Moira interrupted, ‘Bags not stuff the turkey. I can’t stand sticking my hand up its arse.’
‘Moira!’
‘I’ll do the turkey, Mammy, and once I’ve got it in the oven, I’ll set the table, oh and don’t forget Quinn’s made the plum pudding. It’s curing as we speak.’ Aisling smiled, knowing if she put her hand up for this then she wouldn’t get the job of scrubbing potatoes or prepping the Brussels.
Maureen scribbled earnestly before looking at Cindy. ‘Now then, Cindy, how about we put you on carrots, parsnips and the Brussels. Hmm, and,’ she chewed the end of the pen for a moment, ‘Moira you’re on potatoes and you can help your sister decorate the dining room. Roisin, you can be in charge of the smoked salmon starters and mulled wine.’
‘What are you doing, Mammy?’
‘I’m on the roast ham and bread sauce.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking what Pat’s going to be doing,’ Aisling said.
‘Sitting on his arse, that’s what,’ Moira said.
‘Leave your brother alone, girls. Sure, he works hard all year, he deserves to put his feet up.’
All three sisters looked from one to another in mutual outrage. ‘It’s nearly the Millennium, Mammy, that kind of thinking went out with the dark ages,’ Aisling said, but Mammy pretended she couldn’t hear her as she stowed her pen and pad back in her bag. She decided to let it go, knowing she’d be wasting her breath and turned her attention to Moira and Cindy who were chatting.
Roisin glanced around the restaurant. There were no empty tables, she saw, as her eyes settled on the empty stage upon which two littlies were playing a game of chase. She pictured Shay standing there and remembered how their eyes had literally met over a crowded bar. Mammy talking in her ear brought her back to the here and now and her chat with their American guest, Gerry sprang to mind. ‘Mammy,’ she said her voice lowered so Aisling wouldn’t overhear and have her Christmas surprise ruined, ‘have you heard of Cliona Whelan?’
‘Sure, of course I have, she’s a fine journalist, and she was a role model in my day, so she was, for women in the workforce. She’s written a book hasn’t she?’
‘She has, and, Mammy, you won’t believe it, listen to this...’ Roisin filled her in on the story Gerry, the guest she’d encountered over breakfast, had told her about his and Cliona’s ill-fated romance back in the late nineteen-fifties. ‘He told me she changed the names and the story’s been fictionalised but at the core it’s their story only in Cliona’s book, instead of her staying in Dublin she goes to Boston and marries him. He claws his way up to the top echelon of American politics and she manages, against the odds, to carve a career for herself as a journalist. He said Cliona was always a woman before her time.’
‘That’s a big word, Roisin.’
‘Echelon? I know, Gerry used it.’
‘Well, it’s quite the story. I’ll have to read the book now and would you credit it, him staying at O’Mara’s?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t believe it, especially with me having bought the book the day before for Aisling. She broke his heart he said. Although he came to understand her reasons for doing so.’
‘And did he marry?’
‘Eventually. He told me he followed the path laid out for him and when his parents steered him toward a woman from what they called “good stock” he went along with it. He married her but it didn’t last. They had two children, boys who are grown up with children of their own now.’
‘Did she, Cliona, I mean ever marry?’
‘No, her work always came first. I read in the foreword of the book that she said it had to in the times she moved in, if she wanted to succeed.’
‘She smashed through the glass ceiling alright, and it wouldn’t have been easy.’
‘It came at a cost, too. Do you think she’ll meet him at the Merrion, Mammy?’ Roisin had seen the look in Gerry’s eyes when he spoke about Cliona and knew his heart would be broken if they didn’t get a second chance at love.
‘You’re a softy you are.’ Maureen patted her daughter’s hand and looked pensive. ‘I like to think we all deserve a second chance when it comes to love, Rosi, because life’s too short to spend it sad.’
Again, there was something unsettling about the expression that passed over her mammy’s face and Roisin squirmed in her seat, grateful when Paula appeared at the table and set about distributing the drinks. She was glad when the glass of red wine that was put in front of Mammy broke the strange spell that had settled over her.
Chapter 24
Roisin watched Cindy out of the corner of her eye. She had a ritualistic style of eating that was fascinating to observe. Her brother’s girlfriend forked up another piece of sausage and held it to her pert little nose, which quivered delightedly as she sniffed at it. In that instance she reminded Roisin of Mr Nibbles. A look of bliss settled over her face just like it did the gerbil’s when he had hold of a lettuce leaf but instead of nibbling at it gleefully like Noah’s new pet did, she put the sausage back on her plate. She then cut a tiny sliver off and popped that in her mouth, pushing what remained of it to the side of her plate to keep company with the new potatoes that had been relegated there. Roisin counted twenty chews before she swallowed. She knew all about mindfulness, and it was something she tried to practise. Mindful eating, however, was something she, Mammy, and
