Roisin shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s true though.’
‘Well, I’m proud of you too, Roisin.’
Roisin’s eyes inexplicably filled. ‘Are you?’
‘Of course, I am.’ Maureen spotted the telltale glistening in Roisin’s eyes. ‘Ah now, don’t be silly, c’mere and have a cuddle.’ Mammy pulled her into a damp embrace and Roisin sniffed. So much had happened this year, so many changes, but she’d survived just as Mammy had. She looked past her mammy’s shoulder and her eyes widened at the sight of Pooh frolicking around a woman in a turquoise rain jacket. A camera was in her hand and on the breeze floated what she was guessing was a Scandi version of ‘feck off with you’.
‘Mammy?’ Roisin pulled away from her. ‘You’d best sort Pooh out.’
Maureen turned just in time to see her pampered pooch joyfully snuffling around the woman’s backside.
‘Pooh O’Mara, you cut that out right now you dirty boy!’
Jaysus wept, thought Roisin, he really was part of the family. She’d have to tell her sisters about this.
Chapter 8
Their luck was in because Mammy had sneaked into a parking spot right outside the guesthouse and as they piled out of the car, Roisin glanced up at the red brick Georgian manor house. When she was growing up it had simply been home. Not your average family home granted, but home nonetheless. It was only once she’d moved away to London that she’d truly begun to appreciate how magical O’Mara’s was and how lucky she was to have such a slice of the city’s history in her family. It was part of Noah’s legacy, she mused, feeling oddly poetic.
Maureen led the way, or rather Pooh did, and Roisin followed herding Noah toward the panelled, blue front door. It was topped by the small windows and white arching crown so typical of the famous Dublin doors in their pocket of the city. An enticing glow emanated through the multiple paned windows next to the door, a welcoming signal to come on in on this cold afternoon. It afforded a glimpse of the spectacular, sparkly Christmas tree inside ensuring no passers-by would be left in doubt that the festive season was upon them.
The tree was a focal point as soon as you stepped through the door. It was enormous, even bigger than Elsa’s had been and Roisin hoped no tour groups were due to arrive while it stood to attention as it took up a good portion of the foyer. They’d have to line up and wait their turn outside to check in! It was a tree that Father Christmas himself would be proud of she thought, eying it as she bundled in behind Mammy, Pooh and Noah. This seemed to be the natural order of things, that Pooh was by Mammy’s side. She’d been affronted that she’d had to sit in the back of the car with Noah on the ride over while Pooh, got to sit up front. Mammy had said he thought of it as his seat and it wouldn’t be fair to change his routine. She could have sworn the poodle gave her a look that said, ‘You better get used to it, sister, cos it’s the way it’s gonna be.’
She closed the door to the guesthouse quickly before the polar blast currently whistling down the pavement outside could follow them in. It was only four o’clock but the street lights outside were already on, their glow spilling pools of light onto the damp puddles. A steady stream of homeward bound traffic trickled past the Green.
Noah’s eyes were out like organ stoppers and his mouth formed a delighted ‘O’ as he stared up at the tree, taking in all the gold blingy decorations dripping from it. Roisin spied his little hand reaching out, unable to resist touching the shiniest of the baubles. The woman responsible for putting this, the most glorious, or ridiculously oversized depending on how you looked at it, tree together, Bronagh, peered over the front desk to see what all the commotion was about. There were two bobbing reindeer on springs attached to the Alice band on her head. They danced about as she shot up from her seat to greet them only to be stopped dead in her tracks by Pooh. He charged for the receptionist, pinning her against the fax machine. She never stood a chance, Roisin thought, as her mammy gave her triceps yet another workout trying to rein him in. A kerfuffle ensued as she tugged him off her. ‘Naughty boy, Pooh. A million apologies, Bronagh. He can’t help himself. The tree looks fabulous—’ Her voice was lost as he dragged her up the stairs.
Bronagh smoothed her rumpled cardigan and inspected her skirt for signs of muddy paw prints. Finding none she looked at Roisin and shook her head causing a frantic bobbing of the reindeer. ‘Yer mam’s gone soft in the head over that dog. I never thought I’d see the day when Maureen O’Mara was at the beck and call of a poodle. How’re ye, Rosi?’
She held out her arms for a hug and Roisin stepped into the embrace, smelling her familiar biscuit and hairspray smell as she squeezed her back. ‘I’m grand, Bronagh.’ The older woman released her and studied her face.
‘You look well. Your mammy told me you’re doing ever so well with your new flat and job. Good for you.’
‘Thanks.’ It was nice to know Mammy had been singing her praises. ‘I won’t lie. It hasn’t been easy but it’s getting easier.’
Bronagh nodded. ‘It’s all very brave of you.’
Roisin the Brave. She liked how that sounded. It was a much better title than Easy-osi Rosi, she decided, wondering if she could get Mammy to run with it and then, remembering herself, she asked, ‘And how are you, how’s your mam doing?’
‘Ah, she’s much the same. We’re looking forward to Christmas day though, it will be a lovely treat to have our dinner with you all.’
‘It’s lovely you’re both coming.’ Bronagh and her mammy were as
