If it was up to Roisin, she’d be putting a couple of bowls of crisps and peanuts about the place and softening their guests up with the cheapest cask wine from the off licence. Sure, she’d seen a few empty bottles of good red wine waiting to go out with Mammy’s rubbish. Why couldn’t they pour the vinegar casky stuff into those and save themselves a packet, no one would be any wiser? She envisaged her mammy’s line dancing ladies all smacking their lips over the delicious wine Maureen was after serving and it made her smile.
It was a good idea, she thought, warming to it the more she turned it over in her mind. She decided there was no harm in running it by Mammy.
‘Roisin O’Mara you could peel an orange in your pocket you could,’ Maureen replied upon hearing it. However, she gave Rosi a ‘we’re partners in crime’ wink as, with their matching yoga pant bottoms, they made their way down the wine aisle and she picked up enough casks of cheap red, plonk to have the Irish hurling team singing Danny Boy and doing a jig.
Chapter 22
Bronagh had not long got back from posting this week’s letter to Leonard. She’d written to tell him she hadn’t been quite so enamoured by the Genoise cake she’d partaken of last night. That wasn’t to say it hadn’t been very nice, because it was, but it had lacked that something extra the carrot cake had had. Probably the cream cheese icing she’d surmised in her letter. Now, she was busying herself trying to find the Marks & Spencer’s frozen chicken pasta dinner for two in the freezer. She knew it was in there somewhere because she’d put it away for nights like this when she didn’t feel like cooking. She was fidgety and wanted a quick tea, not wanting to bother with thinking about what she and her mam could have to eat. A quick tea was in order and then she’d be off to the party in Howth. She was looking forward to this evening. There was a good film on the tele tonight so Mam would be alright and Hilary usually rang for a chat, too.
There it was, she thought, victorious as she pulled the chicken meal from the freezer and put it on the bench. She switched the oven on to preheat as per the instructions, preferring to do it in the oven, as she liked the way the cheesy sauce crisped around the edges when it was baked. The microwave left it soggy and lacklustre she always thought. As she waited for it to heat, her mind flitted to Hilary.
It had been ages since Mam had been down to Tramore and Hilary hardly ever ventured back to Dublin, proclaiming it a dirty, overcrowded city, full of foreigners these days. It would have been nice for their mam to see more of the grandchildren, too. Children was a loose term these days. Declan and Erin both towered over their little nan and were pushing thirty. They’d both stayed on in Tramore with Erin engaged to a fellow who worked for her dad’s solicitor’s firm. She worked as a real estate agent while Declan had a good job in the AIB Bank. He enjoyed playing the lad and was showing no signs of settling down. Whenever Bronagh had broached the subject of one or both them coming to see their nan for a weekend, Hilary would tut and say they led busy lives and sure, where would they sleep. Hilary managed to say this in such a way she made Bronagh feel as if she did nothing but sit around on her arse all day and was not at all inclined to offer to give up her bedroom for one of her sister’s offspring.
It was a shame both her niece and nephew had been tarred by their mother’s brush. Still, she could hardly have expected them to turn out differently. You were a product of your upbringing. Bronagh backtracked on that particular thought because she’d had the same upbringing as Hilary and they were polar opposites. The thought of Erin and Declan not being bothered to pick up the phone to see how their nan was getting on from time to time rankled. All the times her mam had sent money for their birthdays or as a treat to go and do something nice with, not once had they called or written a note to say thank you. How she’d have loved to have heard what the money she could ill afford had been used for. It would have brightened her day no end to hear tales of a new dress or an outing to see a film. This was ignorant behaviour in Bronagh’s opinion and if they’d been her children, she’d have stood over them and made them telephone their nan. She’d learned long ago not to put voice to these opinions because it only upset her mam, and sure, what was the point in that? Besides, Mam simply said she didn’t send it wanting anything in return from them. She wanted them to know she was thinking about them was all.
Bronagh frowned as she remembered an occasion when Mam had decided, once the children began working, perhaps it was time to stop sending them spends and so she’d posted Erin’s birthday card with nothing inside but good wishes. Hilary had rung the moment it had arrived with her nose out of joint because Erin had been most disappointed when she opened her card to find the usual ten pounds wasn’t there. Bronagh had wanted
