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It was four o’clock by the time Mammy dropped Aisling and Moira back at O’Mara’s. She pulled up outside the guesthouse and told them she couldn’t come in. ‘I’ve joined the yacht club and there're drinks being held in my honour at five. I need to get home and get changed.’ Her foot was idling over the accelerator in readiness to take off.
Aisling opened the passenger door with, ‘Are you expecting us to drop and roll, Mammy?’
Moira was guessing the nautical gear would be getting an airing once she got home. She clambered out the back and had barely got the door shut before she was gone. A flash of red disappearing down the road. Her head spun sometimes she thought, making her way to the door, with the volume of activities her mammy involved herself in. It was her way of filling the hole Daddy had left behind in her days, she guessed. She wished she could do the same, but she wasn’t of a mind to take up golf or join a rambling group and she certainly wouldn’t be seen dead in boat shoes. She heard her phone bleep the arrival of another message from somewhere in the depths of her bag and gritted her teeth. If it was from Michael, she didn’t know if she’d be strong enough to ignore it this time around. She pushed open the door, Aisling close behind her and ventured inside.
Evie who came on at four was settling herself down behind the computer in the reception area while James, his shift finished, was slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Moira knew there’d be an empty lunch box and nothing else inside it. She marvelled over the amount of food the boyo could put away. Whenever she breezed past the front desk of a weekend, he’d be sitting there eating. Mrs Baicu, the mother of sons herself, had a soft spot for James and never failed to present him with a full Irish, more often than not he got a second helping, too. Bronagh had given him and him alone, permission to help himself to the custard creams and his mammy sent him off to work with a packed lunch fit for a king. She caught Evie eying him from under her lashes. He was a good kid, Moira thought. Give him another year and he’d be a proper heartbreaker.
James engaged Aisling with a brief run down on how his shift had gone. He’d only had one glitch when Mr Rochester in Room 5 came downstairs blustering about not being able to find his watch. James had located the Rolex down the side of the bed for him and everybody had been happy. ‘Apart from that everything’s been grand. I’ll catch ya.’ He gave a wave and pushed the door open ready to head home. For his tea, no doubt, thought Moira as Evie, a mournful look on her face as he shut the door behind him, took her headphones off.
The tinny sound of a Boyzone’s hit Everyday I Love You rattled from her MP3 Player before she turned it off. She’d be deaf by the time she was thirty listening to it that loud, Moira frowned. It was a very odd, old sort of thing to have thought. She wasn’t in her right frame of mind, she needed to get upstairs and check her phone in private. She also had a desperate urge to swap the dress she’d worn, knowing Mammy thought she looked well in it, for her pyjamas. She wanted to burrow in for the duration of the day and night.
Aisling moved beside the fax machine as it whirred into life, waiting to see what it would spit out. ‘I’ll check Ita’s made up all the rooms on the list before I come up. We’ve a tour group arriving in the morning.’
‘Hello, goodbye,’ Moira said to Evie, who gave her a grin having forgotten about James—out of sight out of mind—young love could be fickle she thought, taking herself off up the stairs.
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The message was from Andrea. Moira eyed it as she lay prone on the sofa with her striped pjs on. She didn’t want to call her back. She’d done enough hashing through the events of the night before as it was. Her hand snaked inside the family pack of Snowballs and she popped one in her mouth. She’d discovered the half-eaten bag tucked away behind the tins of spaghetti. It was where Aisling always hid things she didn’t want Moira getting hold of. Snowballs were Aisling’s premenstrual go-to. She was adamant there were hormonal balancing ingredients to be found in the chocolate and coconut marshmallow balls. Moira didn’t know about that, Aisling was always a snappy madam around that time of the month, but she was finding comfort in them.
She tossed her phone down next to her not knowing if she was disappointed or relieved that Michael hadn’t tried to get in touch with her again. She was spared dwelling on it further by the front door opening and she leapt into action shoving the bag under the cushions in the nick of time. Aisling wouldn’t be happy when she discovered her sister had been helping herself to her Snowball stash. There were times though when a girl had to do what a girl had to do to survive and right now Snowballs were hitting the spot—that was all there was to it.