Family was family though, you couldn’t pick them, she mused, not for the first time as she removed the cardboard packaging and punched a couple of holes in the seal of the container before sliding it into the warming oven. The birthday card incident wasn’t the worst thing Hilary had ever done, Bronagh thought, closing the oven door.
1971
Summer was drawing to a close and Bronagh had been stepping out with Kevin for months now. She was a different woman to the one who’d caught his eye when he’d come to fix the broken door lock at O’Mara’s insomuch as she brimmed with the confidence being part of a pair brought with it. Although some would say hers and Kevin’s relationship was more of a triangle, Bronagh was oblivious. Others, more kindly inclined, had noticed and commented as to how well she was looking. It wasn’t only in the physical sense because she laughed more, the sort of laughter where you threw back your head and laughed until your stomach hurt. Kevin had brought rainbow hues into a life that had been a little beige and she loved him, he loved her too, and Myrna loved him as she would a son.
Bronagh and Kevin had settled into an easy pattern over the last months with him being understanding over their time needing to be shared with her mam. He treated her mam like a queen and she loved him all the more for it. He never complained either that she wouldn’t stay overnight at the flat, rising from the bed with the springs that dug into her back and leaving his bedsit to go home each and every time.
On Wednesdays he came for dinner straight from whatever job he’d been on and then he and Bronagh would traipse off for a drink at the local pub, The Four Horses—one of the few that didn’t have a problem with a woman frequenting it. Ireland was backward in so many respects she’d think on occasion, but it was home. She’d sip her Babycham and Kevin his pint while they held hands under the table, listening to the live music played on a Wednesday. Friday nights they stayed in with Kevin happy to pass around the bag of sweets he brought to share as they sat watching The Late Late Show. Myrna thought the sun rose and set with Kevin.
It was only fair, given they’d been together a while now and had reached a stage in their relationship where it was hard to remember what things had been like before they’d met, Kevin should want her to meet his family. They’d heard all about her and his mam was insistent they come up for a weekend. The family wanted to meet this girl who’d turned their Kev’s head. Weekends away were not something Bronagh had entertained since her mam got sick because she didn’t like the thought of her home on her own. When she was well she worried she’d be lonely and when she was ill she worried about her toppling over if she were to have one of her dizzy spells. The thought of her hitting her head as she fell, or lying on the ground unable to get up was unbearable. She couldn’t very well ask if she could invite her mam to Donegal either. Sure, what sort of impression would that make? She imagined Kevin greeting his mam with, ‘This is Bronagh, oh, and her mam, Myrna’s come too to see what the craic’s like.’
So, when he’d first broached the subject of two nights away with her, she’d skirted around the subject of a weekend in Donegal, giving him a vague, sometime soon, reply. The second time he’d brought it up they’d been lying in his bed in a tangle of sheets with Bronagh desperately trying to ignore the spring poking in her side because she didn’t want to move and break the spell around them. As he asked her if she’d give him a date for when they could go because his mam was hounding him, she’d known it wasn’t fair not to give him a definitive answer. He was always so considerate of her and mam’s situation.
She’d kissed him and told him she’d sort something out for her mam and they’d put plans in place. They’d organised to head up to Donegal in three weeks which gave his mam plenty of notice to have her cottage gleaming and Bronagh time to organise for her mam to have a break in Tramore. It was high time Hilary had her to stay.
The next evening she’d waited until Mam had gone to bed to call her sister. She didn’t want her to overhear her conversation and feel as if Bronagh was trying to fob her off.
‘Hilary, how’re things?’ she asked as the phone was answered on the fourth ring.
‘Bronagh, this is late for you to be calling.’
‘Were you in bed?’
‘No, but we’ve had our supper.’
Bronagh rolled her eyes. Hilary and George were supper people. Every evening, once Declan and Erin were in bed, she’d make a plate of sandwiches and pour them both a gin and tonic. She thought it made them terribly sophisticated. Bronagh hoped they got indigestion from their corned beef sandwiches or whatever they were after eating.
‘Is Mam alright?’ Hilary inquired.
‘She’s alright, yes. How’re you all?’
‘Busy,’ Hilary sighed, ‘Life’s busy. The children have me run off my feet. Are you still with that locksmith chap from Donnybrook?’
Bronagh’s hackles rose. ‘Kevin’s his name and he’s from Donegal not Donnybrook.’ She managed to keep her tone neutral, determined not to bite. She had to keep Hilary on side while she broached the subject of their mam coming to stay with her for a weekend. ‘Yes, I am. Actually, that’s why I’m ringing, Hilary. He’s asked me to go up north
