‘Goodnight, Aunty Nono, Uncle Malachy, see you tomorrow.’
Malachy grunted his goodbye from where he was sitting on a stool pricing a late delivery of tinned fruit.
‘Have a good evening, Emer,’ Noreen called, smiling back at her niece, pleased to note the colour was beginning to return to her cheeks now she was away from the city with all its pollution and grime. Fresh air was a tonic for most things, a broken heart included, she thought as the door banged shut behind their newest employee.
She began to tally up the day’s takings counting silently as she did the arithmetic that had become second nature to her over the years. For the second time that month though it didn’t add up. She prided herself on being accurate when it came to her dealings with their customers and Emer, well, Emer was a qualified bookkeeper. She knew her figures right enough. She frowned and looked down the aisle at Malachy. He needed reading glasses but refused to admit this was the case. Was he after giving out too much change? She’d have to broach the topic carefully with him, he could be a sensitive soul. She made her mind up to talk to him and nudging the till shut with her hip she put the coins and notes in the bag. They kept their money bag in the sideboard drawer with Malachy taking the week’s earnings to the bank each Friday. ‘I’ll go and put the dinner on,’ she called over to her husband. He was a pussycat on a full stomach.
Three months later...
‘WHERE’S OUR EMER?’ Rosamunde asked Noreen one afternoon as she picked up a tin of baked beans and put them in her basket. ‘They’ll go nicely with our sausages tonight.’ She put another tin in for good measure. The boys had hollow legs on them these days and she debated a third tin but decided no, they’d have to fill their boots with slices of bread on the side.
‘It’s Friday, she’s gone into town to do the banking.’
‘It was very good of Malachy to teach her to drive. Terry wouldn’t have had the patience.’
‘He didn’t mind. She picked it up easily by all accounts and Malachy wanted to give her a sense of responsibility by getting her to do the banking and collect the odd order. She’s qualified in bookkeeping and the like so it must bore her silly stacking shelves and serving customers all day.’
‘She’s seems happy enough to me. It’s working out well then? Having Emer here.’
‘It is.’ Noreen had to admit it was, they’d be lost without her now. ‘I was worried we mightn’t find enough for her to do but business is brisk. People always need their milk and bread and other essentials. Her being here means Malachy and I can take things a little easier, too.’ They were enjoying the opportunity Emer’s presence afforded them to take more breaks, she’d even found Malachy upstairs with his feet up and the paper spread out in front of him the other day! It wasn’t only Malachy who was making the most of not being needed on the shop floor continuously. She’d slipped away and had her hair set the other day and found time for a cup of tea with her old friend, Kathleen, at Alma’s. Mind you, she’d nearly broken a tooth on her currant bun, rock hard so they were. She’d told Alma in no uncertain terms, if she wanted to keep her customers, she needed to up her game.
Rosamunde hesitated in that way of hers which told Noreen she had something weighing on her chest.
‘Come on then, Rosamunde, I can see you’ve not called in for the baked beans alone. Out with it.’
Her younger sister looked shifty as she dug deep for the words she was after. She cleared her throat. ‘I, erm, I was wondering what you’re paying Emer, that’s all.’
‘The going rate, why?’ Noreen was put out by Rosamunde implying they were making the most of their niece being family and employing her on slave wages.
‘Oh, don’t get snippy, Noreen. I know you’re more than fair with her. But she’s forever coming home with new things that to my mind should be beyond her means.’
Noreen smoothed her ruffled feathers before speaking. ‘Sure, she’s young, isn’t she? The young are apt to be spendthrifts.’ It wasn’t necessarily true. She hadn’t been, she’d been a diligent saver from the moment she’d picked up her first brown envelope from the wages clerk at the fish factory but then she’d had something to save for, a shared dream with Malachy. It was neither here nor there, times were different now and Emer was entitled to enjoy herself. She worked hard and she’d obviously been through a lot with that fickle Phelan fellow in Dublin. Not that she’d ever spoken about it. She’d made it clear when Noreen had tried to broach the subject to find out what had gone wrong, it was a topic she didn’t wish to talk about. Fair enough, Noreen had thought. Some things were too painful to speak of and so she’d left it, figuring Emer was healing her heart in her own way.
‘Hmm,’ Rosamunde mumbled, but didn’t look satisfied. ‘She’s more clothes than she
