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

Chapter 26

‘ Y ou must understand, Maureen,’ Tomasina’s dark eyes flashed, returning to the present as she focussed on her confidante, ‘a pregnancy like mine twenty years ago was scandalous where we lived. Our town was small, like a big village, and people would talk. Mama and I would have been treated badly.’ She shook her head, trying to convey how awful this would have been.

Maureen understood right enough. Sure, look at her own country’s past. The Church and people’s attitudes may have grown lenient in recent years. However, the memories of the Catholic institution and its faithful’s harsh and unforgiving treatment were scored into the psyche of those who'd suffered. Hadn’t she worried about Moira’s unplanned pregnancy, and she’d been a grown woman of twenty-six? Oh-ho, yes. She’d been more shaken by the news than the Pope’s hand, and there’d been none of the calming pranayama breathing on her part; it had been Darth Vader all the way when her daughter conveyed the news. After reaching for the wine bottle in the fridge, her first instinct was to demand Tom make an honest woman of her daughter. She’d been terrified about how Moira, her fragile daughter with the biggest mouth in Dublin’s uppermost south, would cope. Kiera had been the making of her and Tom. Babbies were a blessing, but if she’d come to her as a teenager . . .

‘Leon, the father, he was a boy himself. He’d had his way but wouldn’t want to pay the consequences. Mama told me if my tatús were alive, he would drag me around to the boy’s house and insist Leon do the honourable thing. But I know Leon. He will call me a bad thing and deny being the father. His parents would shut the door in her face, and we would be shamed. I told Mama this, and she began to cry. So many tears. I didn’t know what to do because I couldn’t make it better.’ Tomasina shrugged.

Maureen already had an image of a woman made thin by grief, probably only a few years older than Tomasina was now, firmly in her mind. She pictured her eyes haunted with deep loss, round with shock at her daughter’s announcement. Her hands clasped in prayer before hunching over, sobbing, and leaving the sauce bubbling in the pot to dry up. The poor woman would have wondered what she’d done to deserve losing her husband and having to face dealing with their teenage daughter’s pregnancy alone.

‘Things worked out in the end, though,’ Maureen said, trying to inject a note of cheerfulness into the maudlin atmosphere. ‘Didn’t they?’

Tomasina was lost in her painful memories, however. ‘Mama went to bed eventually, and so did I. The next day, she says Piotr came to her at night and told her what we must do.’

Now, Maureen was lost. ‘Your mammy had a vision of your unborn son?’

‘No, my tatús, he visited her. My father's name was Piotr, too. Mama says she hears his voice as if he is standing in the room with her, and he tells her that this baby is a gift and that she should raise the child on her own. The baby will be my brother or sister.’

It wouldn’t be the first time this subterfuge had taken place, Maureen thought. Sure, in the village of Ballyclegg where she’d grown up, it was common knowledge Maggie Connor’s son, Mick, was her grandson and his older sister, who called in from London on auspicious occasions like birthdays or Christmas, was his mam. Everybody had guessed as much except poor Mick. Still, ignorance was bliss, she supposed.

‘Mama begins telling people that Piotr has left her a wonderful gift. A baby. So many years, they try for another child. “It is a miracle,” she says.’ Tomasina raised her eyes to the ceiling as she said ‘miracle’.

Maureen kept to herself the sentiment of being able to convince yourself of anything if you say it often enough. ‘And you were happy to go along with all of this?’

Tomasina shrugged. ‘The lie had been told. I had no other choice. Besides, I think it is a miracle. A miracle to see my mama eating once more and the colour it comes back to her cheeks.’ Tomasina’s hands went to her own cheeks. ‘It was the best thing for the baby and for Mama.’

And the hardest thing for this poor girl, Maureen thought, wondering over the lengths people would go to to hold their heads up in their community.

‘As the months pass and I begin to get bigger, we are lucky because it is winter. I hide my bulk under my coat, and Mama pads her middle with cushions. I cannot make a noise when the pains come because our walls are so thin. Mama has read books on what to do when the baby is ready and helps me deliver my baby, a boy. My Piotr. She says the birth is an easy one.’ Tomasina’s grimace said she wasn’t convinced of this. ‘When I hold him, I feel so much love. You are a mama. You know this feeling.’

Maureen did; she remembered being overwhelmed with it once she’d got over having given birth to pumpkin-headed babies.

‘Then I hand my boy to my mama. I never regret him. He brought the colour back into our lives and he is loved.’

‘Does Pawel know any of this?’

Tomasina shook her head hard. ‘No. I have never told anyone until now. And, Maureen, he must never know. I have already broken my promise to my mama telling you.’ The younger woman studied her face imploringly.

‘Yours is not my story to tell, Tomasina.’ Maureen would not breathe a word. ‘How did you meet Pawel?’ She’d heard this much of the Polish woman’s story and wanted to know the rest.

The sadness cloaking Tomasina lifted and she smiled. ‘Piotr is six years old the day I first see Pawel, and my son knows me as his sister. It’s not easy for me in this situation. I’m still young and a little na?ve. Sometimes, I badly want to tell him the truth. I know this is selfish, though. Pawel is working on a building site near our apartment bloki. He is so handsome with big muscles,’ she flexed her bicep to demonstrate, ‘and it is love at first sight for both of us.’

Maureen smiled at this.

‘You are smiling. I, too, believe this is a myth until it happens to me. Within six months, we were married. Pawel wants us to move to the city so he can follow his dream of being an illusionist and travelling the world. He has wanted this since he was as small as Piotr, and his parents took him to a magic show. He is a determined boy who studied his craft, practised hard, and performed the tricks even though people tell him it is a crazy job. I agree to move away because I think it will be easier than staying. It hurts to be on the outside looking in, and Mama and I have fought a lot since Piotr was born.’

Maureen could guess the rest of the journey that had seen Tomasina become part of the Dreamweaver illusionist act that brought the couple here to the Mayan Princess eventually. However, she found it hard to believe that Pawel hadn’t figured out the truth of Piotr’s parentage. It was plain to see. Perhaps he had and thought it best to let things lie.

‘Sometimes Pawel gets annoyed at how protective I am over Piotr. He says, “He’s your brother, not your child. He’s your mama’s responsibility.” It is, what is the word?’

‘Ironic.’

‘Yes, it is an ironic thing to say, no?’

Maureen nodded although, personally, she just thought it sad.

The door to the cabin opened then, and the two women swung guiltily toward Pawel. He had a towel draped around his neck and proper gym gear on, not the multi-purpose shorts Donal had opted for. If he was surprised to see his wife with red-rimmed eyes and Maureen sitting in his cabin, his expression didn’t show it as he greeted her. ‘I hear you only just make it back on the ship?’

Maureen was about to reply when she heard her name shouted frantically in the corridor. ‘What an earth? Excuse me, Pawel!’ She pushed past the Polish man glistening with sweat to see Donal marauding past. A panther patrolling the corridor. In his hand was her key tag.

‘Donal, what are you shouting about? I’m here. I’ve been having a girl’s chat with Tomasina.’

‘Oh, that’s just great, Mo. While you’ve been in there,’ he jabbed manically at Tomasina and Pawel’s cabin, ‘I’ve lost another ten years off my life expectancy. That’s twenty years gone in the space of a few hours.’

‘Hold that thought, Donal.’ Maureen ducked back into the cabin. ‘Tomasina, I promise I’ll get Quinn and Tom to check in on Piotr.’ Her reward was a grateful smile and, leaving her to explain what she meant to Pawel, Maureen closed the door on the couple. ‘C’mere to me now, Donal McCarthy, you great big eejit. What did you think had happened to me?’

‘Alien abduction,’ Donal said weakly, only half-joking as the chords in his neck slowly returned to their standard size. ‘I was on a knife’s edge, Mo, after this afternoon’s shenanigans with you and Carole nearly being left behind in Matzalán. You said you’d be half an hour tops, a quick shower, you said. When Niall decided you weren’t coming up on deck and polished off your Blue Lagoon, I panicked and raced downstairs to find you. When I reached our cabin, the door was ajar, the key in the slot, and there was no sign of you. I immediately catastrophised the situation and went to rescue you.’

‘Well, thank you, my hero, but as you can see, I’m grand and sorry I worried you.’ She gave him a squeeze because it was nice to be loved. Then, linking her arm through his, led him back to their cabin. ‘It’s been quite the afternoon, alright. What with Carole and her family issue. Then Tomasina needing a shoulder to cry on because she’s worried about her younger brother.’ She brought Donal up to speed with her plan to pass on Piotr’s details to Quinn and Tom so they could check in on him and hopefully put Tomasina’s mind at ease.

Donal was almost as zen as Maureen after a yoga class by the time he kicked the cabin door closed with his heel. He clasped Maureen by her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘You’re one in a million, Mo. I’m a lucky man. You’ve a special way with people. You could have been a therapist in another life the way they open up around you.’

Maureen smiled. ‘It’s me who’s a lucky woman, Donal. And it comes from years of running a guesthouse. Everybody has a story to tell, and something about temporarily staying somewhere sees people wanting to share what they're holding here.' She placed her hand on her heart. 'I don’t think it's much different aboard a cruise ship.’ Nevertheless, she added ‘Therapist’ beneath ‘Motivational Speaker’ under her growing list of talents.