‘Jaysus wept, no! Sure, we’ve just got through one wedding in the family.’
‘An anniversary then?’ Ciara pulled the thick triangle of white bread and eggy mayonnaise from the bag and stared at it. It was enormous, three meals in one.
‘No, I’m performing on Saturday night, on the stage like, at a seventieth birthday party and I’m after something with a country and western feel to it but it’s got to be class, too, if you know what I mean.’
Ciara hadn’t a clue but she was enjoying her sandwich.
‘A word from the wise, Ciara.’ Maureen said. ‘Don’t eat so fast or you’ll give yourself the indigestion. I’ll have a little browse about the place.’
Maureen busied herself looking at the different styles as the smell of egg drifted about the shop. It was very strong, she hadn’t thought of that. Still and all, Ciara over there was virtually inhaling the thing. Poor love was half starved.
‘I’ll be with you in half a tick,’ Ciara called over.
‘Another word to the wise,’ Maureen called back. ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full.’ Sure, that girl’s mam was a disgrace so she was, not feeding her and not teaching her any manners.
Maureen had pulled a dress she liked the look of off the rack and when Ciara had finally finished her sandwich she stalked over in heels, reminding Maureen of exactly that, a stalk.
‘I enjoyed that, thank you.’
Maureen took a step back from the full-frontal egg breath assault. ‘Not a bother. Now what do you think to this? She held up the red dress with the black belt trying to picture it with the white Stetson Laura had offered to loan her. She’d have to get some matching boots, she decided, not fancying her chances of sourcing a pair of white cowboy boots in Howth. A trip to the city would be needed.
‘No, no, no. You’d look like Mrs Claus in that,’ Ciara tutted, whisking it away and flicking through a colourful rack until she uttered a self-satisfied, ‘Perfect.’ She held it up for Maureen to see.
It was yellow and lacy with a sweetheart neckline and nipped-in waist, quite unlike anything Maureen had worn before. ‘I’ll look like Loretta Lyn in that.’ She snatched it off Ciara who was about to ask who Loretta Lyn was, but Maureen was already locking the fitting room door whipping everything off in order to try it on.
‘Are you ready?’ she called out a minute later.
‘Ready!’
Maureen unlocked the door and waltzed on to the shop floor with a swagger she felt was suitably countrified. ‘Now, Ciara, I want you to pretend I’m wearing a white cowboy hat and I’ve matching boots on.’
Ciara nodded.
‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking you look like you’re about to burst into a country and western song.’
It was exactly the response Maureen was hoping for. She made to leave the shop with her new yellow, lacy dress, wrapped in tissue paper tucked inside a bag with the boutique’s name on it, when the door opened. She stepped aside to allow a woman with big black sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head, despite their being no sign of the sun anymore, over the threshold. Before she could venture forth however, Maureen laid a hand on her arm and leaned in to whisper. ‘If you’re wondering what the smell is in here, I want you to know it wasn’t me or Ciara there behind the counter. She’s after having an egg sandwich is all.’ She’d hate for the woman to think badly of either of them.
Chapter 34
1971
Bronagh didn’t want to tell her mam she wouldn’t be spending the weekend in Tramore with Hilary and the family, after all. Not in front of Kevin. She’d stood in the hallway holding the phone in her hand, even though her sister was no longer on the other end, and taken a moment to compose herself. Her disappointment was like a big rock bearing down on her and she hoped it didn’t show as she ventured back into the kitchen.
‘Who was that on the phone ringing at teatime?’ Myrna asked disapprovingly.
‘Only Rhoda,’ Bronagh fibbed, her friend’s name the first that had sprung to mind. ‘I told her I’d call her back later.’
‘Rhoda should know better. Sit down and have your meal, Bronagh, before it gets cold,’ her mam bossed. She was always livelier when Kevin was here, more like the mam of old. He was good for Mam just like he was good for her.
Bronagh glanced at his plate. He’d nearly cleaned his meal up and before she sat down, she offered him another sliver of the tender, salted meat carved on the chopping board.
‘I won’t say no.’ He grinned and forked a slice on to his plate. ‘And a smidge more gravy if there’s any left.’
Pleased he was enjoying her meal she passed him the jug then sat down. Her appetite was gone but somehow, she managed to get the rest of what was on her plate down her. At least she hadn’t loaded it up, wanting to make sure there was plenty for Kevin. Her trousers had been feeling on the snug side lately, she’d needed to cut back on her serving size. Mam ate like a bird most of the time but tonight she’d managed a decent helping which was good to see. The last mouthful lodged in her throat and she got up from the table quickly and fetched a glass of water to swallow it down with.
‘You go and watch your programme, Myrna,’ Kevin said as they all placed their knives and forks down. ‘I’ll help Bronagh wash up.’
‘Ah, you’re a grand lad, Kevin. Your mammy ought to be proud of you.’ Myrna patted his arm and turned to Bronagh her eyes shining. ‘That was a lovely meal.’
Bronagh’s heart broke for her own disappointment and for her mam’s as she watched her shuffle slowly back to the front room to settle in for her show.
‘It was.’ Kevin patted his middle. ‘I’ll
