harsh and overly loud as each one sliced through her.

  ‘Bronagh, I think it’s for the best if we stop seeing one another.’ Kevin dropped the smouldering butt on to the ground grinding it
out with the toe of his shoe.

  She released her arm from his and stopped dead on the path, staring at him in disbelief, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. ‘What are you talking about, sure, we’re grand.’ Her voice had a wavering pitch and Kevin glanced around nervously not wanting a scene. He pulled her toward a bench out of the way of the passing foot traffic and she sat down glad to take the weight off her feet because her legs were shaky, as was the rest of her body. He perched next to her leaning forward, leg jiggling, hands clasped, being sure to keep a careful distance between them.

  Bronagh turned and saw his jaw set in a hard line. This couldn’t be happening! ‘Why, where’s this come from? We were fine before you went home,’ she managed to ask. Her hand reached out to rest on his arm pleading to understand.

  ‘I wasn’t fine, Bronagh, but Mam—'

  ‘Oh, it’s down to your mam, is it? Well, I don’t see how she can have a say given she’s never met me. That’s hardly fair.’

  ‘Listen, Bronagh.’ His voice was hard. ‘You didn’t give her the chance to meet you and she only confirmed in my mind what I was beginning to feel anyway. I’m never going to come first with you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ She wished he’d stop jiggling his leg.

  ‘With you, I’m never going to come first. I think you’re as dependant on your mam as she is on you and she’ll always be your first priority.’ He looked at her now, daring her to say this wasn’t the case.

  ‘She’s ill, Kev, c’mon you know that. She needs me.’

  ‘Not you exclusively, Bronagh. There’re others who’d be happy to help if you asked. Only you won’t because you don’t trust anyone else.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t. You can’t put this all on me. I would have gone if Mam could’ve gone to Hilary’s but, and through no fault of my own, she couldn’t. You knew that.’ Her voice wobbled dangerously at the unfairness of what he was saying and her eyes burned hot.