‘I thought the same.’ Moira tossed the soggy paper in the bin. ‘I couldn’t understand why Mammy needed anyone else. She’s us and plenty of friends to be getting about with but with Donal it’s different.’
‘I need to let Dad move on, don’t I?’
Anna was seeking confirmation and Moira wondered in that instant how she managed such a responsible role at the hospital. She had to be so much stronger than she looked. ‘I think we both need to understand we’re not losing our mam and daddy all over again, because they’ll always be with us, here.’ She put her hand on her heart. ‘But maybe we’re going to gain some new friends. I’m hoping so.’ Her smile was tentative.
Anna blinked at this girl standing uncertainly in front of her. She was extremely pretty and she’d pigeon holed her as an airhead on sight but she was anything but. ‘I’d like that, too.’
She turned then to look in the mirror. ‘We’d better be getting back or they’ll be thinking we’re after having fisticuffs. Jaysus, I look like I’ve been in the ring with one of the Fury’s.’
‘Here,’ Moira opened her bag and retrieved a cotton bud from her cosmetic purse. ‘This’ll do the trick.’
‘Thanks. I can’t wear waterproof mascara, my eyes are too sensitive.’ She set about using the bud to wipe the smudged black streaks from under her eyes and then, satisfied she was as good as she was going to get, said, ‘Come on then. I’m wishing I’d ordered dessert now.’
‘You can share mine,’ Moira said, holding the door open.
Chapter 29
Bronagh had hummed and hawed over wearing her new Mo-pants to church. She was worried she’d be on the receiving end of a disapproving look from Father Kilpatrick for being too casual in her dress. The conundrum was, she was feeling rather bloated and couldn’t face the thought of sitting like an overstuffed garden gnome for the duration of the service. The reason for this state of affairs was because she’d helped clear up what was left of the lovely nibbly finger food on offer at the party last night along with a woman named Joan. Her skirt had been very short given the weather and Bronagh had been pleased to hear she’d bought a pair of Mo-pants herself. They’d be far more appropriate for her to be gadding about in. Comfort was key she’d decided in the end and so had teamed the pants with an oversized teal sweater and matching scarf.
As it happened, there was no such look forthcoming from Father Kilpatrick and she’d had more than one tap on the shoulder to tell her how well she looked. Mam too had enjoyed the choice of hymns today and was still humming now as she finished off her scrapbook project. She was a proper songbird was Mam. She always said, no matter how she was feeling within herself music had the power to lift her soul. She’d have to get her a pair of the Mo-pants too, Bronagh decided. If she’d wear them that was. She wasn’t a trouser woman, she preferred her skirts. She’d think on it.
The phone rang as Bronagh peeled the lid back from a tin of tomato soup. She’d picked up a loaf of fresh bread to go with it for lunch on their way home. She’d lost track of the time she saw, glancing at the wall clock and realising it was midday. Hilary rang every Sunday to speak to Mam at twelve o’clock on the dot and so she put the tin down and went to answer the phone. There was no point in seeing to lunch until Mam had finished her chat.
‘Hello?’ she asked, even though she knew who it was.
‘Bronagh, it’s Hilary. How’s your week been?’
‘Grand.’ She debated telling her sister about the party she’d been to last night but decided not to. From experience she knew Hilary, the queen of one-upmanship, would cut her off mid-flow to tell her about her new dress or coat or whatever. No, she decided, swallowing back the story, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel miffed by her sister not when she was in such a sunny mood. Instead, she fibbed and said, ‘I’ll pass you over to Mam, Hilary. I’ve soup on the stove and it’s about to boil over.
She took the phone in for her mam who put the glue she’d been about to stick to the back of a tiny cardboard flower down on the tray table along with the rest of her materials. She sat up in her chair expectantly and took the telephone from Bronagh. She looked forward to hearing all Hilary’s news each week. Bronagh went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table. A cloud had passed over the sun just as it had her mood, despite her best intentions. Hilary’s voice had brought the past knocking once more.
1971
Bronagh hung her new coat in her wardrobe. She’d bought it in Brown Thomas on her way home from work. The rich, burgundy colour and smart gold buttons had drawn her over to the mannequin displaying it and she’d known it was perfect for her trip to Donegal. She’d tell a while lie if her mam asked where it was from, she’d tell her Arnotts. She was still loyal to her old place of employment even now. Her wardrobe for the weekend in the north was now complete. She’d new trousers and a gorgeous cream sweater too. She was going for a shampoo and set on Friday straight from work which would still give her time to organise the taxi to take her mam to the station.
She hugged herself, barely able to contain her fizzing excitement about the impending break, not just because she was going to meet Kevin’s family but because of the change of scenery. She was so looking forward to
