She picked a seat halfway down the bus then immediately wished she hadn’t as the woman in front of her reeked of perfume. Noreen wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been in Boots having free squirts of whatever was on offer because the smell was an eyewatering and confusing mix of flowers and spices. She shuffled across her seat so she was next to the window and placed her bags down on the aisle seat. It was done in the hope of warding anyone off who was of a mind to sit down next to her and while away the hour-long journey by chattering because she was too weary for small talk.
She glanced at the Debenham’s bag on the seat beside her. Noreen missed Roches Stores where the service had been second to none but she’d done alright in its replacement department store. The sales assistant had carefully folded and wrapped her dress, with the matching jacket she’d managed to find, in tissue paper which she hoped would be enough to prevent it taking on the scent of whatever that woman in front of her had tipped all over herself. She’d gone for the green in the end because Malachy had always liked her in green.
Of course, once she’d solved the problem of what she was going to wear to Aisling’s wedding, she’d had to think about shoes, handbag and a hat. There was no point letting the dress down with mismatched accessories. Speaking of shoes, her ankles felt like they were spilling over the top of hers. Fluid retention Doctor Finnegan had said when she’d been to see him about it. It happened when she’d been on her feet too long. She’d soak them in Epsom salts tonight.
A young lad slouched past her and she tsked silently. No oomph in him, no get up and go, and he could do with pulling his trousers up, too. A slovenly appearance made for a slovenly mind in her opinion. Not that she’d tell him this; she’d probably get a mouthful for her efforts because these young ones had no respect for their elders. She was wishing they could get on their way when the bus rumbled into life, slowly pulling out into the afternoon traffic. It was nearly time for the children to be getting out of school and their mammies would all be roaring off to pick them up. When did children stop walking to school? she wondered. It was no wonder this generation were a pack of lazy so-and-sos, not willing to work hard to get to where they wanted to be in life. Emer had tried to take shortcuts too and look where it had gotten her.
The urban scenery gave way to the rocky, rugged landscape of her beloved County Cork. As she spied a rainbow stretching boldly over the fields, Noreen began to breathe easier now there was distance between herself and the city. She was in two minds about her upcoming visit to Dublin. The pace of the place terrified her but it would be nice to have a weekend of being waited on at O’Mara’s and to see the family. Maureen had told her when she’d rung to confirm she was coming that it looked likely Cormac would be over from America. He’d be giving Aisling away in place of her daddy. Sad business that was, Brian getting the cancer she thought. It would be good to see Cormac again though. It had been far too long between visits. She’d always had a soft spot for him although she’d never understood why he’d upped and left and gone all that way to boot. He’d never married either which was a shame because he had a lovely nature as a young lad, very gentle. He’d have made some lucky lass a grand husband. It was a waste was what it was.
Her mind flitted back to Emer as the bus stopped to let the scraggly bunch of sheep, who’d decided they had the right of way, mosey across to the opposite field. What would she look like now? She didn’t like to think about the last time she’d laid eyes on her. Words had been said that had sliced like a knife through the bond between them. Emer had been eighteen years old. She’d be in her late forties now or was she fifty? Noreen was too tired to do the sums. Rosamunde had telephoned not long after Aisling’s wedding invitation had arrived. She’d said it was an opportunity to mend bridges as Emer had accepted the invite and would Noreen see her way to patching things up with her? Sure, Rosamunde had said, it was years ago and it did no one any good to hold onto grudges. What Rosamunde didn’t understand, Noreen thought listening to her, was that it wasn’t a grudge she held. No, not at all. It was a wound she carried with her. A wound that, even now, hurt when it was being prodded like it was being prodded by this wedding.
The bus juddered forth and the fields outside, as the rainbow had done moments earlier, faded into the background her mind spinning backwards.
1966
‘OH, AUNTY NONO, UNCLE Malachy! It’s gorgeous, so it is.’ Emer with a party hat perched precariously on top of her dark head held the sterling silver cross pendant up to the light. Her dark brown eyes were shining. The jeweller’s box along with the birthday card they’d chosen for her were open on the table in front of the place they all thought of as hers at the table.
Noreen and Malachy exchanged pleased glances with one another. They’d made a special trip into town to Longford’s the Jewellers last Friday having got young Seamus,
