Chapter 18
Bronagh stabbed a fork into the pork sausage spitting in the pan and deposited it onto the plate she’d had warming in the oven. Then she dished up the mash and greens, repeating the process before carrying dinner through to the living room.
Myrna glanced over at her. ‘Just in time for the six o’clock news, Bronagh.’
Bronagh set the plates down on the coffee table and carefully arranged a tray on her mam’s lap.
They’d always eaten their dinner like this, in front of the news, until Lenny had come along.
With him being gone these past few weeks in a push to get his house sold, they’d slipped back into old habits.
He had a knack for storytelling that saw them eagerly abandon the six o’clock news in favour of sitting around the kitchen table, hanging on his every word.
When he regaled them with tales from his youthful navy days travelling the world, it was as though they were exploring foreign shores from the comfort of their own home.
‘There we go, Mam. Neville Murphy’s finest pork sausage.’ Bronagh placed the meal in front of her.
‘You’re a good girl, Bronagh.’ Myrna reached up and patted her cheek.
It was less than twenty minutes ago she’d called her childish, Bronagh thought ruefully, but she was relieved they’d moved on.
She hated an atmosphere. Nevertheless, the conundrum of her sister’s interference in her wedding wasn’t going to disappear.
Nor was the prospect of moving house going to magically cease being a bone of contention between them.
Right now, though, she was sick to the back teeth of worrying about both and intended to enjoy her dinner.
She was as partial to a pork sausage as her mam.
‘It’s high time your man there stopped dyeing his hair and let himself go grey. Sure, he’s reading the news, not acting in a Hollywood film like Burt Reynolds,’ Myrna mumbled through a mouthful.
Bronagh was wondering where Mam had pulled Burt Reynolds from when the phone rang. Murphy’s law, she thought, given she was in the middle of her dinner. ‘What sort of eejit rings right on teatime?’ She huffed, setting her plate aside and getting to her feet.
‘I bet it’s one of those annoying marketing people wanting to sell you medical insurance or the like.
You tell them from me they’re not to be ringing this time of the evening, Bronagh,’ Myrna called after her, then, seemingly unconcerned whether she could still hear her or not, muttered, ‘Marketing’s got a lot to answer for.
Look at the way they put sanitary pad adverts on in the first ad break of the news now.
Sure, if your poor daddy was alive to see it, he’d be mortified. ’
Reaching the hallway, Bronagh picked up the phone and growled, ‘Hello,’ into the mouthpiece, her voice dripping menace.
‘Bronagh?’ An uncertain voice asked.
‘Lenny!’ A smile immediately lit her face.
‘You didn’t sound at all like yourself just now. Are you sickening with something?’
‘No. I’m fit as a fiddle. I was using my “go away with your insurance and let me eat my dinner in peace” tone. Mam thought, given the time of evening, it was likely to be someone selling insurance, so I’m delighted it’s yourself, Lenny.’
‘I didn’t think about it being teatime. Sorry, love. I’m reverting back to my bad old bachelor habits here. I was going to head down to the chippie when the dinner rush dies down.’
‘Leonard Walsh, you were a perfectly capable bachelor, and don’t be eating too much of the greasy stuff.
It’s not good for you.’ Bronagh doubted pork sausages were the epitome of healthy eating either and decided tomorrow night they’d have something vegetarian for dinner. Beans on toast would do nicely.
‘I’m fed up with it, as it happens, and I suppose I was capable. The navy sets a man up well for the single life, but I wasn’t selling my house then and trying to keep everything shipshape twenty-four seven. It’s not been easy living in a show home these past few weeks.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Bronagh felt her throat grow tight and tears threaten because it hadn’t been easy for her in Dublin either.
‘I miss you, Lenny.’ When he was around, all was right in her world.
Her voice wobbled as she lowered it. ‘There’s an awful lot going on here just now, and I wish your house had a great big sold sticker on the For Sale sign out front.
I want you back here with me and—’ Usually she’d add, ‘Mam,’ to that equation, what with them coming as a pair.
This evening she wasn’t feeling so inclined and let the sentence trail away unfinished.
Leonard didn’t pick her up on the omission, but he sensed she wasn’t her usual bright and breezy self. ‘Did you want me to ring you back? You sound hungry, love.’
He knew her so well, she thought, her heart full, because hungry and upset usually went hand in hand with her.
More often than not, there wasn’t much a custard cream couldn’t fix.
Just now, though, her appetite had deserted her.
‘No. I’d much rather talk to you. I can reheat my dinner in the microwave later.
Besides, Mam’s got the news on. She’ll be tutting over what the world’s coming to and how it’s all doom and gloom while picking apart the newsreaders’ appearances.
You know yourself she’s got it in for poor Bryan and Una. ’
Leonard’s burst of laughter acted like a balm, and Bronagh smiled, instantly feeling better.
‘I miss all of it. I never realised I was lonely before until I met you. This house seems empty now, even though I’ve Bessie. I mean, it very nearly is, but you know what I’m getting at.’
‘I do.’
Myrna’s voice floated from the living room. ‘Bronagh, your dinner’s getting cold, and that colour Una’s wearing tonight is very distracting. It does nothing for her.’
‘I’ll be back in a tick, Lenny. Sit tight.’ The receiver clattered down onto the hallway stand and, poking her head around the living room door, Bronagh said, ‘It’s Lenny on the phone, Mam. I’ll heat my dinner up later.’
Myrna, chasing her sausage around the plate, said, ‘Suit yourself, and tell him I said hello.’ Then, as if she’d suddenly remembered she was out of sorts with him over this moving business, she became lemon-lipped. ‘And tell him I don’t want to be moving. We’re grand where we are, Bronagh.’
‘He’s aware of how you feel, Mam.’ Bronagh sighed, having no wish to enter into that discussion yet again.
‘And you’ll not be wanting to miss Fair City tonight. Remember last night’s cliffhanger?’
‘I do indeed, but you can always fill me in if I’m not finished chatting in time.’ Bronagh closed the door, effectively muting her mam, and told Lenny she was back.
‘Just so you know, love, I’m missing you too. So is Bessie. We’re pining, in fact.’
That softened the frown between Bronagh’s brows. ‘Give Bessie an extra pat and cuddle from me and tell her I’ve some doggy treats with her name on them ready and waiting.’
‘I will. She shouldn’t have to wait too long for them either because, listen, love, I’ve loads to tell you. It’s news that’s not doom and gloom too, I promise.’
Bronagh could hear the excitement underpinning his words as she sank onto the chair beside the telephone stand.
‘Go on.’ She didn’t add that he had no idea how much she needed a lift just now.
Curling her toes, she clenched her hand until her fingernails dug into her palm, hoping to hear the news she was desperate for.
‘I’ve accepted an offer on the house.’
Bronagh fist-pumped the air and sat up straighter. ‘Thank you, Mother Mary. That’s grand news, so it is, Lenny. Who’s after offering on it?’ She held her breath, waiting for the details.
‘A newly retired couple looking to downsize. They viewed it yesterday and told Helen — you know, the listing agent — it was the one for them. I rang you as soon as I signed and Helen left. It’s a solid offer, love, because they’ve already sold and they’re keen for a quick turnaround.
The only condition is a builder’s report, which I’m confident won’t flag any issues.
They should be collecting the keys to their new home in just over a month.
I tell you, Bronagh, it’s a relief it’ll all be done and dusted before the wedding. I feel like I can breathe easier now.’
Bronagh leaned her head back against the wall. It was music to her ears, and she didn’t want to spoil the moment by telling him she wasn’t breathing easy over the wedding. Far from it.
‘Are you still there, love?’
‘Sorry, Lenny. I was digesting it all. It’s brilliant, so it is.’
‘It is that, and I’m nearly finished packing too. I’ve carted a few loads to the dump, and the moving truck’s due to collect what’s left on Monday. I’ll be back with you on Tuesday.’
Leonard had rented a storage container for the belongings they’d deemed worth keeping for their new home.
His sofa was in much better condition than their springy old thing, which wouldn’t be moving with them, and he had the bigger television.
It made sense to keep them and get rid of theirs.
It was a complicated business, downsizing two homes into one, Bronagh had thought more than once, even if they were potentially moving to a larger house than either of them currently lived in. Myrna was making sure of that.
‘There’s no chance of you coming home for the weekend, is there?’ She bit her bottom lip, wishing she didn’t sound quite so whiny. Still, if Lenny was there, Hilary would be less likely to throw her weight around, and she’d be the one who had to sleep on the sofa. That was an added bonus.
‘I’m sorry, love. I need to be here when the truck comes next Monday, and I’ve already booked my ferry. Tuesday will be here before you know it, Bronagh.’
Tuesday felt like a lifetime away.
‘And you know what selling the house means, don’t you?’
Sensing he wasn’t looking for a reply, Bronagh waited.
‘We’ve a figure to work with now for the new house.’
Her heart dropped like a stone. ‘About that, Lenny.’
‘Yes, love?’
Bronagh couldn’t bring herself to take the wind out of his sails and tell him Myrna was still digging her heels in.
He was blissfully unaware of the way things currently stood, both with her mam and the wedding.
She was embarrassed by her mam’s stubbornness and hurt, but she held out hope she’d be able to change her mind before Lenny arrived home next week.
Quite how she’d manage that was a mystery.
As for the wedding, the wind had gone out of her sails where that was concerned too.
She felt flat and, while she wanted to marry Lenny more than anything, she couldn’t summon much enthusiasm for the day itself.
Hilary would have everything bought and booked before she got on the train back to Tramore on Sunday afternoon, and Lenny would assume it was what she wanted.
Bless him, he’d go along with whatever was organised because all he wanted was for her to have the day she’d always dreamed of.
So what was the point in sharing any of this?
It wasn’t like he could change it. Lenny had enough on his plate and, opening her mouth, she lied. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Certain.’
‘Okay.’ He didn’t sound convinced, but he let it go. ‘Bronagh, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew whether it might be feasible, but before I left, I saw a house. I think it could be perfect for us.’
Bronagh felt a creeping sense of dread as his voice grew animated while he talked about the 1930s semi-detached, two-bedroom, two-bathroom house with a conservatory and a south-facing garden that he had, unbeknownst to her, already viewed.
‘There’s a garage for my car, and we could try our hand at a vegetable plot, love.
There’s plenty of room for Bessie to stretch her old legs out the back,’ he gushed.
‘And Myrna will love the conservatory. It’s a suntrap.
There’s a downstairs bathroom for her to use, and we could convert the utility room into a bedroom for her because it’s bigger than the one, she’s in now.
It wouldn't be hard to put a shower in and she’d never have to tackle the stairs again. ’
‘Where is it?’ she ventured tentatively.
As he told her it wasn’t far away—walking distance, in fact, in Ranelagh with the added bonus of being a stone’s throw from the shops—Bronagh thought the house sounded like a dream come true. She also knew that, so far as her mam was concerned, its street address might as well have been Timbuktu.
‘Would you go and look at it tomorrow, love?’
Bronagh snapped to attention. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘I’m amazed it hasn’t already been snapped up. Properties with a garden this central are like hen’s teeth. If you think it’s as perfect as I do, I want you to make an offer.’
‘An offer?’ Jesus wept, she sounded like a parrot, but Leonard was already discussing figures and explaining what the contract needed to be subject to.
Bronagh listened with half an ear while her mind conjured Kevin, the man she’d thought she was going to marry all those years ago.
He’d walked away when he realised Bronagh and her mam came as a package deal.
He’d said he didn’t want a life of always playing second fiddle to his wife’s mother.
And fair play—she could hardly blame him.
She’d never blamed her mam either, but she had resented Hilary for not helping more. Was history going to repeat itself?
Would Lenny, when he realised there’d be no room for fresh starts and a grand new home if Myrna had her way, walk away? He was different, wasn’t he?