Chapter 24
A t this rate, the ship would sail off into the sunset without them, Maureen thought, more concerned about Carole’s phone call, continuing to clock up monetary minutes on her visa card and hating to think what her conversation was costing. Still, what price did you put on family? And if Carole was mending bridges, then it would be worth every penny. The length of the call must mean things were going well because if Carlos wasn’t interested in what his partner's mammy had to say he’d have given her short shrift.
Maureen yawned. The sun made her sleepy, and her legs were aching from all the standing about feeling surplus to requirements. She decided to wait out the remainder of the call a short way down the Malécon on the bench seat overlooking the water. Walking toward it, Maureen barely registered that the flux of passengers returning to the ship had turned into a sporadic trickle. She was more concerned with taking the weight off, and the fine spray of cooling salt water as the surf hit the rocks in front of where she’d planted herself was gratefully received.
Her mind turned to home. It was early days, but she wondered how Roisin was getting on running the yoga classes without her and Donal there to pick Noah up from school when needed. Her eldest daughter's email had said everything was fine, but what was the point in Roisin telling her if they weren't? It wasn't as if she could help being this far away. What about Aisling and Moira? How were they faring with their reliance on their mammy and Donal where last-minute drop-offs of the twins or toddler Kiera were concerned? They'd certainly feel their absence. Perhaps it would give them a better appreciation of how much she and Donal did for them.
Oh, she did miss them! Pooh, too, who Rosemary assured her was enjoying his holiday with her and Cathal. All the emails she’d hungrily scanned today had been full of everyday life in Ireland, which was carrying on as usual. It was a funny thing, life, Maureen mused, suspecting that while The Gamblers, herself and Donal might have stepped out of routine for a short time, they’d step back into it and feel as though they’d never been away upon their return. This was why it was necessary to soak everything up, which was what she intended to do, Maureen thought, scanning the seemingly endless blue horizon.
So deep in thought was she that when Carole finally tapped her on the shoulder, she shot up in the air.
‘Sorry!’ Carole apologised with a pink flush to her cheeks. ‘I seem to be making a habit of startling you. Thank you for waiting for me, Maureen. I’ll probably have to remortgage the house when I get home to pay for that phone call!’
Maureen tried to read her body language for clues and was about to ask how the conversation had gone when a mournful ship’s horn rang out. The words dried on her lips as she exchanged a panicked glance with Carole. Carole lifted her wrist and, squinting against the sun, read the time out loud before springing into action. She grabbed Maureen’s hand, hauling her off the seat and shouting, ‘Run!’
The shuttle was no longer waiting to transport passengers. The two women legged it across the hot tarmac, arriving in a sweaty rush at the gangplank where a ship’s security officer, who’d seen them running toward the boat, waited with a walkie-talkie to escort them on board the Mayan Princess .
‘Sorry,’ Maureen mumbled for what felt like the tenth time, flashing her passport as her bag was checked by the security team, who’d been all smiles as they left the boat earlier but were now surly.
‘It’s my fault,’ Carole said to the unimpressed-looking Access Control Officer, scanning her lanyard and ushering her through.
Maureen felt like a collared criminal suddenly granted freedom as she was swept through the security checks to the freedom of the corridor beyond.
‘Let me do the talking,’ Carole said out the corner of her mouth as a po-faced Donal and Niall stepped forward from the shadows where they’d been waiting anxiously.
Her mild-mannered Donal looked fit to burst, Maureen thought, bracing herself.
‘Jaysus wept, Mo! Niall and I were about to jump ship. You two had us worried sick that something terrible had happened.’ He ran through the list of all possible scenarios, his and Niall’s money being on a rogue wave having swept the two women straight off the Malécon out to sea. ‘I’ve been pacing back and forth here, wondering what I’d tell the family. ‘I left your mammy in Mazatlán with our Australian friend, and they vanished’? 'Whoopsie.’
Niall was tapping his watch as he blustered, ‘Carole, you’re due on in the Atrium in twenty minutes. Talk about cutting it fine, girl.’
‘I think the pair of you just knocked ten years off our life expectancy,’ Donal huffed.
‘Blame me.’ Carole was still trying to catch her breath from their cross-country sprint. ‘The phone call I had to make was important. And I promise I’ll explain it all later but, right now, I’ve a show to do and if I don’t have a quick shower first I’ll be booed off my piano.’
Maureen bent over, hands on her knees, puffing, listening to her Aussie twang, thinking she sounded giddy. Carole was on a natural high from a rush of adrenalin like the cliff divers they’d been watching earlier. She decided this was a good sign, desperate to know the ins and outs of the conversation with Carlos. It would have to wait, however. She also realised her breathable clothes were struggling for air like she was. They were clinging to her sticky skin, and her hair was plastered on her face. A cool shower was what the Doctor ordered. As Carole hurried off to throw herself under hers, Maureen took charge of the situation.
‘Listen, lads, I know I speak for Carole, too. We’re terrible sorry like for worrying you both but her phone call was a family emergency. No, panic’s over, Niall.’ She held up a hand, seeing him spin in the direction Carole had gone, ready to chase after her. ‘She’s got it all sorted out now. And sure, the main thing is we made it back on board.’
‘By the skin of your teeth,’ Donal said, seemingly unwilling to let the matter drop.
‘But we did make it back, and I think you two deserve to relax on the Lido deck and have a cocktail for your troubles. I’ll go and tidy myself up.’ She laid a placating hand on Donal’s forearm. ‘Give me half an hour.’
‘I’m not letting you out of my sight, Mo,’ Donal stated.
‘I promise I won’t disappear on you. G’won with you both, and I’ll have one of those lovely Blue Lagoons while you’re at it.’ She could almost taste it.
Maureen was inserting her cabin key in the door, eager to get her sweaty clothes off, and she was already visualising standing beneath jets of tepid water when a voice called her name. She looked toward its source and saw a puffy-eyed Tomasina peering around her cabin door, beckoning frantically to her.
‘Maureen! I have been waiting for you to return to the ship for hours. I must speak with you!’ she called out, looking decidedly unlike her glamorous stage persona in civvies.
Was she in trouble with Tomasina now, too? Maureen thought. Word spread fast on a ship and, removing the room key, she sighed. Her shower would have to be put on hold for a few minutes while she went to see what had rattled the young Polish woman. ‘Is everything alright?’ she asked, reaching her and seeing by her distressed demeanour that everything was not.
Tomasina broke into noisy sobs but Maureen, who was well-versed in the emotional outbursts of her daughters, knew precisely what was needed. A hug. She swept the young woman up in a sticky embrace and rubbed her back. Now wasn’t the time for the ‘Solider On’ song because something had genuinely upset Tomasina. Instead, this called for her soothing mammy voice. ‘There, there, Tomasina. Things never seem so bad once you share them. What is it that has you all upset?’
‘It’s my little brother, Piotr.’ Tomasina sniffed into Maureen’s shoulder.
Maureen recalled the first conversation she’d had with Tomasina. Piotr, pronounced as ‘Peter’ in her head, had gone to Dublin for work. She’d said he was na?ve, and she was worried about how he’d fare away from home. Maureen felt a pinprick of fear. ‘Has something happened to him?’
Tomasina sniffed louder this time. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know!’
Over the younger woman’s dark head, Maureen saw a face peering through Niall, John, and Davey’s door. The hangdog features belonged to Kevin, the comedian, and Maureen flapped her hand in his direction to signal there was nothing to worry about. Then, deciding this wasn’t a conversation for public consumption, she suggested they go inside Tomasina’s cabin to continue it privately.
There was no sign of Pawel, and the cabin was a mirror image of the one Maureen shared with Donal, only messier. An unfamiliar aftershave mingled with the damp smell of towels. Maureen sank into the chair by the dressing table, leaving Tomasina to perch on the edge of the bed. Her head fell into her hands as Maureen probed again. ‘What’s happened to get you all worked up like so?’
Tomasina raised her head, fixing red-rimmed eyes on her, and spoke up in her halting but good English. ‘I phone my brother like I always do, from Mazatlán; he knows to expect my call.’
Maureen nodded, encouraging her to carry on, thinking this young man was lucky to have a sister who’d taken him under her wing like so.
‘As soon as he answers, Maureen, I can hear something is wrong in his voice, but when I ask him about this he says everything is good. I don’t believe him but he says the same thing he always says.’ She mimicked her brother’s voice, ‘Everything is fine, Tomasina. Stop worrying about me. You are worse than Mama.’ Her voice broke, and Maureen pulled a handful of tissues from the box on the dressing table and passed them to her. Once she’d blown her nose and mustered her emotions, she continued, ‘So I telephone Mama and ask if he has contacted her. No, she says, and he doesn't answer her calls. It is making her worry. We both think Piotr is in trouble. I always know in here when this is so.’ Tomasina placed her hand on her heart. ‘His voice when he says life in Dublin is good reminds me of when he was a little boy and, coming home from school with bruises, he begins to wet the bed at night. He tells us then he isn’t getting, erm, how you say?’ She punched her flat palm several times.
‘Bullied,’ Maureen supplied.
‘Yes, that is the word. This is a lie. So you see why I know something is wrong?’
‘I do. I’m the same with my children. I can tell when the girls or Patrick aren’t being truthful.’ It was their shifty eyes that gave the game away. Just like Tomasina’s were giving her away. It was something she’d said that told her there was more to this story than Tomasina was letting on. Fair play, though: not to say whatever she was leaving out was her prerogative, and Maureen would leave it be.
Tomasina nodded. ‘You are a mama too, Maureen. I knew you would understand. This is why I am desperate to speak with you. Dublin is so far away. I can’t leave the ship and go to him. Mamas's health is not so good these days. She cannot travel. Will you help me?’
Maureen took hold of the younger woman’s hands and squeezed them. ‘Of course I will. I’ll tell you what I’ll do.’ She relayed a simple solution: pass Piotr’s contact details on to Quinn and Tom the next day when they docked in Puerto Vallarta. ‘I’ll ask them to check in on him. They’re good lads. They’ll be happy to help. If anything is wrong, they’ll sort it. He won’t be on his own, Tomasina.’ She hoped Piotr wasn’t involved with the underworld. Perhaps he’d got mixed up with the Polish mafia if such a group existed in Dublin’s fair city. She bit her bottom lip, hoping she wouldn’t endanger her sons-in-law. It was too late now, though. She’d volunteered their services.
Tomasina’s eyes lost their hunted look, and her shoulders slumped, but she must have read what was on Maureen’s mind. ‘Thank you. I promise you, he is a good boy. He won’t bring trouble to your family’s doorstep.’
Maureen heard the words but her eyes had wandered past Tomasina to the small table beside the couple's bed. It was cluttered with a lipstick-stained mug and a stack of books, but the framed photograph had seized her attention. A woman, Tomasina, tenderly cradled a swaddled baby. The penny dropped. The feeling in her heart Tomasina had mentioned was her mother’s intuition. Maureen knew it intimately.
‘He’s not your brother, Tomasina, is he?’
‘Why do you ask this? You think I lie to you?’ Tomasina averted her gaze to the crumpled tissues in her hand, and her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.
Maureen said nothing and, after a long second, Tomasina raised her chin to look Maureen squarely in the eye. ‘I never tell anyone this.’
‘Piotr’s your son, isn’t he?’
Tomasina nodded.