‘The Arnotts sales, I hope,’ Linda sniffed.
‘Of course.’ Bronagh hadn’t but they didn’t need to know that.
‘Did you buy the top and the trousers separately because you’ve matched the colour ever so well?’ Linda gave her a slow and approving head-to-toe appraisal over the top of her glasses.
‘No. They were sold together as an outfit.’ She’d been pleased with her find, having decided the moment she saw it on the rack it was perfect for a date at Captain America’s. She loved the restaurant with its casual but buzzy atmosphere that made you feel you were where it was at. She’d been pleased when Kevin had suggested it. As she thought of how she’d be seeing him again in under an hour, her heart skipped a beat and she hoped she didn’t have a silly telltale smile on her face like the one she’d been wearing all week since he’d asked her out. Maureen had been trying to coax out of her what it was had her smiling away like the cat who got the cream all week but she hadn’t said a word. She didn’t want to tell anyone she was going on a proper date tonight for fear it would jinx things.
‘Are you off somewhere special?’ Myrna looked hopeful and it tugged at Bronagh. She knew her mam struggled with being dependant on her daughter more and more as her health continued to deteriorate. Her good spells were briefer and the bad spells longer and it all a medical mystery. She was always urging Bronagh to get out and about, meet up with friends. Telling her she was too young to be sitting in with her old mam. She’d insist she enjoyed her own company and sure, didn’t she have her crafts to keep her busy? That was true enough. She was currently knitting hats for Hilary’s children, when her hands would do what she wanted them to do and she could summon the energy to make the needles clack.
Bronagh would respond by asking her who it was cuddled her when she was small and frightened by the shadows on her bedroom floor? Who’d cleaned up after her when she’d been sick? Who dried her tears and kissed her grazes making them better? Who was it had cooked for her night after night? Who’d sat and listened to her stories when she got home from school of an afternoon? Who sewed her dresses? The list went on and on and she’d always finish by telling her mam it was a privilege to share her meals with the woman who’d done all of that for her.
‘BRONAGH?’ MYRNA ASKED, seeing the faraway expression on her daughter’s face.
‘Captain America’s, Mam.’ She didn’t want to say who she was meeting, not in front of Linda because she’d be in for a grilling if she mentioned having been asked out by a fella. She liked Linda; she was loyal, especially when it came to her friendship with Mam but she was also a gossip and the news Bronagh may be courting would be considered the juiciest of information.
Linda sniffed. ‘My Lizzie said they’re after charging thirty-eight pence for a bun burger. Daylight robbery in my opinion. And why we need to be pretending we’re in an American diner when we’re Irish I don’t know.’
Bronagh smiled. She didn’t think Linda would understand it wasn’t about the bun burger or what it cost. It wasn’t about pretending to be Americans either. It was the experience. The sense of being somewhere different as the energy of the place washed over you, the humming conversations, shouts of laughter, clinking glasses and strumming guitar, they all made her forget her responsibilities as she let her hair down and enjoyed the freedom of being young and out on the town. Not to mention their deep-dish apple pie being well worth a trip into the city.
‘I’m going to head on now. I don’t want to miss my bus.’
‘Bronagh, you didn’t tell me who you’re meeting,’ Myrna called after her.
‘A friend, Mam,’ Bronagh called back ambiguously as she opened the front door, eager to be off before any more questions came her way.
She heard Linda’s voice as she made to close the door behind her, ‘It’s a shame isn’t it, Myrna? Your Bronagh not having met anyone. How’s Hilary getting on?’ Her tread was heavy as walked to the bus stop. It was unnerving to know she was thought of as a spinster and she wasn’t even twenty-five yet. She’d been tempted to poke her head back in the door and shout to Linda Carlisle that she was off to meet a very eligible young fella so stick that on your brack and eat it! By the time she clambered aboard the bus and paid her fare, she’d shaken off the remark because nothing was going to spoil her evening.
The bus was nearly full but Bronagh managed to find a seat near the back by the window, her Rive Gauche ensuring she had a seat to herself. The bus driver had been very bold, giving her a wink when she boarded, but she decided it was confirmation she’d chosen well with the lilac trouser suit. She sat with her bag perched on her lap as the double-decker rumbled its way into the city. The street lights blinked on and the dull dusk light faded. She checked her hair in
