Tony’s chop, chop, chopping picked up pace and he kept his head down. Aisling wished he’d disappear and as the door burst open and Paula walked through her arms laden with dirty dishes, she wished she could click her fingers and make both her and Tony disappear. She didn’t want the staff gossiping about her and Quinn. She took a deep breath.
‘I’ll get back to Leila and see if we can find something plainer.’
Quinn backtracked. ‘No, don’t do that. I want you to be happy with everything. It’s grand so it is and sure, I’m a fella, what do we know about table settings and the like?’
The tightening in Aisling’s chest eased as he offered her the olive branch. She took it.
‘We’ll find something in between,’ she said, finally smiling. Quinn grinned back, pleased to have sidestepped an argument. Aisling made her excuses to leave saying she was needed back at the guesthouse and as she kissed him goodbye, she penned one of her letters to self.
Dear Aisling,
I’d like some advice please on the best way to tell my fiancé that the pumpkin shaped carriage I’ve my heart set on to take me to the church on our wedding day looks likely to be in the bag. I’m asking because he seems to have his heart set on a low-key day and there’s nothing low key about a horse and carriage.
Yours faithfully,
Me
Chapter 7
Noreen
Noreen looked in the mirror of the fitting room. Shopping had been much more enjoyable when she was young. Mind there wasn’t much money for shopping back then. Her mammy had made most of her clothes when she was a youngster and Noreen had been a dab hand with the sewing machine too. She’d even made her own wedding dress, repurposing the fabric from her mammy’s gown into a modern style with a bolero jacket. Everybody had said she looked a picture. The old singer machine their dear mammy had sat hunched over until her eyes were no longer up to the task had gone to her. Rosamunde her younger sister had not objected but then she’d had a hard time putting so much as a pillow case together the year they’d done home economics! She conjured up an image of herself on her wedding day. The memory of how she’d nearly skipped up the aisle to stand next to her Malachy, so tall and handsome in his suit never failed to make her smile. How full of hopes and dreams for their future they’d been!
Life’s not worth living if you don’t have dreams when you’re young Noreen often thought. She’d been heard to remark on occasion too that this was what was wrong with the youth of today. They had no oomph, no spark, worst of all no ambition. She’d seen spark in Rosamunde’s daughter Emer’s eyes from a young age and she’d found a kindred spirit in her niece. She’d felt back then, Emer would grow up to do great things and she closed her eyes for a moment remembering.
1961
‘HERE SHE IS THEN.’ Rosamunde pushed open the door to the shop, her oldest daughter Emer carrying her overnight bag by her side. ‘Sure, you’re a saint, Noreen.’
‘Not at all.’ Noreen straightened, her hand automatically going to the small of her back to ease the ache always lodged there from bending over. She’d been tidying the morning papers and the counter display while it was still quiet. ‘Sure, I’m in need of someone to help me in the shop today what with Uncle Malachy away off to Galway for the races.’ Malachy wasn’t much of a betting man and she counted her blessing he wasn’t a drinker like poor Bridie McAuley’s husband, Tom, but he did like a flutter at the summer gee-gees and who was she to begrudge him that? ‘Are you up to the job, Emer?’
‘I am, Aunty Nono.’ The little girl beamed at her. Emer had called her Aunty Nono when she was a tot and it had stuck. The two smiled at each other complicit in their understanding that no money would exchange hands but that Emer would be allowed to choose from an assortment of sweets to take upstairs later to munch on while her aunty carried on where they’d left off reading The Water-Babies the last time she’d stayed.
‘Well, one less gives me a break, fives an odd number so it is. It’s always four against one. Mammy told me to have another, even the number up or otherwise they’d be at each other day and night. She was right too.’ She realised who she was babbling on to. ‘Sorry, Noreen, that was thoughtless.’
‘Ah, you’re grand.’ Noreen brushed the comment away although the casualness with which her younger sister spoke of having children stung. How many tears had she shed month after month since she got married? Rosamunde could be a tactless mare. Sure, she’d have been happy with one baby to bounce on her knee let alone five. Children though were a blessing the good Lord hadn’t seen fit to bless her and Malachy with. It was something she’d grappled with and it had tested her faith but she was a good Catholic and, in the end, she’d listened to Father Michael who said God always had his reasons for doing what he did. He’d simply chosen a different path for her and Malachy, and it was up to her to steer them down it. She’d looked at things differently after that because her life was full of blessings. She had Malachy, they had their shop, and she made her mind up that God had bequeathed them
