Poor Pooh had enough issues as it was, without her sitting there half the day teasing him. She went back inside squeezing past the poodle who’d been observing the goings on. What to do with him? It was tempting to take him with her and tie him up outside the entrance to the church hall where he could see what was going on. He loved the line dancing ladies, but again the word ‘boundaries’ sprang to mind. He’d marked his card with some of them, even though he’d stopped all that sniffing where he shouldn’t business since he’d had his little procedure. Rosemary Farrell thought he was the bees knees these days and spoiled him with doggy treats every time she called around. That was going to have to stop if she was going to make headway with the positive reinforcement yoke. ‘Will you be a good dog and not howl and carry on while we’re trying to do our dancing?’
Pooh panted and gave her a plaintive look.
‘Right then, come on I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, so.’
Maureen was eager to get down there a few minutes early because Rosemary was always early to everything. She was bursting to see her face when she told her she was going to be in a band. She’d be pea green so she would.
Chapter 5
Maureen trotted along Main Street with Pooh panting at her side making sure she had a firm hold of his leash as they approached Colliers. The butchers, with its window display of tantalising cuts, was his favourite shop in all of Howth. They made it past without incident and he even chose to do his business on the grassy patch beside the public library instead of the pavement which was a first. Sure, we all had to go when we had to go, she thought cheerily, still full of the joys of the night before as she scooped his doings up into one of the bags, she kept in her coat pocket. She popped it in the rubbish bin by the library entrance. She carried more paraphernalia with her for Pooh than she ever had for her babies she mused, giving him a treat before carrying on up the road to where the church loomed.
She could already see several cars parked outside the church and a handful of women milling about on the pavement. She wondered if Rosemary was amongst them. Who’d have thought it? She, Maureen O’Mara, would be singing in a band at her time of life. She was living, breathing proof it was never too late to grab hold of your dream. Actually, her dream had been to play the tambourine on stage, you know like yer Stevie wan from Fleetwood Mac. Perhaps she could do both. Perhaps, she thought, her pace quickening at the idea, she should ring the local paper and tell them. She could be the poster girl for women of a certain age living their best life. No, she slowed again, she couldn’t do that, not when she’d already decided to hold off on letting this latest news slip to Rosi, Aisling or Moira. The lunch would suffice for now. Sure, they didn’t need to be privy to all the goings on in her life and the three of them would have a grand old time taking the mick.
‘Hello there, Fidelma, Nuala,’ she called out as she approached the two women she knew from golf. They were loitering on the pavement beside Nuala’s car, looking very ill at ease in their denim jeans and boots. ‘First time is it?’
‘It is.’ Nuala spoke up.
‘It’s all in the counting; just do what I do and you’ll be grand. Have you met Pooh?’
‘No.’ Both women took a step back, flattening themselves against the zippy blue Honda they’d just exited.
Maureen was unperturbed. ‘He won’t bite you. He’s only after saying hello.’
‘It’s not biting we’re worried about, Maureen,’ Nuala muttered. ‘Rosemary told us what he was like.’
‘Oh no, that’s all in the past. He’s not bold around the ladies anymore, not since he had the,’ she made a scissor motion with her index and middle fingers.
‘That might work on your Charlie.’ Nuala elbowed Fidelma with a ribald grin.
‘Chance would be a fine thing.’
‘Are you talking about your dog or your husband?’ Maureen asked, not keeping up with the conversation. The sight of Rosemary Farrell limping towards her sidetracked her from the subject of Fidelma’s husband. ‘I’ll see you inside, ladies, and remember, follow my lead in there and you can’t go wrong.’
‘I don’t know how I’ll go today, Maureen. My hip’s awfully stiff,’ Rosemary said, reaching her and bending down to make a fuss of Pooh.
‘See,’ Maureen called after Nuala and Fidelma. ‘He’s as saintly as the Pope, these days.’ She swivelled back to Rosemary. She found it hard to understand how a hip made of titanium or was it, kryptonite? she could never remember, could get stiff but Rosemary was always after complaining it was paining her. Maybe it was the same as when you lost a limb and had that phantom pain where it used to be. ‘Ah well, just do what you can do.’
‘What are you wearing?’ Rosemary looked up, her eyes fixed on Maureen’s trousers.
‘My yoga pants. Rosi put me on to them and, Rosemary, I have to say they are the most comfortable trousers I’ve ever worn. I can do all sorts in them, look,’ she lunged forward and back up.
‘Well, I wouldn’t be able to do
