Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
Bernie
I’ve never been to Rathmines before. Not because I didn’t want to, but because what would I ever be needing with a place like that? I hear everyone owns a car there and they go on holiday to fancy places like the seaside. Dan’s bicycle does us just fine, and I’ve never owned swimming togs in my life.
“My legs are hurty,” Elizabeth grumbles, after half an hour or so.
“Mine too.” Marie nods.
We’re about halfway, I think, measuring the route in landmarks. The GPO. Switzers. The Iveagh Gardens.
Elizabeth jams her hands on her hips and stomps a single foot. “I wants to go home.”
I take a deep breath and try not to swear. I slide Alice to the top of the pram, taking care not to wake her. Then I lift Elizabeth and settle her in the empty space I’ve created.
“Don’t wake your sister,” I tell her.
Elizabeth nods, keeping her knees tucked under her chin, folding herself like an envelope to fit in the cramped space. Marie looks up at me with round, teary eyes.
“I’m sorry, love. I’ve no more room. But you’re a big girl now.”
“Just a minute,” Maura says, and then she dashes out of sight.
She reappears from a corner shop with two red lollipops and offers one each to Elizabeth and Marie. Elizabeth snatches hers quickly and shoves it in her mouth.
“Yummy,” she says, as a sugary dribble trickles down her chin.
Marie is less sure. She eyes Maura with trepidation.
“It’s all right,” I say. “You can take it.”
“Thank you,” Marie says at last.
We continue walking. Every so often I catch Maura watching the baby sleep. I wonder if she knows she touches her stomach each time.
“How far along are you?” I ask.
“Erm, another mile or so. I can carry it the rest of the way if you need to turn back.”
She bends down ready to lift the meat off the tray under the pram. I’ve never met anyone like her before, so reserved and polite. I bet her manners got her places in life. And I wish I could be more like her. Better able to keep my gob shut when needs be.
“Another mile is fine,” I say. “We’re enjoying the walk, aren’t we, girls?”
“Mm-hmm,” the girls say in unison.
Tiredness is painted on Marie’s face. Her cheeks are rosy and her feet clip-clop alongside me. But she sucks her lollipop contentedly and she doesn’t complain. The sugary treat is a fraction of its original size and her tongue has turned bright red. She takes great satisfaction in sticking it out and pointing it toward her sister, who squeals with joy.
“It’s red. It’s red.” Elizabeth giggles.
“Hush. Hush, don’t wake the baby,” I say.
“They’re just wonderful,” Maura says, beaming with happiness as she watches my daughters. I suspect she is trying to envisage her future child at Elizabeth’s or Marie’s age.
I ask my question again, this time looking directly at her stomach so there can be no confusion.
“How far along are you?”
“Oh.” She blushes and stares at her feet. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been around the block a few times. You learn to spot these things.”
“It’s not for certain yet,” she says.
There’s so much longing in her voice, and I envy her soon-to-be baby. So wanted, with a prim-and-proper mother and a doctor father. A sharp pang of guilt stabs me like a physical pain. The poor baby growing inside me is much less wished for. I cried for three days when my monthlies were late, and Dan couldn’t stomach a decent meal for a week when I told him.
“Another mouth to feed,” I had said.
“We’ll figure it out, my love. Don’t you worry.”
Dan would figure out the answers to all my problems if he could. Bless him. But some problems there’s just no solving. Like two healthy adults making babies.
“I’ve been hoping for this for a long time,” Maura says. “The days can be very long at home on my own. My mother says I should enjoy the peace and quiet but I’m ashamed to admit that I’m lonely.”
Envy is the last thing Maura needs right now, but nonetheless, I can’t keep the look off my face. I’ve never known a quiet home. I’m the eldest of seven. Some of my younger siblings were still children when I moved out to marry Dan. No sooner were Dan and I walked down the aisle than Marie was in my belly. The nine months when it was just the two of us as we waited for Marie were a gift that I will always cherish. I love the bones of my girls, but every so often I long for some peace and quiet.
“How late are your monthlies?” I ask.
Maura jolts upright as if I’ve hit her with a hot poker.
“Excuse me?”
I stare at her. I know she heard me.
“Look, I’m no doctor like your husband or nothing, but do you want to know the way I see it?”
Maura stares back at me with a look that tells me she’s not so sure she wants to know. But I’m going to tell her anyway.
“You did what needs to be done with your husband, yes?”
She inhales sharply.
“Grand. That’s step one. Now, your monthlies are nowhere to be seen. Step two. You don’t need no fancy doctor to tell you step three. A baby is in there. That’s just how it is.”
“Do you really think?” she says, and I wonder how anyone can make it this far into life and still be so full of sweetness and innocence.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-six, closer to twenty-seven.”
“It’s a little old to only be starting,” I say. “But by the sounds of it, you’re on your way. I’ve a friend who was married a year and nothing. Then all of a sudden, twins. She’s been pregnant every year since. She has six kids now and she’s my age. I’m twenty-six too, by the way. I’d say she’ll have an even ten by the time she’s thirty.”
“Oh, I don’t think I want ten,” she says, with a girlish giggle. “One is just fine for now.”
“Eh, I don’t think that’s how this works, love.” It’s my turn to laugh, and the way Maura looks at me tells me she doesn’t find it funny anymore. “Sometimes there’s just no choosing how many he puts in there. And I’m not talking about God, you know.”