Cruising with the O’Maras (The Irish Guesthouse on the Green #17)

Chapter 4

I t was a bustling Saturday afternoon in the seaside village of Howth. Maureen clutched a paper bag containing a cream slice for Ciara with a ‘C'. She thought she received better service from the young shop assistant by sweetening her up whenever she called into the boutique for fashion advice. So far, Ciara hadn’t put her wrong, apart from her and Bronagh’s unfortunate double act at the babby Brianna’s christening. Still, she wasn’t one for holding a grudge and, in Maureen's opinion, everybody deserved a second chance. Since stumbling across the shop’s treasure trove of clothes a few years back and discovering how flattering a wrap dress could be on a woman of certain years (thanks to Ciara), she’d felt a million dollars on the fashion front.

Today, she was flanked by Roisin, Aisling and Moira, who’d been eager to come along and help her buy the remaining items on her cruise ship wardrobe list. They were busily scoffing the cream slices they’d wheedled out of her by claiming favouritism where Ciara was concerned. Maureen had given in to their demands when the Piratey-looking man in the bakery, with the bandana and hoop earring, clacked his tongs menacingly at her due to the lengthening queue.

This afternoon’s outing was thanks to Donal, who’d thoughtfully offered to mind the grandchildren while the girls helped her shop until she dropped. They were each hoping to find something suitable for the Mayan Princess ’s formal night, too. Quinn and Tom were in intensive training for the next Dublin marathon, insisting their training programme wasn’t flexible enough to include prams and a bolshy toddler. As for Shay, his music festival work had taken him away to the wilds of Scotland.

He was a good man, was her Donal, Maureen thought, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and smiling over the scene they'd left behind. Donal had been crawling about the living room floor on all fours, giving Noah a horsey-back ride while Kiera chanted, ‘Gee-up, Nob-nob!’ Maureen had tried to tell her it should be ‘Gee-up, Poppa D!’ given he was the horse but the little girl had pouted at her nana, momentarily transporting Maureen back in time because she was the image of Moira as a tot. Then, with her eyes gleefully glinting, Kiera turned the volume up on the ‘Nobbing’. There were no flies on that one and the more they’d tried to get her to say ‘Noah’ instead, the more she’d insisted on ‘Nob’. As for the twins, bless them, they’d been happily chewing on rusks while watching the living room race-day shenanigans. She’d be sure to pick Donal up a cream slice on the way home. Maureen frowned: then again, perhaps not. It would be enough of a challenge keeping Donal away from all the creamy desserts she’d heard were on offer aboard the cruise ships as it was!

Maureen had chosen to wear a cotton shift dress for easy whipping on and off in the fitting room, and it swished around her legs as she marched past the pub. People were spilling from its open door onto the pavement, clutching pints and basking in the April sunshine. It was always the same when the sun shone. The locals were fond of pretending they were in the South of France when the mercury rose above twenty. Still and all, she thought it was a glorious day to be alive, breathing in the briny air and soaking up the jovial atmosphere the good weather had brought.

Sure, she was blessed, Maureen thought. She adored her life here in Howth, and not only did she have an ever-expanding family who loved her, but she also had the love of a good man. They shared a grand house herself and Donal, up on the hill with a sea view no less, which Maureen knew was the envy of all her friends. She belonged to so many community groups she’d lost count and, in between times, lavished attention upon her beloved grandchildren. Those dark days after her beloved Brian’s death seemed a long time ago now. Since she’d met Donal the sun always seemed to shine down upon her, even when it was raining. Her cup runneth over!

‘Mammy, look where you’re going!’ Moira yanked her back.

Too busy waxing lyrical about life, she’d been about to step straight into the path of a lycra-clad cyclist who was whizzing up the lane. Cup runneth over, she thought. More like cyclist runneth over! ‘Thanks a million, Moira. I was miles away. And don’t be talking with your mouthful. It wasn’t a heathen I raised.’ Maureen returned to her musings, thinking how well it had all worked out given the short notice this cruise had involved. Her friends and family had stepped up to the mark, coming on board with the idea.

Rosemary Farrell and her manfriend Cathal, who was in the shoe business, had said they’d be delighted to look after Pooh while she and Donal were away. Pooh was fond of Rosemary and Cathal and had stayed with them before, so she didn’t need to worry about him. It was a great weight off her mind, and she’d already drawn up a list of the poodle’s likes and dislikes for Rosemary to attach to the fridge. It had filled two pages. The country music compilation CD that helped soothe him when he was anxious was sitting on the table, ready to drop off tomorrow, along with all the rest of the paraphernalia that came with a poodle. Honestly, she’d more to cart around for Pooh than Aisling did the twins!

Rosemary had been pea green when she’d heard about Maureen and Donal’s upcoming adventure, especially when Maureen told her that, yes, line dancing was a feature on the Mayan Princess ’s ‘at sea’ days and that she would be a judge in the Haybale and Hoedown party’s line dancing competition. She wouldn’t be surprised if Rosemary wasn’t ringing around at this very moment to see whether she could muscle in on the act and get a cruise ship gig giving talks on rambling after hip replacements. As for Cathal, though, what would he do? Maureen thought hard momentarily because she didn’t think there was much call for cobblers on cruises.

Oh, what an adventure she and Donal would have cruising up and down the Mexican Riviera, no less! How exotic it sounded. She sighed happily, thinking of the endless blue sea, sky and glorious sunsets while sipping on a Pina Colada. It was hard to imagine not thinking about what was for breakfast, lunch or dinner for three months! And best of all, she’d have her whole family, including Donal’s, around her for a week to enjoy it all, too. To think that in under forty-eight hours, she’d be cuddling the babby Brianna over there in Los Angeles and checking in on Patrick!

Maureen felt like jumping in the air and clicking her heels together, just like Fred Astaire in those classic old films. Her mind turned to her forebearers, who’d had to spend weeks below deck on big ships to go abroad, and she thought about what a wonderful thing international air travel was. Then, remembering she would be spending months below decks abroad, she realised she’d reached the boutique and was grateful for the distraction of the mannequin posed in the window.

Moira, Aisling and Roisin, who’d been far too busy scoffing their cream slices to bother making conversation, came to a halt, too. All four O’Mara women stared in the window at the mannequin with the red wig and hip thrust forth like she was doing one of Roisin’s bendy yoga moves. She was draped in a floaty, floral handkerchief number with sparkles around the bustline.

‘I like those rhinestones.’ Maureen blinked, mesmerised by the sparkles.

‘Sure, you’re a magpie when it comes to anything shiny, Mammy,’ Roisin said. ‘Personally, I’d like it better with a paisley pattern. Not that it would fit me at the moment.’ She laughed and clasped her hands around her tummy. ‘It’s a paisley tent I’ll be needing.’

‘I’d wear it if it was shorter,’ Moira mused. ‘Like, way shorter.’

‘Is it cut on the bias?’ Aisling asked. ‘Because if it is, I can’t wear it. Bias cuts make my thighs look twice their size. I can’t be doing with a bias cut.’

Nobody knew the answer, so Maureen clapped her hands, ‘Come on, girls, we can’t stand outside gawping all afternoon. Ciara’s a fount of fashion knowledge. She’s bound to know the answer.’

Hearing the door jangle, Ciara looked up from the magazine she’d been flicking through with a guilty expression, quickly closing it and hiding it under the counter. Then, presumably because it was Maureen and her entourage and not her boss wondering why the boxes beside the counter remained unpacked, she relaxed. The fawning and fussing between her and Maureen saw Moira pull a gagging face at her sisters.

‘Ciara, tell me now, is that dress in the window cut on the bias?’

‘It is, Maureen, yes.’

‘Well, that’s me out,’ Aisling said, huffing off to flick through the racks.

‘Myself and the girls are going cruising, only I’m going for three months as crew. They’ve come to help me pick out the remaining essentials on my cruise wardrobe list under your expert eye.’

‘How exciting. I didn’t know you were a sailor, Maureen,’ Ciara gushed, scooping cream from the edges of her slice and popping her finger in her mouth.

‘Fecky brown-noser,’ Moira whispered to her sisters, making them grin.

‘As it happens, Ciara, I am a member of the Howth Yacht Club, and I have had sailing lessons, but a cruise ship is out of the realm of my experience.’

‘I’d say so, considering you can’t even parallel park, Mammy,’ Aisling said, ‘Can you imagine her trying to steer a cruise ship into port?’

Moira and Roisin sniggered.

‘I’m sailing onboard the Mayan Princess as tambourinist and cameo singer with The Gamblers, Ciara – you know, Donal’s tribute band? It won’t all be play and no work, though.’

‘Other way around, Mammy.’

Maureen ignored Aisling. ‘We’ve duties to fill, Ciara, including a Haybale and Hoedown night and line dancing competition. The girls, my son and their families, along with Donal’s side of the family, will be joining us for a week’s holiday next month once we’ve had a chance to settle into the swing of ship life. So, the girls here will need something to wear for the ship’s formal night. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful.’ Then, side-eying her offspring added, ‘Although if they carry on with the smart arse remarks, they might find it’s not too late to revoke their invitations.’

‘If she fecking well invites Ciara with a 'C' on the cruise, I’ll toss her overboard,’ Moira muttered.

‘Now then, Ciara, as you know, you’re my one-stop shop. Well, aside from knickers, of course. I dashed into Marks yesterday.’ She shuddered. ‘The traffic was a nightmare but everybody knows you can’t go on your holidays without new knickers and nobody does a comfortable brief for the hot weather like Marks and Spencer. Underwear needs to be able to breathe.’

‘Mammy!’ All three girls chimed.

Still pulling a face, Moira said, ‘Don’t be talking about knickers breathing or saying things like “One Stop Shop”, Mammy, it’s very annoying.’ She was distracted by a green micro mini dress, which she pulled out for inspection.

‘Don’t you be saying things like that to me either, or you’ll find yourself at home in an Irish summer while the rest of us are basking there on the Mexican Riviera. And you can put that back where you found it, Moira O’Mara. Think on. They’ve a strict dress code on the cruise ships, so they do. There’s no showing your arse to your fellow passengers allowed.’

Moira looked sceptical but did as she was told.

‘But I thought you were working as crew, like?’ Ciara, non-plussed, studied her finger, which was full of cream.

‘I am. It’s a working holiday. I’m confident I’ll find everything on that list right here.’ She smoothed the paper she’d fetched from her bag under the younger woman’s nose.

‘And Ciara, what have you got that’s not cut on the bias?’ Aisling piped up.

‘This is pretty,’ Roisin was saying to no one in particular, having found a halter neck dress with plenty of room around the middle.

‘You’d want to be careful on the open decks wearing that, Rosi.’ Maureen was frowning. ‘I’d imagine it can get very blowy out on the open sea, and that yoke there would spend more time up round your ears than floating about your knees.’

‘That’s a good point you’re after making there, Mammy.’ Roisin hung the dress back on the rack.

‘Fecky brown-noser,’ Moira said out the corner of her mouth to her big sister before holding out a black cocktail dress just above the knees. ‘What about this then?’

‘Definitely warmer, Moira, but I think we’ve still room for—’ Whatever Maureen had been about to say fell away as, like a moth to the flame, she zeroed in on a shimmering swathe of fabric. It was a rose between thorns.

‘Ah, no, stand back,’ Moira muttered, flattening herself against the rack. ‘She’s got that look.’

‘It’s that gleam in her eyes. The one she gets whenever she thinks she’s spotted Daniel Day-Lewis in the wild,’ Aisling said and, having no wish to be trampled, she scuttled over to the safety of the fitting room, dragging Roisin and her unborn child with her.

Maureen stampeded over to the object of her desire. She snatched out a silver lamé, full-length gown, hungrily seeking the label, then held the dress to her chest, announcing with the same fervour usually reserved for her Hail Marys: ‘It’s in my size! I knew I could count on you, Ciara.’

Ciara puffed up, pleased with herself, while Aisling whispered to Roisin, ‘She hasn’t done anything except eat her cream slice.’

Maureen made a beeline for the fitting room, and Aisling and Roisin stepped aside as though they were bouncers outside a nightclub.

‘It’s perfect,’ Maureen said, hanging it up. ‘Sure, it’s just what Dolly would wear.’

‘Dolly has a teeny-tiny waist, though, Mammy.’

‘Moira O’Mara, read my lips. You’re skating on thin ice, my girl.’ Maureen wrenched the curtain closed.