By the time she’d returned, having made promises of sealing holes up she had no intention of keeping, reception was quiet once more and her tea was stone cold. Bronagh who had indeed been eyeing her ginger snap had thought better of helping herself and instead had gotten up to waft the air freshener about.
‘That Ruiraidh fellow smelled of horses,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t fancy being shut in a bus with him for hours on end.’
Maureen breathed in the Arpège fragranced freshener she’d bought for the guesthouse, pleased it was being used.
‘It reminds me of you, this does, Maureen. Whenever Aisling’s after spraying it about the place I’m always looking over my shoulder expecting to see you there.’ She put the cap back on the canister and sat down. Maureen perched on the edge of the fax table and both women settled in for a good chat.
‘So, what’s his name and what’s he like this fella of yours, and is he a toy boy?’ Bronagh watched as Maureen’s face seemed to come alive as she described him.
‘He’s five years older than me. His name’s Donal, Donal McCarthy and he’s a widower.’ She gave Bronagh the same spiel she’d given Moira, adding. ‘And he’s kind and generous. He makes me laugh and when I’m around him I feel young again.’
Bronagh felt wistful stirrings. ‘Is he a silver fox then?’
‘No, I’d say more a silver bear.’ She polished off her ginger biscuit deciding she could trust Bronagh and besides, she wanted to confide in someone who would be excited for her not like the old bionic hip of Howth, Rosemary Farrell. ‘He’s a dead ringer for Kenny Rogers and he sings in a Kenny Rogers Tribute band.’
‘I love Coward of the County.’ Bronagh was animated as she hummed the old tune. ‘Does he wear the white suit with the waistcoat. A natty dresser is Kenny.’
‘He does and Donal does a very good rendition of Coward of the County. Although, I prefer The Gambler myself. Bronagh, don’t be breathing a word about his hobby to Moira, will you? She’s been making enough wisecracks as it is. I’d rather she met him without any preconceptions.’
‘Fair play to you, but these things have a way of getting out, Maureen. It won’t be thanks to me though and I’m happy for you,’ Bronagh said, and she meant it.
Maureen leaned over and patted the receptionist’s hand. ‘You’re the first person to say that to me. Thank you, Bronagh, it means a lot to me.’
‘Are the girls taking a bit of getting used to the idea then or is it just one in particular?’
‘Moira?’
Bronagh nodded.
‘She was very close to her daddy being the baby of the family and all.’
‘Ah, don’t be making excuses for her. They all were, Maureen, and as I said to Moira the other day, just because your mammy’s met someone who’s making her happy doesn’t mean she’s stopped loving your daddy. It doesn’t diminish what they had.’
Maureen’s eyes burned with threatened tears and she sniffed in an effort to keep them at bay, blinking rapidly. ‘Oh, Bronagh, I’m frightened they’re all going to hate each other on sight.’
‘Who?’
‘His daughters, Louise and Anna, and my three. Donal’s wanting to organise a lunch for us all to meet when Aisling’s back and Roisin’s next over. He says he feels like we’re sneaking around the place and he’s too long in the tooth for that.’
‘That sounds a very sensible thing to do and I think you’re worrying over nothing. Once the girls have seen for themselves, Donal’s a nice man with good intentions toward their mammy, they’ll be grand. It’s the unknown you see. They’ve vivid imaginations your three, they’ll be picturing all sorts.’
Maureen thought about yer busking one who whistled through the gap where his front teeth used to be.
‘What does Patrick have to say?’
‘I haven’t spoken to Patrick since he went to America. That’s another thing, Bronagh. I did something that’s weighing heavily on me.’
Bronagh waited, not wanting to interrupt Maureen’s flow.
‘I loaned him some money.’
‘A lot of money?’
Maureen nodded. ‘He wanted it for a venture he said was a sure thing. He’s promised to pay it back before the year’s out. It’s just—'
‘It’s not sitting well with you.’
‘No, it’s not. I feel as though I’ve the indigestion whenever I think about it.’
‘You haven’t told the girls?’
‘No, they’d be on the telephone giving out to him.’
Bronagh shook her head. She was fond of Patrick, having known him since he was a young boy but he had a streak in him that one. He was out for himself and it wasn’t right putting the squeeze on his mammy for cash. ‘He’s your son, Maureen. You’ll have to trust him.’
Maureen pursed her lips. ‘I do trust him, it’s just he’s not very reliable. You’re a good woman, Bronagh, so you are, listening to my moans.’ She almost wished she’d let Bronagh have her other biscuit now. It would have been the good Christian thing to do. ‘And how’s your mam doing?’
‘She’s having a good spell at the moment, been scrapbooking like a demon so she has. She’s off down to Tramore in two weeks and counting down the days. I’ll tell her you were asking after her.’
‘Be sure to. It’s a terrible thing that ME and her struck down with it so young.’
‘It is and there’s those a lot younger than she was suffering with it. I’ve seen a young woman barely out of college at the support meetings she goes to from time to time.’ It had taken years of, ‘It’s in her head’ for a diagnosis as to what ailed her mam to finally be given and when it had come it had still been vague and inconclusive because the doctors knew so little about the disease but at least Myrna had felt validated.
‘Does your neighbour still look in on her during the day when you’re here?’
‘Sara? Yes, she’s very good to her. She pops over most days and makes her
