Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
Maura
“It looks worse than it feels,” I say when Geraldine inquires about my face.
She leaves her position behind the cash desk on the men’s floor and comes around to stand in front of me for a better look.
“What in the blue blazes happened to you?”
“I fell down the stairs, can you believe it?”
“Were you drinking?”
“Alcohol? No. Of course not.”
Geraldine laughs. “I’m only pulling your leg, Maura. It’s great to see you.”
“It’s wonderful to see you too.”
Switzers is packed and Geraldine is run off her feet. Not unusual in the run-up to Christmas, but I wish there was more time to catch up with my old friend. There isn’t time to introduce Bernie or reminisce about old times before Dick eyeballs Geraldine.
“I better get back to work. But I’m on my break in twenty minutes, can you wait?”
I look at Bernie and she doesn’t seem to mind the idea. I nod and tell Geraldine we’ll meet her outside the front doors at half past one.
“Perfect,” she says, kissing the air on both sides of my cheeks. She’s never done that before and I’ve no doubt it’s something she’s read about in one of her contraband magazines. A part of me, a big part, is glad to see that Geraldine O’Connell hasn’t changed one iota.
While we wait, Bernie and I buy some dark purple eye shadow that I layer on in the bathroom with the tip of my finger. Bernie says it suits me but I despise it. Not so much the color, but more what it covers up. Next, we pick out some delft. I choose the most expensive set in the shop. Bernie’s eyes are almost watering as I fork out the extortionate amount for fine china that I don’t even like but that I know will satisfy both Christy and his mother this Christmas.
Bernie’s girls are growing restless and they begin to whinge and bicker. It’s been a long morning and they’re tired.
“I know, how about a visit to Santy?” I suggest.
Marie and Elizabeth stop their arguing and look at me. Excitement sparkles in their green eyes.
“A little birdie told me that if you’re very good girls, Santy would like to see you. He’s waiting downstairs in his magic grotto.”
Bernie’s eyes widen like two shiny marbles that seem as if they might fall to the ground when she shakes her head.
“I really don’t think…”
“Oh goody, goody, goody,” Marie says, hopping from one leg to the other. “I can’t wait to tell Santy I’ve been a good girl all year.”
“Me too. Me too,” Elizabeth says, and I’m not sure she fully understands what’s happening.
Bernie tugs my arm and pulls my ear closer to her lips.
“Have you seen the prices?” she whispers. “A visit to Santy is expensive. My girls have never been before.”
“My treat,” I say.
Bernie straightens up and exhales. “No, that’s really not—”
“Please,” I say. “For the girls. And for me. You’ve been so good coming with me today. I don’t think I’d have been brave enough to come alone.”
“All right. Just this once. But no more charity. We don’t need charity.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“San-ty! San-ty! San-ty!” Marie and Elizabeth chant.
Geraldine is late and the girls are completely fed up by the time she meets us outside. I introduce Bernie and her daughters, in order of age. Geraldine gives the girls a lollipop each and they are instant best friends, and Bernie and Geraldine hit it off, too. I haven’t seen Geraldine since my wedding, but we catch up now as if no time at all has passed.
“I must say, I really thought you came in today to tell me you were expecting,” Geraldine says as we head back inside and make our way to the back of the store to find Santy. “But I’m glad you and Christy aren’t rushing into it like most people do.”
Bernie offers me an empathetic smile and tries to not so subtly change the subject.
“Have you worked here for long?” Bernie asks.
“I’m the longest-reigning female employee in the drapery department,” Geraldine says with an unmissable sense of pride. “Everyone else keeps leaving to get married and have babies. That’s why I’m glad you’re not pregnant, Maura. Do it on your own terms, I say. You’re dead right.”
My heart sinks. Geraldine means well, but she’s an expert at putting her foot in it.
Marie and Elizabeth squeal with joy as we reach the grotto and see Santy sitting on his throne in the middle of the floor. I recognize the face in the bright red costume as that of Gerry, the maintenance man, but today I wave and smile and say, “Hello, Santy. We have two very good little girls to see you.”
I pay, and Marie and Elizabeth take turns sitting on Gerry’s knee.
He listens to their tales of good behavior and asks them what they would like for Christmas.
“Fancy dresses for my dolly,” Marie says. “Just like the dresses upstairs. They’re the prettiest dresses I’ve ever seed.”
Bernie’s face is the color of Santy’s beard as Elizabeth chirps, “Me too. Me too. Dresses for dolly.”
Gerry asks the girls to be on their best behavior between now and Christmas and he promises to bring them a lovely surprise. The look on Bernie’s face tells me she’s worried that her girls might be disappointed on Christmas morning. I feel awful for suggesting a visit to Santy after all.
The girls are hyper after that. Geraldine seems to enjoy their loud voices and giggles immensely, and when I ask her if she’s changed her mind about marriage and children in her future, I’m certain I know her answer.
But, as always, she jams her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “Never. Absolutely never.”
We chat for the remainder of Geraldine’s break. And when it’s time to go she hugs us all.
“I miss you,” she says. “Do me a favor and come back soon, eh?”
“I will. I promise.”
Bernie is quiet as we walk across town and toward McCarthy’s butcher’s and her flat overhead. The town is packed with enthusiastic Christmas shoppers, arms laden with brightly colored bags. My own included. Bernie’s hands are empty.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “About Santy and the promises he made. If I had known—”
“Dan will figure something out,” Bernie says. “He always does.”
“You’re a very lucky woman,” I say.
Bernie looks at the bags of makeup and expensive fine bone china dangling from my hands. And she sighs. I wait for her to tell me that I’m the lucky one. People say it all the time. Patients of Christy’s, mostly. Women envy me, married to a clever and handsome man. They wish they had a big house like mine with a south-facing kitchen and not one but two indoor bathrooms. They like Christy’s fancy car and his expensive suits. And men want to be him. They want the status and respect that comes with the title of Doctor. There’s not a man, woman, or child in Rathmines who doesn’t adore Christy.
But Bernie doesn’t say anything. She shifts her gaze toward my black eye that makeup attempts to cover up and shakes her head.
“My Dan is a good man. A great man,” she says. “But I know not all men are. And if there’s ever anything you need to tell me—anything at all—well, you know where my door is.”
I almost begin to cry. I don’t need to tell Bernie anything. Everything I want to say, I suspect she already knows.