“I come here every weekend,” said Chris. “I love Dollymount. I brought my first girlfriend here!”
Maggie blushed. He laughed.
They walked for miles. Maggie’s hands were cold.
“I’ll warm them for you,” said Chris. “Give them to me.”
She held out her hands. He put his own around them. She shivered.
“Still cold?”
“It’s not the cold,” she said.
They stood together. Maggie thought he was going to kiss her. She felt very guilty.
“Come on,” said Chris. “If we walk back quickly you’ll warm up.”
It was warmer in the car.
“What now?” asked Chris.
“I don’t mind.” Maggie looked at her watch. It was only one o’clock. It seemed much later.
“The movies,” said Chris. “You wanted to go to see a film.”
“I don’t mind really,” said Maggie. “Perhaps I should get home.”
“Day of fun,” said Chris. “Come on.”
They went to the UCI in Coolock. Chris brought her to see Enemy of the State. Maggie liked Will Smith. Chris liked Gene Hackman. He bought the tickets even though she offered to pay.
So Maggie bought popcorn and sweets.
“I feel like a teenager,” she said.
She liked sitting beside Chris in the dark. Their arms were touching. Maggie wondered what she’d do if he put his arm around her. But he didn’t.
“That was good,” she said when the movie was over.
“Yes, it was,” said Chris.
Maggie looked at her watch. “I have to get home,” she said.
“Why?” asked Chris.
“Because Diana will be home. And I have to cook for Dan and Tom.”
“Let them do it themselves,” said Chris. “Stay with me for a while.”
“I can’t,” said Maggie.
He put his arm around her. “Why not?”
She liked him holding her. It was comforting.
“Oh, Chris –” she sighed.
“I like you, Maggie,” he said. “You’re a decent woman.”
“And I should be at home with my family,” she told him.
“Are you sure?”
She looked up at him. “No. But they’re expecting me.”
“OK,” said Chris. He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll leave you home.”
Chapter Eight
The kitchen door banged open.
“What’s for tea?” asked Tom.
He sat down at the kitchen table and opened the newspaper.
“Hello, Mam,” said Maggie. “How was your day? Any news? What’s for tea? Can I help?”
Tom closed the paper and looked at her. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Oh, fine,” she said. “Just fine.”
“Only you sound a bit annoyed.”
“I am,” she said. “Just for once it would be nice if you said something else when you came home.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something other than ‘What’s for tea?’”
“It’s a greeting,” said Tom. “That’s all. And I’m starving.”
Maggie banged a pot onto the hot-plate.
The door opened and Dan walked in. Tom looked at him in warning but Dan didn’t notice.
“Hello, Maggie. What’s for tea?”
Maggie banged another pot on the hot-plate. Dan looked at her in surprise.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“What’s for tea! That’s the matter!”
Dan stared at her.
“Mam’s tired of us asking what’s for tea,” Tom explained. “She wants us to ask something else instead.”
“Like what?” asked Dan.
“For God’s sake!” Maggie turned to him. “All I want is someone to realise that I have a life too. And it isn’t just making your bloody tea!”
“I never said it was.”
“You act like it is,” she snapped. “The both of you!”
Tom and Dan looked at each other.
“You think the only thing I think about all day is your bloody teas!” said Maggie. “That I get up in the morning and I think about what I’m going to cook. That all the time I’m making beds I’m thinking about what to cook. That when I’m shopping I’m thinking about what to cook. Well, I don’t bloody think about it all the time! Or even half of the time!”
“I didn’t think you did,” said Dan.
“Well what do you think I do all day?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He looked puzzled. “Read the paper? Go for a walk? Clean the house? Do some interviews?”
She rubbed her eyes. “You see – you don’t care.”
“Of course I care,” said Dan. “But I don’t know what’s bothering you.”
“I’d just like someone to come in and ask me about my day,” said Maggie. “That’s all.”
“But I do ask you,” said Dan.
“No you don’t,” said Maggie. “You ask me if I’ve done things. If I’ve ironed your best shirt. If I’ve picked up your jacket from the cleaner’s. If I’ve found the letter from the tax people you’ve lost. That’s the kind of thing you ask.”
“You’re being silly,” said Dan.
Tom winced. He didn’t think that was a good thing to say. Neither did Maggie.
“It’s spaghetti bolognese for tea,” she said. “The kettle has boiled. The pasta needs to be cooked. Do it yourself!”
She undid her apron and flung it onto the table. Then she walked out of the kitchen and banged the door behind her.
Tom and Dan stared at each other.
“What was all that about?” asked Dan.
“I haven’t a clue,” said Tom.
“She was pretty mad,” said Dan. “Maybe I should go up to her.”
“Maybe you should let her cool down.”
“You could be right.” Dan got up and looked at the pot. Maggie had left a handful of dry spaghetti beside it. “Do I just pour water over this?”
Tom stood beside him. “I think so. She usually kind of bends it into the pot.”
Dan picked up the spaghetti and put it into the empty pot. He pushed down on it and the strands broke. He looked surprised.
“Is that supposed to happen?” he asked.
“No,” said Tom. “I told you. It bends.”
“Maybe I need the water in first,” said Dan.
“You’re right!” Tom grinned at him. “She puts the water in first.”
“Turn on the tap,” said Dan.
He held the pot under the cold tap while Tom ran the water. Then he tried to push the spaghetti into the pot again. It broke again.
“Ah, what’s the matter with it?” he asked.
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought you were right about the water.”
At that moment, Diana walked in.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Making the tea,” said Dan. “What does it look like?”
“Where’s Mam?”
“Upstairs, I think.”
“What’s she doing up there?”
“She was a bit upset.”
“About what?”
“Nothing,” said Tom. “Hey, Diana, do you know how to cook this?”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Spaghetti.”
“What are you doing with it?”
“Putting it in water.”
“Cold water?” she asked.
Tom nodded.
Diana laughed. “Even I know that it should be boiling water! Boiling water and a splash of oil. To stop it sticking.”
“Oh.” Dan and Tom looked embarrassed.
Diana laughed again. “I’ll go up and tell her,” she said, “that you can’t even cook spaghetti.”
“We can manage,” said Dan. “And you leave your mother alone. She isn’t in the mood for you either.”
Maggie sat on the edge of the bed. She could hear the hum of
their voices. But she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
A tear rolled down her cheek. It had been so different today. With Chris Casey. He’d been kind and nice. He made her feel needed. But not in the way that Dan and Tom and Diana did. Not for cooking and cleaning. Even though she’d helped him with his shopping!
She touched her cheek where he’d kissed her. She felt as though everyone knew. As though her cheek was marked.
But nobody had noticed. Nobody knew that she’d had a different day today. A romantic day. With another man.
She rubbed her eyes. When she’d married Dan she’d pictured them doing everything together. She’d imagined they would always love each other the way they did then.
She wondered if Dan still loved her. Or even if she still loved him.
Chapter Nine
Maggie pushed open the gate of Flora O’Brien’s house. She walked up the path and knocked on the door.
“Oh, hello.” Flora looked at her in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
“I just came to say thanks for the book,” said Maggie.
“You’re welcome,” Flora said. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
“It was great,” said Maggie.
Flora smiled. “I’m glad. I’m always very worried about that. I’m afraid people won’t like them.”
“I couldn’t put it down,” said Maggie. “I loved it when Lisa had to interview Luke.”
“Do you want to come in for a minute?” asked Flora. “Or are you in a hurry?”
“I’m doing interviews,” said Maggie.
“Oh, come on,” said Flora. “You know how it is. I always want a break!”
Maggie followed her into the kitchen. It was a mess. The blue and yellow wallpaper had gone and the walls were bare.
“Pat is decorating,” said Flora. “That’s why the place looks like a bomb hit it. And that’s why I can’t work. I hate it like this.”
“Why don’t you get someone in?” asked Maggie.
Flora sighed. “I can’t afford it,” she said. “The mortgage on this place is crazy. It’s cheaper for Pat to do it.”
“Why are you doing it at all?” asked Maggie. “I liked the blue and yellow.”
Flora blushed. “It’s my fault.”
“Why?”
“We were having a row. I threw a few things.”
“What sort of things?” asked Maggie.
“A cream cake. A bowl of strawberry mousse. A glass of wine. They all hit the wallpaper. It was destroyed.”
“Oh my God,” gasped Maggie. “Were you mad?”
Flora shrugged. “I can’t help it. When I’m annoyed I throw things.”
“Couldn’t you have just cleaned it up?”
“This was Pat’s revenge,” said Flora. “He said he’d do it up for me. I’d shouted that I hated him and I hated this house and I hated everything!”
“And do you?”
“Not at all.” Flora grinned. “But I couldn’t help it. I’d had a bad day. My hero is supposed to be a shit but he keeps doing nice things! I can’t seem to write him as bad as I want.”
Maggie laughed. “I thought you could make them do whatever you liked?”
“Not really.” Flora shook her head. “The people in my books start to live their own lives. You can’t stop them.”
“So you’ve created a bad person but he’s not really so bad?”
“Yes,” said Flora. “And he’s costing me a fortune in decorating.”
“It would be simpler to get someone in,” Maggie said again. “If you like I could ask my son about it. He’s good at decorating. He works in a DIY store. He’d get this sorted in a couple of days.”
“Would he?”
“Yes,” said Maggie. “And it wouldn’t be too expensive. But it’s up to you. Do you want me to get him to call?”
Flora nodded. “I can’t depend on Pat,” she said. “And I need it to be tidy before I can work. It’s impossible now.”
“Do you get bored here all day on your own?” asked Maggie. “Especially when you can’t write.”
“Not really. Two mornings I give writing classes. I do an afternoon show on the local radio on Fridays. I do some script writing for the soap they do on it too. And I do a weekly piece for a magazine. That brings in a regular income.”
“Don’t you earn money from the books?”
“Not as much as you’d think,” said Flora. “But one day, perhaps!”
“It sounds like a great life all the same,” said Maggie.
“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” said Flora.
Maggie sighed. “Well, it’s better than mine.”
“Why?”
“In the mornings I clean up. Then I do interviews. I go home and do some more house-work. Then I do interviews. Then I go home and cook for the family. And they don’t bloody well appreciate it.”
Flora smiled at her. “I’m sure they do.”
“It’s a boring life,” said Maggie. “Yours is interesting. And in your books everyone has an interesting life. None of them has a crummy job with the CSO.”
“I might give one of them a job there.” Flora looked thoughtful. “One of them needs a part-time job. This might be just the thing.”
“Not really,” Maggie said.
“Why not?” asked Flora. “You’ll have to tell me about it, Maggie. Give me lots of info. So that I can write about it properly.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Of course I am,” said Flora. “It’s ideal.” She grinned at Maggie. “Why don’t we fix a time? You can call back when you’re not busy. And we can go through it all. You can tell me what you do every day.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” said Flora. “And then you’ll be in the book, Maggie!”
Maggie smiled. She liked that idea. Nobody else she knew was a character in a book. She agreed to come back in two days. She said goodbye to Flora and walked down the street.
“Hi, Maggie!”
She turned around. Chris Casey was standing on the other side of the road. She blushed.
“How are you?” he called.
“I’m OK.” She stood still.
He crossed the road.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” He smiled at her.
“And the kids?”
“They’re fine too. They had plenty to eat and drink and it was good to have them stay with me. It felt like they were mine again.”
“That’s good,” she said.
They were silent.
“I enjoyed the other day,” said Maggie. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad,” said Chris.
They were silent again.
“I don’t think we should do it again,” she said.
“Probably not,” said Chris.
“It’s just –”
“It’s OK, Maggie,” said Chris. “I understand.” He smiled. “It was just a day of fun. That’s all.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “That’s all.”
“Maggie?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry,” said Chris. “I’m not going to mess with your life.
Maggie sighed. “I feel guilty about the day of fun!”
“Probably because you think you should have been with your husband. Like I should have been with June. But I left it too late, Maggie. Don’t make the same mistake! You have a family still. And I think they love you. And you love them. You’re lucky, Maggie.”
She smiled at him. “I’ll try to remember that.”
He smiled too. “I enjoyed myself. I should get out more. You’ve made me see that. I just have to do it in future.”
“Yes,” said Maggie.
“I’ve got to go,” said Chris. “I’ll see you, Maggie.”
“See you, Chris.”
Am I lucky? wondered Maggie, as she sat on the bus. Is Chris right? Does Dan still love me? Even after twenty-two years?
Chapter Ten
The house was quiet. Maggie sat down at the table and backed up her CSO disks. When she’d finished, she looked around the kitchen. Tom had decorated it last year. It was pale green. He’d put up new presses for her too. In pine. With green handles. He’d do a good job for Flora. She knew he would.
She zipped the computer back in its bag. Then she went upstairs. She opened the door to Diana’s room. By Diana’s standards, it was tidy. At least all her dirty clothes were in the basket. Not on the floor like usual. And her clean clothes were in drawers. Or hanging up.
She looked at her watch. Time to start the tea. She opened the freezer and took out some chops.
Diana walked in just as she’d finished defrosting them.
“Hi,” she said. “How are things?”
“OK,” said Maggie.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Do you think I’d be any good at fashion design?”
“Fashion design?” Maggie looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Designing clothes,” said Diana.
“You know enough about them,” said Maggie.
“I know that!” Diana grinned. “And I wasn’t bad at making them. But I lost interest. It’s just that I think I might be getting interested again. What if I went to design college though?”
“Would you get enough points in your exams?” asked Maggie.
“Miss Murphy thinks so,” said Diana. “She’s encouraging me.”
“Well, so will I,” said Maggie. “And I’m sure you’d be great at it.”
“Thanks.” Diana kissed her. “Will you help me with my revision later?”
“We’ll see,” said Maggie.
“Ah, go on,” said Diana. “If it means I get a decent job.”
Maggie laughed. “I suppose so.”
“Thanks,” said Diana again. “Do you want me to peel a few spuds?”
The kitchen door banged open. Tom came in.
“How was your day?” he asked.
Maggie stared at him in surprise. “What?”
“Your day?” askedTom.“How was it?”
“Fine,” she said. “It was fine.”
He sniffed the air. “Chops for tea?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said.
He filled the kettle and plugged it in. Then he sat down at the table and opened the newspaper.
Dan came in five minutes later.
Maggie's Story Page 4
