Chapter 2
Maureen O’Mara was making her way down the hill toward Howth’s village with Pooh trotting by her side.
The leaves on the trees overhanging the footpath were turning and beginning to float lazily down to crunch underfoot and they both had a spring in their step.
Pooh, because he was off to see his friend Rosemary Farrell and Maureen for a few reasons.
One of which was because she was soon to become a grandmother for the eighth time thanks to Roisin and Shay.
She counted Donal’s daughter Louise’s two children as part of that equation and adored being a nana to all of them.
Donal had offered to drop her down in the village on his way over to his niece’s, who’d bought an old house in need of rewiring.
He was officially retired as an electrician but liked to keep a hand in, especially when it came to friends and family.
Maureen, however, catching sight of the blue sky from the living room, where she could also see a sliver of sea, decided she’d like to walk.
She was off to a morning yoga class and was dressed accordingly in her Mo-pants and pink jacket with the Bendy Yoga Ladies emblazoned across the back.
The jacket was a multi-tasking, hard-working piece of clothing given it served to market Roisin’s business and ward off the autumnal freshness of this Howth morning.
A while ago Roisin had moved from England home to Ireland with her son Noah to be with her partner Shay.
The move had come about when her ex-husband, a chinless fecker if ever there was one, something all the family agreed on, had taken a job in Dubai, leaving Roisin free to leave London.
Rosi and Shay had set up house not far from Maureen and Donal and Maureen had helped her eldest daughter realise her dream of opening a yoga studio.
This meant she was a major shareholder in Howth’s Bendy Yoga Studio.
A role she took seriously, never missing a moment when it came to what she called, ‘the smart marketing.’
She was enjoying frequenting her daughter’s yoga classes once more having done her best to stay lithe and limber while she and Donal had been singing for their supper aboard the Mayan Princess Cruise ship.
Maureen sang and played the tambourine in her live-in-manfriend-for-life Donal’s Kenny tribute band, The Gamblers.
The yoga sessions on the Mayan Princess had been run by Christie the Director of Entertainment, who like Maureen’s jacket was a multi-tasker. They weren’t a patch on Roisin’s classes, however. Nor had the tips she’d tried to pass on been well received.
Roisin hadn’t been receiving her tips well since she’d been home either.
Her daughter’s pregnancy was what the doctor termed ‘geriatric’ and it was important as she neared the nine-month finish line she didn’t run herself ragged.
She’d told her she should be sleeping on her left-hand side to improve circulation and wearing the compression socks too.
This information had been imparted with love and received with a roll of the eyes and sigh.
Herself and Donal had been helping out as much as they could since they’d arrived home and at least Rosi had had the sense to take on a local woman, Sarah, qualified in yoga.
It meant she could take her foot off the gas, so to speak, and leave the afternoon classes to Sarah.
All things considered, for a geriatric Roisin was glowing with rosy-cheeked health.
As for Maureen, well she couldn’t wait to meet the little one.
She was looking forward to seeing Noah with a little brother or sister too.
The responsibility of being a big brother and setting a good example for his younger sibling would be the making of him, she’d told Rosi last time he’d been naughty.
Yesterday as it happened. Rosi had rung up and told her the teacher had come marching out to the school gate where she was waiting to relay her son’s latest misdemeanour.
(Putting an earthworm dug up at lunchtime down the toilet immediately after another boy had been and done his business then telling him he had worms. The poor child had been beside himself).
Mind, hadn’t she high hopes Patrick would shine as a big brother when Roisin had come along. She’d not told Rosi about him having dropped her. Ah well, no harm done. She’d turned out grand and you’d barely notice that eyebrow twitching thing these days.
Yes, she was blessed so she was because being a grandmother was a wondrous thing.
You got to enjoy all the nice bits then give them back to their mammies and daddies worn out and scratchy.
It made up for the grey hairs your children gave you!
Grandchildren gave you a new lease of life too.
Just this morning Donal had said if there were to be a glamorous granny competition in Howth then Maureen was sure to wear the crown.
Never mind he’d an ulterior motive. He’d been hoping she’d tell him where she’d hidden the fancy box of chocolates their neighbours, Amanda and Terence, had dropped by to welcome them home.
Maureen was a firm believer in out of sight out of mind when it came to sugary treats and trying to lose a few pounds.
‘We’ve to remove the temptation, Donal,’ she’d said.
The daily access to a buffet on the Mayan Princess had seen them both arrive home with more of themselves to love. Accordingly, the chocolates had immediately been placed out of sight and were off limits until they’d shifted the extra cuddly centimetres they were both sporting around their middles.
Donal had only just finished his bowl of Special K when he’d tried to wheedle where the chocolates were hidden out of her this morning.
It was far too early to be sampling Thornton’s finest, she’d told him in no uncertain terms, but he’d said he’d a craving for something sweet and shot her that Kenny Rogers come-hither look.
That was another reason she’d a spring in her step this morning.
Afterward, she’d made him close his eyes while she fetched the box from where she’d hidden it beneath her smalls in the top dresser drawer.
He could have one, she’d said, and she’d tried not to be annoyed when after eyeing the selection card for an age then waggling his fingers over the tray like he was casting a magic spell, he’d stuffed a strawberry cream in his gob.
Strawberry cream was her favourite and everybody knew there was only ever one in a box.
The Turkish Delight came in a poor second and she ate it watching Donal enjoy his chocolate with the sort of relish you saw people smoking a cigarette in bed with on the television after bedroom shenanigans.
Still and all, strawberry creams aside, Donal was a good man and they’d a grand life together.
An acorn pattered to the ground in front of Maureen.
Autumn was her favourite season and as much as she’d loved hers and Donal’s time aboard the Mayan Princess, she was glad to be home.
He was too, with all that day-in, day-out sunshine being an anomaly for an Irish couple used to four seasons in one day.
‘New friendships and golden memories were made cruising up and down the Mexican Riviera, Pooh. I’d not have missed a single second of our time at sea with the lads.’
The lads being the rest of the Kenny Rogers tribute band.
She mulled over that statement for a moment.
‘Okay, so I might have missed the banging head after the Tequila tasting tour, and the suspected norovirus outbreak which, as it happened, was a flash in the pan. But sure, you know yourself Pooh, every cloud has a silver lining and being stuck in a teeny-tiny cabin with Donal for two days while the crew wiped everything down only cemented how compatible we are. We learned the importance of expressing your feelings. I don’t mind telling you I’m very glad I shared with Donal how annoying his loud gargling of the mouthwash for one whole minute is. ’
Sweet Mother of Divine, Maureen shuddered at the memory of the precision-timed gargling after eating emanating from the teeny-tiny bathroom.
By the second morning of close quarters, it had taken every ounce of her self-control when Donal neared the fifty-second crescendo mark not to pick up that bottle of Listerine and jam it somewhere Listerine had no business being.
‘Relationships are all about compromise, Pooh, and Donal’s cut his gargling time down by thirty seconds. We emerged from our cabin when the all-clear was given holding hands and victorious. Not everybody fared so well.’ She added darkly.
When she’d relayed the norovirus scare story to Moira, Aisling and Roisin they’d laughed and said she made it sound like they were exiting the Big Brother House. She’d told them a cabin lockdown was no laughing matter.
‘And did I tell you it was me who played cupid with Niall and my Australian entertainer friend Carole?’
‘Ruff.’
Taking that as a no, Maureen continued.
‘I could see they were both lonely and even though they might not have known it, looking for love. I gave them a gentle nudge in the right direction and they bonded over their admiration of Captain & Tennille music. Now Niall’s only gone and signed on for another three months at sea to be with Carole.
Apparently, their Captain & Carole tribute act is going over very well.
I never knew Niall was nifty on the keyboard too.
It does mean we’ll have to crack on with holding auditions for a new guitarist, though. ’
‘Ruff.’
‘Oh, now, would you look at that, Pooh.’
Pooh cocked a leg instead of an ear as Maureen pointed out a squirrel darting about in a front garden. She paused to watch it, thinking the bushy-tailed creature made a delightful change from a lizard basking in the sun.
Unfortunately, she'd loosened her grip on Pooh's lead and, seizing his opportunity, he broke free, leaping over the hedge like an Olympic high-jumper with tight curls and four legs.
Maureen followed in hot pursuit, more hurdler than high-jumper, as she cleared the hedge and tried to regain control of the poodle who was yipping and yapping excitedly, chasing the squirrel about.
A woman in a fleecy dressing gown and slippers with a headful of rollers opened her front door after Maureen had done a few circuits of her front lawn to find a squirrel, a poodle and a short Irish woman wearing a pink jacket and very comfortable-looking trousers charging about.
Mercifully there was no bloodshed, with the squirrel using the diversion the woman created to skitter up a tree.
‘I’m terribly sorry. My dog’s after spotting the squirrel in your garden and getting loose,’ Maureen explained, holding onto Pooh like an American cowboy who’d wrangled a cow.
‘It’s not a bother. I was impressed with how you cleared the hedge and that nifty landing lunge just now.
It was like watching a gymnast coming off the vault at a competition, only you didn’t do the presentation pose when you landed.
’ She demonstrated by lifting both her arms. ‘I’d have given you a ten on my score card and watching the shenanigans from my front window was loads more entertaining than The Morning Show. ’
A great conversation about Mo-pants and the benefits of yoga in later life ensued while Pooh whined, gazing up the tree at the squirrel. The small grey creature was cocky now as, from the safety of the tree’s branches, it played peek-a-boo with him.
Realising the time, Maureen dragged Pooh away from the tree and his squirrel nemesis, leaving the woman’s garden with the spring in her step restored. She was eager to tell Roisin she’d snared another student for the Bendy Yoga Studio.
In no time, and without further incident, they reached the bottom of the hill.
Maureen strode the short distance down the village’s main street, a woman with somewhere to be, waving out to other locals before reaching the blink-and-you’d-miss-it lane.
Tucked away down there, above Carrick’s shoe shop, was Roisin’s Bendy Yoga Studio.
The sign in the window for Carrick’s was turned to open and, bowling in, Maureen found Rosemary manning the counter while Cathal did cobbler things in his workshop out the back.
You’d never believe Pooh once upon a time was Rosemary’s antagonist, she mused, watching the pair of them behaving like they were re-enacting a scene from Lassie Come Home.
‘I’ll take him for a walk along the sea wall, Maureen.’
Hearing this, Pooh began yip-yapping and chasing his poodley tail with the excitement of it all.
Rosemary made a clicking sound followed by a whistle and Maureen’s eyes bugged, watching Pooh immediately sink down on his haunches.
‘How did you do that?’
Pooh never did what she or Donal told him. He was like one of her children, with a penchant for doing the exact opposite.
Rosemary’s tone was superior as she replied, ‘Pooh and I developed a way of communicating while you were away.’
‘But that was more bird than poodle.’
‘Dogs are adept at recognising patterns and tones.’
Maureen whistled and clicked, but Pooh stayed where he was, staring at her like she’d lost the plot.
It was infuriating.
Ever since they’d returned home, Rosemary had been rubbing in how well behaved he’d been for her and Cathal. She’d told Donal that while it had been very good of Rosemary and Cathal to look after Pooh for them, the arrangement had only ever been temporary and ownership was nine-tenths of the law.
He was their dog, not Rosemary’s and Cathal’s.
‘It’s not what she says, Donal,’ Maureen had explained. ‘It’s how she says it with that pompous “I’m a Crufts contestant” face on her.’
Footsteps running up the adjacent stairs reminded her she’d somewhere to be and, giving Rosemary a tight-lipped thank you for looking after ‘my dog’, she left them to their whistling and clicking.