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‘Moira, Rosi! I’m after dropping my crutches,’ Maureen hollered from deep inside the apartment.
Moira and Roisin locked eyes across the table where Moira was sitting with a coffee and a bowl of cereal in front of her. The sisters had been catching up on one another’s lives, or more to the point Moira’s, and what she planned on doing with hers now she was back from her holiday. Noah was sprawled out on the mat in front of the television. There was a plate of toast on the floor next to him which he was ignoring. He was too engrossed in the bright and bouncy children’s show flickering in front of him to eat and seemingly oblivious to his nana’s cry for help, too.
‘You go,’ Moira said through her mouthful pointing her spoon at Roisin. ‘I’m eating my Shredded Wheat, and I’ve just had nearly a whole month of being at her beck and call. It’s your turn now.’
Roisin scowled at her before glancing at Noah. She debated sending him to rescue his nana but didn’t fancy her chances of dragging him away from those eejits wearing what looked like Star Trek outfits dancing about to some song about potatoes on the screen in front of him.
‘Hurry up, would yer! I don’t want to sit here all day. Jaysus, girls, are your legs painted on or what?’
Roisin sighed. She had a sinking feeling that she knew where her mammy was and that this was not going to be pretty. Shooting one last squinty-eyed look at her sister, she pushed her chair back and got up before venturing out into the hallway.
‘Mammy?’
‘I’m in here, indisposed so I am, Roisin.’
Feck it, as she’d suspected Maureen’s voice was emanating from the er, bowels of the throne room. She knocked tentatively.
‘Roisin O’Mara, stop messing, I’ve just told you I’m in here, open the door and help me.’
Roisin turned the handle and pushed open the door not sure what she would find. Her mammy stared up at her with a piqued expression at having been kept waiting. She was sat on the toilet with the sweatpants she’d cut the elasticated bottoms out of in order to accommodate her casty foot down around her knees. The crutches were lying just out of reach on the linoleum floor.
‘Well don’t stand there gawping like an eejit. Help me up. I’m not getting on with those feckity things.’ She kicked at the nearest crutch with her good foot. ‘I think they’re faulty. And you can wipe that look off your face, sure you’d never make a nurse. And me the woman who birthed you an' all.’
Roisin swung into action having no wish to listen to any further ear bashing. ‘Right then, first things first.’ She picked up the crutches, faffing around arranging them under her mammy’s arms. ‘There now, have you got hold of them properly?’
Maureen was gripping the sticks so tightly she was white knuckled. ‘I do.’
‘Okay then, on the count of three I’ll pull you up.’
‘And pull me pants up because I won’t be laughing if you leave them round my ankles thinking it’s all a great joke.’
Roisin rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not ten, Mammy. Believe me there’s nothing funny about this, whatsoever.’
‘Okay then,’ Maureen gave her the nod, satisfied, ‘count of three it is.’
‘One, two, three and up.’ Roisin heaved and a moment later had restored her mammy’s dignity. ‘There you go, alright now?’
‘Grand. Now then, if you can just help me wash my hands, I’ll be all set. Oh and, Rosi, flush the toilet, I didn’t do it while I was waiting for you to come because I didn’t want water splashing—’
Roisin flushed not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. She followed her hopping mammy through to the bathroom and went through the motions with her hanging up the hand towel as Maureen announced she was starving after all that performance. ‘I’ve weeks of this, Rosi, not being able to do anything for myself. I don’t know how I’m going to cope.’ The beads clacked as she sadly shook her head before making her way awkwardly through into the living room.
Roisin swallowed back that she didn’t think she’d cope either. She’d only been in her mammy’s company a short while and she was already driving her potty. Hats off to Moira for sticking at it for nearly month, and in a foreign country too. Sure, she’d have tossed her over the side of that fecking junk she’d been so determined to sail on, if it had been her. Still and all, from what Moira had been telling her, the two of them had had a grand time right up until Mammy tripped over and broke her ankle in the hiking wilderness of some far away Vietnamese town.
Maureen sat down with a heavy sigh at the table, leaning her crutches alongside her. Moira looked up from her cereal.
‘Ah, it takes it out of me having to hop about the place. Moira, I’m knackered so I am, be a love would you and get me a bowl of whatever it is you’re having. I can’t manage it the way I am.’
Moira didn’t reply. Instead she picked her bowl up and drank down the dregs of milk.
‘Moira O’Mara, I taught you better than that. It’s like visiting Dublin zoo sitting at the table with you, so it is.’
Moira looked over at Roisin, who was waving the untouched toast under her son’s nose, hope in her eyes but Roisin was having none of it. She shook her head before giving up on Noah eating. ‘I just got her off the toilet, the least you can do is the Shredded Wheat,’ she said taking the plate through to the kitchen.
Moira knew when she was beat.
‘Good morning, Noah.’ Maureen twisted around in her seat to see her grandson. ‘You’ll get square eyes sitting that close to the television, so you will. Why don’t you come and sit up here with your nana?’ She patted her knee invitingly and squinted hard at the screen. ‘What are grown men doing dressed like that and singing about fruit?’ There was lots of bead clacking.
‘It was potatoes a few minutes ago,’ Roisin said, ‘and you used to say the same thing to us about sitting too close to the tele and we’ve all got perfectly normal eyes.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Except for Patrick, he’s most definitely got a roving one. Noah, Nana’s speaking to you.’
The sharpness in his mammy’s tone saw the little boy pull his eyes away and look over his shoulder. He gave his imposter nana with the funny hair a look that said he’d no intention of sitting by her.
‘It’s the braids, Mammy,’ Roisin said apologetically, not liking this belligerent streak her son had been demonstrating, ‘he doesn’t like change.’
Maureen’s lips tightened, ‘It’s more than my hair that has him in a mood, Rosi. Children sense things.’
Roisin felt guilt pierce her. Had she done the right thing by leaving the way she had? But what else could she have done? She couldn’t have stayed in the house waiting for Colin to come home and browbeat her as to how it wasn’t his fault the deal had gone sour. She knew he wouldn’t understand that it wasn’t about that. She eyed the telephone nervously as though by thinking about Colin she’d make it ring, but thankfully it remained silent. Noah would want to speak to him today though, she wouldn’t be able to hold off ringing Colin because he might be only five but the O’Mara stubborn streak ran through him and she knew Noah wouldn’t be fobbed off.
With that uncanny ability to read her mind, Maureen looked at her daughter. ‘You’ll have to speak to him sometime, Rosi, and the longer you leave it the harder it will get. Strike while the iron’s hot. Besides,’ she inclined her head toward Noah, ‘he’ll want to say hello to his daddy, and you can’t blame him. Whatever’s gone on between the two of you is nothing to do with him and you don’t want another performance like last night come bedtime now do you?’
Roisin shook her head, she most certainly did not.
‘I wouldn’t be worried about being fair where the chinless eejit is concerned.’ Moira banged a bowl of Shredded Wheat down on the table and Roisin shushed her with her finger to her lips.
‘Oh, I think it might need just a smidgen of sugar, Moira, love.’
Roisin couldn’t help but grin at the look on her sister’s face as she marched back into the kitchen to retrieve the sugar bowl.
‘And what have the pair of you planned for today then?’ Maureen asked, giving up on Noah joining her.
Roisin inclined her head toward her son. ‘Well as soon as his programme’s finished he can get dressed and then we’ll pop downstairs to say hello to Bronagh and Mrs Flaherty. I’m hoping Mrs Flaherty will be able to tempt him with one of her rasher sandwiches; he hasn’t eaten anything yet. Then, I thought we might take some old bread over the road and feed the ducks.’
‘That sounds a grand plan and, Rosi...’
‘Hmm?’
‘Think hard about what you’re doing my girl. Don’t make rash decisions.’
Roisin studied the ring her mug had left on the coaster. ‘I will.’ She decided to change the subject, not wanting to think about anything other than getting through the day. ‘I might give Jenny a ring too.’ The thought of her pal brightened her.
‘Jenny as in Jenny Fitzpatrick?’
‘Yes, it’s been ages since we caught up,’ Roisin’s voice trailed off. It would be nice to catch up with some of the old crowd. The last time they’d all been together was at Jenny’s wedding and that was nearly three years ago. Where had the time gone?
‘I saw her at Quinn’s a while back,’ Moira said. ‘I think I told you. She’s after cutting all her hair off.’
Roisin nodded, she recalled the conversation. It was hard to imagine her old workmate from her stint at the hairdressers with short hair.
‘No! All that long, shiny blonde hair gone. Has she gone and done a Sinead O’Connor or does she look like yer wan from that band you girls went mad for, the Arithmetics?’
Moira snorted, ‘Eurythmics, Mammy, and it was Rosi and Ash who were into them, they were before my time. But yes, she has a look of Annie Lennox about her.’
‘What was she thinking? She’s not a rock singer, she’s not even in the hairdressing anymore, sure, she’s a mammy?’
‘What were you thinking?’ Moira muttered.
‘I heard that.’
Roisin and Moira grinned at each other, jumping a second later as Maureen banged her hand down on the table, rattling the spoon in her bowl. ‘That’s it, I’ve had enough! My own grandson won’t come near me and my daughters won’t give me a moment’s peace on the matter, and me an invalid and all. I’ll ring Rosemary Farrell so I shall and ask her to come and un-braid me. She worked in the hairdressing.’
‘So did I, Mammy.’
‘Yes but it wasn’t your forte now was it, Rosi. No, best leave it to Rosemary besides it will kill two birds with one stone because I can tell her all about our holiday too. Oh, and that reminds me, I’ve a present for you and Aisling, Rosi. Would you like it now or do you want to wait for your sister?’
Roisin didn’t like the smirk that had appeared on Moira’s face at the mention of these mystery gifts; she’d wait because there was strength in numbers. ‘I’ll wait for Aisling, thanks, Mammy.’
‘Fair play. I hope you’ll be delighted with them.’ The inflection in her voice suggested that they’d better be, or else.
‘I’m sure we will be.’ So long as Mammy had only done the one wood carving while she was away, she’d be grand, Roisin thought to herself.
‘I might ring the DSPCA this morning too, and see if they have any little dogs needing a home. Did you hear that, Noah, my love, I’m thinking about getting a dog?’
‘I like dogs but not big, mean ones like the one on the way to school,’ Noah said, turning away from the television.
The credits were rolling down the screen and Roisin said, ‘Turn that off now, you’ve watched your show. It’s an Alsatian he’s on about,’ she explained to her mammy and Moira. ‘I call him Cujo. He lies in wait in the front garden and then when we draw near he jumps up at the gate barking and carrying on. He looks like he’d enjoy us for breakfast, but I’m sure his bark's worse than his bite.’
‘Ah, Mammy, don’t be after getting one of those horrible little ankle biters,’ Moira said, holding her arms out for Noah to come and sit on her knee. ‘Or one of those funny bug-eyed one’s you stick in your handbag.’
Noah ran over and clambered up on Moira’s lap. Maureen looked put out.
‘Rosi, fetch me the phone, I’ll give Rosemary a call now and see how she’s placed.’ She sat mumbling about her own grandson having disowned her while Roisin got up to retrieve the telephone. ‘I’ve my day sorted and Rosi and Noah are off to feed the ducks shortly. What have you planned, Moira? Because if you think you’re going to lie about being a lady of leisure, then you’re sorely mistaken. The holiday’s over my girl.’
‘Humph! Chance would be a fine thing what with all the running around after you.’ Moira jiggled Noah on her lap making him giggle. ‘I’m going to see Grainne, the HR manager at Mason Price first and hand in my resignation. I’ve an appointment for ten thirty.’ Moira had worked at the law firm as a receptionist for years now and it would be strange not being part of the front desk machinations each day.
‘You’ve made your mind up then?’
‘I have. I’m hoping Grainne might see her way to giving me a bit of evening work in the word processing department to help tide me over until I can get organised with my student loan. I’m due at the NCAD after that. I want to be enrolled in time for the new term, it’s only a few weeks away.’
‘Listen to you, the NCAD.’ She wasn’t letting the grass grow under her feet, Roisin thought feeling proud of her little sister, the National College of Art and Design was where she should have gone at the end of her schooling but it was never too late to go back and realise your dreams. Moira might have only been home five minutes but she was cracking on with all her new plans. Good for her. Roisin put the phone down in front of her mammy, looking on bemused as her sister’s pretty features softened.
‘And I’m meeting Tom for a late lunch.’
‘Well now, I hope he’s planning on treating you because you’ll have to watch your pennies if you’re going to be a student so you are,’ Maureen said.
Roisin had a feeling Mammy would be giving her a helping hand here and there. She wouldn’t see Moira go short for all her bluster.
‘He’s a student too, Mammy, you know that.’
She answered Roisin’s questioning stare at the mention of Tom—it was the second time she’d heard the name now and she had no idea who he was. ‘Tom’s studying to be a doctor. He waits tables at Quinn’s of an evening. That’s how I met him.’ She wasn’t going to tell the whole story of how she’d drunkenly dragged him home then asked him to leave before anything happened, not with elephant ears, Mammy, at the table.
‘A doctor! You’ve got to be happy about that, Mammy.’
Maureen wasn’t listening; she’d drifted off into a fantasy scenario whereby Moira was after having a private exhibition at the City Gallery and Maureen was introducing Rosemary Farrell to her son-in-law, Doctor Tom. She had to finish it there because she couldn’t remember the lad’s surname.
‘A student doctor, and we’ve not known each other long. I met him just before Mammy and I went to Vietnam.’ She shrugged. ‘I like him, he’s nice. And he has the best bum,’ she added feeling a frisson of delight at the thought of it. The word ‘bum’ set Noah off giggling.
‘Get your mind out of the gutter, Moira, there’s a child present, but he does have rather a shapely bottom, Rosi. You know, put him in a pair of blue jeans and a cowboy hat looking back over his shoulder and he could be on the cover of one of those romance novels your granny used to devour.’
‘Mammy! You better not have been looking.’
‘I’m not blind, Moira.’ She whispered conspiratorially to Roisin, ‘He’s a better match than that other fella we don’t mention any more, so he is.’
Moira pulled a face but didn’t say a word. Roisin had heard the story of how her sister had gotten entangled with a married man. She was still grieving Daddy, as they all were in their own ways, but she’d been drinking too much and needed to get away from the messy situation she’d gotten herself into, hence the mammy,-daughter trip to Vietnam.
‘Aisling’s keen for me to check out the delights of Quinn’s tonight, if you come too, Moira, then you can introduce me to Tom.’ Roisin was pleased Moira was obviously moving on. How strange to think for years it had been her who’d been the settled one and now just as her marriage imploded her sisters both had fine fellows on the scene.
‘Sure, that sounds a grand plan.’ She shot a look at Maureen. ‘Sorry, Mammy, you won’t be able to come, you’ll have to look after this young man here.’ She gave an extra jiggle and Noah squealed delightedly. ‘Sure we’d never get you down the stairs anyway let alone back up them and we can’t be asking the lads to fetch and carry you every five minutes.’
Maureen looked unimpressed.
Rosi looked at the time, it was just after nine. ‘C’mon, Noah, time to get dressed and when you’re sorted, we’re going to pop downstairs to say hello to Bronagh. If you’re lucky, Mrs Flaherty might fry you up some bacon for a rasher sandwich and give us a bag of bread for the ducks.
That got him moving.
‘Noah, tuck your vest into your knickers,’ Maureen called after him. ‘It’ll be cold out.’
‘Underpants, Mammy, boys where undies not knickers.’