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Moira didn’t know where it came from but as she sat statue-still on the bed, the phone warm in her hand, something bubbled its way up inside her. It erupted into a sob and once it had escaped the floodgates opened and a torrent followed. She dropped the phone and held her head in her hands as her body racked with violent unstoppable shudders. She felt herself getting pulled in to an Arpège embrace but this time she gulped in the scent desperate to cling on to her mammy. The hole she’d been skirting around since her daddy died had just widened into a chasm and she was teetering on the edge terrified if she fell in, she’d never be able to clamber back out.
‘I’m scared, Mammy.’
‘Shush, now. I’m here. Whatever it is we can fix it.’
‘Mammy, what’s going on?’ Aisling’s voice sounded from the doorway. ‘Moira, what’s happened?’
Moira felt her sister sit down on the other side of her and her arms wrap around her so she was cocooned between her mammy and her sister.
She choked out the words she’d been holding inside, ‘I miss Daddy.’
‘Ah, sweetheart I do too. He was one in a million your daddy. I miss him all the time. It’s like an ache that won't go away.’ Mammy’s voice was choked.
‘That’s how I feel too,’ Aisling sniffled, joining in.
They stayed like that for an age until Moira’s crying began to abate to small kitten-like hiccups.
‘Come on,’ Mammy said. ‘I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea. Aisling, go downstairs and ask Bronagh for a packet of her custard creams, tell her it’s an emergency.’
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Moira was sprawled on the sofa, the blanket Mammy had tucked around her threatening to slide off as she leaned over and dunked her biscuit. She quickly popped it in her mouth before it could collapse into her tea. She instantly felt better for the sugar hit. She’d held nothing back, she’d told Mammy and Aisling all about Michael and was grateful that, for once, they’d just sat and listened. They didn’t pass judgment until she’d reached the bitter end. Then, there’d been some debate whether the relationship could even be deemed a relationship given it hadn’t been consummated—Mammy’s word—it had made both Aisling and Moira cringe. It was decided that it didn’t matter if any riding—Aisling’s word—it had made Mammy blanch, had taken place or not. The intimacy of the conversations, the feelings they’d shared, the kisses, they all amounted to an affair, of the heart at least, and if they were Adelaide—what kind of name was that?—they’d see it as a betrayal—both their words. The main thing was, Mammy said, fixing Moira a no-nonsense gaze, was that it was all over and done with now.
It was, Moira had told her. She meant it too. This time there’d be no going back. She’d seen it in Michael’s eyes when he’d taken Adelaide’s call. It had dawned on him in those awful seconds he could lose his family. She didn’t want to be responsible for that. She’d mend. People didn’t die of a broken heart, or at least she didn’t think so. Ruby would heal too. It would just take time that was all.
Aisling had cocked her head and sighed. ‘I’m going to check on Ita. I asked her to hoover the second-floor landing but I can’t hear anything. The last time I saw her she was sitting on the stairs on her phone. I don’t know what we pay her for, I really don’t.’
‘Ah, sure don’t be giving out. I’ve known her mammy for years, she’s like an aunt to you so she is. Ita’s a good girl, Aisling, she just needs a prod here and there.’
‘Foot up the arse, more like.’
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing.’ Aisling rolled her eyes in Moira’s direction before heading off in search of their Director of Housekeeping, leaving her sister to the remainder of the biscuits. Mammy was transferring the wet sheets into the dryer.
‘I think going to see someone you can have a chat to about how you’ve been feeling might be a good idea, Moira.’
‘What do you mean, see someone?’ Her hand hovered over the last two biscuits as she visualised lying on a sofa. Much like she was now come to think of it, only in a darkened room with a wizened old man with huge glasses on, writing notes on a pad as he asked her how she felt. No, not a good idea she concluded.
‘A grief counsellor. I should have suggested it after yer daddy passed but it was all I could do to get out of bed each morning. I went and had a few sessions with a lovely lady. I think it helped, a little anyway. But hitting the bottle the way you’ve been isn’t the answer,r Moira.’
‘Did you have to lie on a sofa?’
‘No, I sat in a chair.’
‘Did she wear big owl glasses?’
‘No.’
‘I’ll think about it then.’
‘Now then,’ Mammy said, setting the dryer to run and heading in Moira’s direction. ‘Scrunch up, I’ve something else to tell you.’ She sat down next to her with her hands clasped in her lap as she told Moira that Rosemary had cancelled her trip to Vietnam.
‘Are her hips not up to it?’ Moira feigned sympathy. It would seem she could scratch her plans to employ good cop, bad cop tactics with Aisling where this holiday was concerned.
Mammy gave her a funny look. ‘Nothing to do with her hips and all to do with the new fella in our rambling group she’s got her eye on. She’s frightened if she goes away Breda McGrath will get her hooks into him. It’s a blessing in disguise, Moira because I’ve had an epiphany this morning.’
Moira could feel her headache returning as Mammy picked up her hand and held it in hers, giving it a squeeze for good measure. ‘I still think grief counselling is worth a go but a change of scenery after well, all this other Michael business will do you the world of good. We’ll make it a mother-daughter, trip. You and me against the world, kiddo.’
Moira cringed at her faux-American accent but it went over the top of her head.
‘A break from hitting the sauce won't do you any harm and then when we get home, we can reassess your drinking see if we need to look at getting you some professional help.’
‘But Mammy—’ This was a waking nightmare.
‘But Mammy nothing. We’ll have a grand time, so we will.’