Noreen handed the correct change to Emer, observing her press it into Mrs Darby’s gloved hand. She’d half thought her niece might curtsey as she received a nod by way of thank you. Then, leaving nothing but her expensive scent in her wake, Mrs Darby was gone. They all stood in reverent silence for a good few minutes until Emer, who’d resumed her position at the window, announced the car had slipped away from the main street. Their shoulders relaxed and business resumed as normal. Maisie decided she deserved a digestive with her tea and she’d push the boat out and buy a packet of the chocolate covered biscuits. It wasn’t every day there was this much excitement in Claredoncally.
Noreen had been driven demented all afternoon listening to Emer drone on and on about what perfume Mrs Darby had been wearing. Did she think it was Dior or Guerlain? It was definitely French, her niece informed her. ‘Did you see her coat, Aunty Nono?’ It wasn’t as if she could have missed it, Noreen thought, as Emer gushed further. ‘I bet you it was from Paris. I heard she goes to the fashion shows there and buys her clothes direct from the designers. That’s why she looks like a film star.’ Her eyes were alight and her chin was resting on her cupped hands. She was leaning on the counter in a manner that would have Malachy telling her to stand up straight because the staff at Grady’s Convenience Store didn’t slouch, if he were to spot her. Noreen didn’t ask how her niece knew all this about Mrs Darby’s wardrobe but was guessing it was fodder for village gossip. She’d been unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes as Emer pondered aloud as to what the interior of Briar House was like.
‘Sure, Emer,’ she’d said. ‘It’s only a house. We’ve all got to live somewhere and the bigger the house the more cleaning there is to be done.’
Emer was undeterred. ‘I bet it’s very grand with priceless art and antiques everywhere. Imagine having someone to cook for you and someone to clean for you, Aunty Nono. Imagine if all you had to do was click your fingers and someone would come running.’
‘I wouldn’t like it,’ Noreen stated, her niece’s enthusiasm for the Darbys’ ostentatious lifestyle was making her cringe. She paused in her clicking of the price gun, leaving the remaining jars of coffee she’d been unpacking in the box for a moment. ‘No, it wouldn’t be for me to have a stranger living in my home privy to all our private business. And sure, why does anyone need more rooms than they can ever use?’
But Emer hadn’t wanted to hear about practical things; she wanted to daydream about impractical things such as big houses full of servants, French perfume, and coats the latest fashion in Paris.
‘There’s no point getting ideas of grandeur, Emer. It only makes you hanker for things you can’t have and there’s no happiness to be found in doing so,’ Noreen had said, trying to snap her niece out of it. Her words were wise but still, she’d thought, there was no harm in the girl having a smart new coat and while Roches Stores might not be the Paris catwalk, she was sure she’d find a style similar to Mrs Darby’s collared, wrap coat. Royal blue would look well on Emer, and she and Malachy would be lost without her these days. It would be nice to acknowledge how indispensable they found her with a thank you gift. The bottom line though, Noreen knew, was she wanted to see her face light up when she pulled the coat from the bag and it was for this reason, she was currently listening in on a most interesting tale the woman in front of her was after telling her friend as she waited for Roches to open their doors.
She was about to find out what had happened to Bridie at the dance last Friday night when she’d felt a tap on her shoulder. She swung around to see a face she recognised but couldn’t quite place. The girl, around Emer’s age, registered her confusion and explained. ‘Hello, Mrs Grady, I’m Angela. We met a while ago when I came home with Emer for a weekend. She brought me by your shop to say hello. Emer and I shared a room in Dublin.’
Ah yes, the penny dropped, she’d been pleased to meet the girl and have a peek through the window into what Emer’s life in Dublin was like. ‘Angela, yes of course. It’s lovely to see you again. How’re you?’
‘I’m grand, thanks.’
‘Are you working here in town these days?’ she asked, noting the girl’s smart blouse and skirt. She had a name badge pinned to her chest and her hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail.
‘I am, yes. I’ve a job at the Bank of Ireland. I transferred from Dublin not long after Emer left.’ Her expression closed a little. ‘Things were a little awkward after everything that happened. I’m pleased I ran into you because I’ve wondered how she’s doing?’
Noreen was puzzled, the girl was being very cryptic. ‘Have you not been in touch with her yourself then?’ Perhaps the pair had had a falling out. It couldn’t have been easy sharing a poky bedroom. You’d be forever stepping on one another’s toes.
Angela wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘No, I haven’t.’
Something had definitely gone on, Noreen thought, but it wasn’t any of her business. ‘Well, I for one think leaving Dublin and having a fresh start has been the best thing for her. She’s working for me and Mr Grady at the shop now and living back with her mammy and da for the time being.’
Angela looked startled by this news.
Noreen couldn’t help herself. ‘Sure, why don’t you phone her. You two were thick as thieves weren’t you.’
Angela blanched at Noreen’s terminology and she flapped her hand dismissively, her manner telling Noreen
