She heard the door go downstairs followed by muffled voices below her. Kevin was here for his tea. She’d a lovely corned beef simmering in the pot and would serve it with a generous dollop of cabbage and mashed potato. Kevin liked her mash. He’d even gone so far as to tell her it was better than his mam’s which was high praise indeed. Bronagh knew how much he missed her home cooking. She’d told him it was down to her secret ingredient. He’d pressed her but she refused to divulge it because she didn’t want him passing it on to his mam and sisters. The mash was her pièce de résistance as the French would say! Butter, and lots of it, was the key to flavour when it came to tasty cooking but what made her potato side dish stand out was the sprinkle of garlic powder she added. Another nod to the French.
Bronagh ran a brush through her hair and freshened her lipstick in her dressing table mirror before closing her bedroom door and taking to the stairs two at a time. Kevin was in the front room talking to her mam. He turned when she walked in and flashed her a grin which still had the effect of making her knees go weak. She knew a grin was all she’d get too. He was far too polite to kiss her in front of her mam who was sitting forward in her chair waiting for him to tell her about his day.
She smiled back at him and left them to chat as she went to put the potatoes on. She was chopping the cabbage when she felt his arms snake around her waist before he planted a kiss on her cheek.
‘How’re you, gorgeous?’
‘Grand.’
‘What’s for dinner.’
‘Corned beef, mash and cabbage.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that, and will you be making the gravy I like too?’
‘I might be. You’ll have to wait and see,’ she teased, before shaking him off. ‘Now don’t be distracting me or there’ll be no dinner for anyone.’
‘I came in for the sherry bottle.’
‘You know where it is,’ Bronagh said, pointing the knife in her hand to the cupboard where the bottle of sweet sherry was kept. Myrna had taken to enjoying a small tot when Kevin came for his tea. He retrieved it, then helped himself to a can from the fridge. Bronagh always made sure she had a couple in for when he called. He lifted the tab and she heard the phfft of gas being released. He fetched a glass and poured the contents into it, knowing Myrna would disapprove of him drinking straight from the can.
There was laughter around the kitchen table that evening as Kevin told them a tale about a woman who’d gone out to collect the milk still at the gate well after ten that morning, in her dressing gown and slippers, only to have the door snip shut behind her. She’d had to go to the neighbours and wait there for him to come. She’d been mortified, he said.
‘Was it a housecoat sorta dressing gown, you know the type they wear in the films with the heeled fluffy, kitten slippers?’ Bronagh asked tongue-in-cheek, doubting there were many women in the Dublin suburbs who got around of a morning dressed like Hollywood film stars.
‘No, it was not. It was a tatty old thing.’
That made her giggle.
‘Serves her right for not getting dressed in the first place,’ Myrna piped up. She prided herself on always getting dressed, even on her worst days, if she made it down the stairs. ‘This meat’s lovely, Bronagh. Melt in your mouth.’
The telephone shrilling made them all jump and Bronagh resented the intrusion into their pleasant evening but she couldn’t very well leave it unanswered. She answered it on the third ring. ‘Hello?’
‘Bronagh, it’s Hilary.’
Her sister’s voice turned the meal she’d been enjoying into a solidified lump in the pit of her stomach. She wouldn’t be phoning to chat about the weather. Not wanting the rest of the evening spoiled, she tried to head her off. ‘Hilary, can I call you back we’re just having our tea.’
‘No, listen, I won’t keep you. I’m ringing to apologise because there’s to be a change of plan this weekend. We can’t have Mammy to stay because Erin’s after catching the flu and you know how susceptible Mammy is. She couldn’t possibly be around her.’
Bronagh’s chest tightened at the crushing disappointment of it all and if her mam and Kevin weren’t sitting a stone’s throw away, she’d have burst into messy, noisy tears at the unfairness of it all. As it was, she kicked the carpet, glad of the pain in her toe to distract from the pain in her heart.
Chapter 30
Maureen and Donal walked past the middle pier where the Howth Yacht Club was located, both rugged up in hats, scarfs and coats, arm in arm. Pooh was leading the charge, snuffling his way along the pavement. They paused, much to Pooh’s chagrin, to look at the curve of the white building with its glassed-in balcony wrapping around it. A blue and white striped awning hovered over it protectively, reminding them the summer months would eventually roll around again. For now though, it was deserted, but in a few months when the weather warmed up, the long, narrow space would be filled with members observing the action in the harbour. The abandoned, moored yachts bobbed in the grey waters of the Irish Sea alongside it, their masts stark
