‘I hope you weren’t mean with the caraway seeds like last year, Mammy,’ Moira called back.
‘There’s more seeds than cake, I’ll have you know.’ Maureen was indignant. ‘And they were a ridiculous price last year, so they were.’
‘Why’s Aunty Moira lighting a candle?’ Noah asked from where he was cuddled on his mam’s knee. He was playing with a lock of her hair, twisting it around his finger the way he always did when he was tired.
‘It’s to provide a welcome light for Mary and Joseph,’ Roisin explained, enjoying the feel of his warm weight on her lap. He was dead on his feet, poor love. It had been a big day and the evening had been just as big if not bigger.
Her mind drifted back to that afternoon. She’d arranged to meet Shay the day after St Stephens Day and she could hardly wait. His kiss had gone down as her best ever Christmas present. She’d floated home from Quinn’s, ignoring Cindy’s smirking gaze and the one hundred and one questions from Moira and Mammy about what she’d gotten up to in the car park and why her lipstick was smudged halfway across her face. She’d been telling them to mind their own business as they barrelled in through the door of O’Mara’s to find Aisling in full hostess mode. She’d been milling about chatting to the American tour party who’d not long arrived back at the guesthouse while Bronagh busied herself checking them all in.
Maureen had instantly slotted into her old role, and Roisin and Moira grabbed Cindy to make their escape. By the time they’d reached the bottom of the stairs she’d launched into a conversation about Irish Christmas traditions with a couple from Maine. Pooh’s effusive greeting when she’d opened the door had brought Roisin back down to earth, not to mention flying backwards and Moira and Cindy had done a wary sidestep all the way through to the lounge. They’d found Patrick and Noah sitting on the floor surrounded by coloured paper.
Patrick had explained they’d collected Pooh and Mr Nibbles after their film so as Mammy wouldn’t have to drive back to Howth later that afternoon. ‘That one who does the cleaning is a bit strange isn’t she?’ he’d added.
‘Idle Ita? In what way?’ Roisin had asked.
‘Well every time I head down the stairs, she pops out from one of the rooms like a fecking Jack in the Box and just stands there staring at me. It’s unnerving, she reminds me of your one out of that Stephen King film.’
‘Carrie.’ That had come from Moira.
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’
‘I think she’s sweet on you, Pat.’ Roisin recalled the housekeeper’s excitement at the news Patrick was home.
‘You can’t blame her, honey. You are one gorgeous hunk of a man.’ Cindy had draped herself over him while Moira made gagging noises.
‘Look, Mummy,’ Noah who’d been fed up with the lack of attention had cried. He’d held up the beginnings of a paper chain. ‘Uncle Pat’s teaching me how to make these.’
‘Can we help,’ she’d asked, and the three of them had sat down cross-legged next to the two boys to begin stapling and folding in earnest, while Pooh watched with his head resting on his paws and Mr Nibbles scrabbled sporadically in his cage. It had made Roisin nostalgic for her childhood, and Mammy, when she’d run out of delights to share with the tour group, had been delighted all over again with their efforts, declaring that the colourful chains would be used to decorate the dining room.
Indeed, the paper chains had looked festive once they’d draped them around the room, digging out the box of tinsel kept in the hall cupboard to add a bit of sparkle. The dining room had looked even more festive with a mug of the mulled wine, Aisling had made, warming their insides, and they’d been pleased with their efforts as they trooped back upstairs to watch the Late Late Toy Show Moira had recorded earlier that month for them all to watch. It had whiled away the hours until Midnight Mass.
Roisin cuddled Noah closer, rocking him as she used to when he was a baby. Her heart was full. He’d nodded off on her shoulder during the mass despite the hard wooden pew on which they were all perched. It had been a lovely evening she thought as she rested her face against his soft downy head. She inhaled the faint smell of frankincense which clung to his hair from the incense that had burned inside the church. Father Fitzpatrick’s service had been brief, but to the point as befitted the time of night. Roisin had always enjoyed the carol singing at Midnight Mass, it was her favourite part because that was when it felt like Christmas to her. Not even Mammy bellowing Silent Night in her ear like a cow on heat could change that.
As for Mammy, well she’d been in seventh heaven surrounded by her whole family. It was a rare event these days and even rarer to get them all under God’s roof. She’d told them all, in no uncertain terms, to be on their best behaviour just as she used to when they were small only this time, thanks be to God, she didn’t spit on a hanky and start wiping at their faces. She’d had to have a quiet word with Patrick before they left when Cindy bounced into the
