‘Well that’s because she’s busy with her new man-friend.’ Moira registered the look of surprise on Bronagh’s face with satisfaction. It was validation Mammy was indeed being secretive. ‘She’s not mentioned him to you either, then? I’m not surprised, she’s been very cagey about the whole thing. Although, she mentioned organising a lunch so Rosi, Aisling and myself can meet him and his daughters, which I’m taking to mean she’s serious about him. It makes me feel weird, Bronagh, to think of Mammy with anyone other than Daddy.’ Moira shuddered.
Bronagh had been sharper than she’d normally be with the youngest of the O’Mara girls but her tongue had taken on a life of its own. ‘Now listen to me, Moira O’Mara. You’re not to be raining on your mammy’s parade. Sure, you and your sisters are grown women with lives of your own and she’s entitled to some happiness. It doesn’t mean she loved your daddy any less if she steps out with someone new.’
Moira had been a little taken aback. She’d expected custard creams and a sympathetic ear not getting the head eaten off her. She’d tottered out the door in the heeled booties with a wounded air.
Bronagh had been banging about ever since and not even the half packet of custard creams she was chomping her way through was helping matters. She was happy Maureen had someone she was sweet on. It had been her shoulder that had been leaned on by her old employer and good friend after Brian’s death. It had nearly crushed her but she’d gritted her teeth and gotten on with things because that’s what you did. She was still a woman in the prime of her life so, why shouldn’t she have a second chance at happiness? She didn’t begrudge her it at all but what had her upset was knowing she’d never even gotten her first chance at happiness and Moira’s words this morning had brought back all those old feelings of resentment that did her no good whatsoever. Normally she kept a tight lid on them but they’d pushed their way out and she couldn’t seem to shove them back in their box. There was nobody to blame for the way things had worked out other than herself. She’d made her choices and sure she had a good life. It was only it had felt back then as if she’d had no choice. None at all.
Chapter 8
1970
‘Here we go, Mam.’ Bronagh put a cup of tea down on the tray table beside her mother. Myrna Hanrahan was sitting in the mustard coloured armchair with its white crocheted antimacassars protecting the fabric beneath its fat velveteen arms. Her sparrow-like frame was dwarfed by the plump cushions and she had a woollen patchwork blanket thrown across her knees. She was dressed and her dark hair which had more than a dash of silver running through it was curling prettily around her cheeks, the way it did when it had been freshly washed. These were good signs insomuch that she must have gone out despite being so poorly, hopefully to see their family doctor. Her green blouse was buttoned right to the top the bow done up and Bronagh could see the hem of her skirt in a paler shade of green peeking out from beneath the blanket. She had tights on and her feet were in her sheepskin-lined slippers, even though the sun was shining outside.
The chair had been Dad’s favourite when he was alive. Sometimes Bronagh imagined she could see him sitting there with his paper held open, puffing on his pipe. It was a glimpse of happier memories that were beginning to fade. If she leaned in close though, she could still catch a whiff of his Condor ready rubbed tobacco. The scent of old barber shops and burnt toast that had curled from his pipe was that of her dad. Her mam had commandeered his chair of late because it was the softest one in the house. She said it didn’t hurt her bones like the others with their springy cushions. Bronagh struggled to understand what she meant by her bones hurting but the fact her mam’s face was pale and drawn with lines of pain etched around her eyes was plain for anyone to see.
Hilary, Bronagh’s elder and only sibling had made her promise she’d go and see Doctor Burke today. It was high time she got to the bottom of why she’d been having these spells where her body ached all over and she didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. It had all begun with a nasty chill she’d picked up which she’d not been able to shake and Bronagh had chewed her fingernails down worrying about the dizziness her mam was suffering along with all her other symptoms. She was terrified she’d collapse and bang her head while she was at work. It wasn’t like any chill Bronagh had ever had.
Bronagh had to enlist Hilary’s help in convincing Mam to go the doctor that first time too, no easy task given Myrna was a woman who didn’t believe in bothering important people like Doctor Burke over the likes of aches and pains. She needed to rest that was all, she’d croak each time Bronagh broached the topic of her going, but she’d listened to Hilary. As it happened Doctor Burke had said more or less the same thing. Her illness was viral so there was no need for antibiotics and with an ‘I told you so’ Myrna had taken to her bed.
She’d seemed to get better to Bronagh’s relief but then a month later she’d gone to the shops and returned home completely exhausted. The butchers and corner shop were only at the end of the road. No more than a ten minute walk each way including stopping to chat to the neighbours out and about
