For Once In My Life

Chapter 8

The Sandycove Community Hub met in the hall attached to the church at the end of the village. The room, which was the size of a badminton court, was heaving with Sandycovers, everyone talking in loud voices, while small children raced in and out of the adults’ legs.

Shazza turned to Kitty. ‘I’ve just seen Sandra Byrne, she’s going for election for the council, next month. I’ve been trying to get a word from her for weeks… I’ll be back in a sec.’

Through a hatch in the small kitchen, a red-faced woman was staring at the knobs on a tea urn as though it had defeated her. It was Edith Waters.

Kitty had been a Girl Guide years ago and had once won a tea making badge by making the most cups of tea which their leader had deemed ‘drinkable’ in an hour. She had made eighty-three of them and was proudly awarded her badge, which Catherine duly stitched on her sleeve that evening. Making tea was one way she thought she could effectively help out – the rest was too chaotic for words.

‘Can I help?’ she asked, stepping into the kitchen.

‘My God, you’d think by my age I would be able to work out how to boil some bloody water!’ said Edith. ‘Why do they have to put knobs and buttons and you have to input your bloody vital statistics as well as star sign and dietary preferences before you can get anything to work these days? And I’m about to be strangled by my own scarf!’ She wrestled a green silk scarf over her head and threw it to one side on the stainless-steel counter. ‘There! Now, do you know how to work one of these tea things? What happened to just “on” and “off”?’

The tea urn was like something out of Star Wars, with flashing lights, timers and unnecessary buttons. Kitty pressed a few at random and, then, there was a slight rumble and the urn seemed to be on ‘boil’ mode.

The older woman smiled. ‘Edith Waters,’ she said, holding out her hand to shake. ‘I have the haberdashery… but you’re not a sewer or a knitter. You’ve never darkened my door, have you?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I’m not creative,’ she replied. ‘Well, not in that way. I work in marketing, so that’s creative, but that’s just words and thoughts. You take a sentence and work at it until it’s perfect.’

‘Sounds the very epitome of creativity,’ said Edith, approvingly.

‘I’m Kitty. Catherine O’Sullivan’s daughter…’

‘Ah! Catherine! I knew I knew you… you’re just like her, so you are.’ Edith looked straight into Kitty’s eyes. ‘And there’s a touch of your father in you, as well, if I am not mistaken…’

‘I’m nothing like him,’ said Kitty.

The woman gave her a look.

‘I’m Shazza Keegan’s best friend,’ Kitty went on, not wanting to talk about her father. She hated all these uncomfortable feelings, the gnawing sensation increasingly omnipresent these days.

‘Ah! Sharon! Now there’s a girl after my own heart,’ said Edith approvingly. ‘I hope she’s moving on from that dreadful man. I remember once, many lifetimes ago, having to recover after the end of a relationship. I had to pick myself up, dust myself down and glue myself back together again… ’twasn’t easy, I can tell you, but the things that matter rarely are. I’m only on tea duty to get away from the chaos,’ went on Edith, now opening packets of biscuits and funnelling them straight onto plates, as Kitty quickly began arranging them in neat circles.

‘So am I,’ said Kitty. ‘It’s madness out there.’

‘The problem with life,’ went on Edith, eyeing the perfectly arranged biscuits, ‘is that it’s messy. You can’t sweep it all up and smooth it out. You have to learn to love its rough edges and all the cracks and crevasses.’ She turned to Kitty. ‘Because it’s in the cracks where the gold is hidden.’

Kitty laughed again. ‘I prefer nice clean surfaces,’ she said, taking a sheet of kitchen paper from the roll and quickly wiping away some biscuit crumbs. She turned back to Edith. ‘Now, what about cups? Where are they hidden?’

‘Over there,’ said Edith. ‘In the top cupboard.’

As Kitty opened the door, several cups dislodged and nearly fell out, as though the last person had closed the door on a Niagara Falls of crockery. And Kitty suddenly felt happy – here was something she could tidy. A problem so easily solved. And there weren’t too many of those around. ‘I’ll have a quick sort out,’ she said. ‘Won’t take me long.’