Chapter 20
Shay opened the door to Maureen and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
He smelled of something spicy. She sniffed, deciding they must have had one of their vegetarian concoctions for tea.
Rosi had made her try some of that tofu stuff the other week, and it had been like eating flavourless custard.
So long as Noah got his five-plus-a-day and plenty of iron, what they chose to eat was their business, she thought, noting the tea towel slung over her handsome son-in-law's shoulder and his sleeves rolled up.
He and Rosi might not be legally married, but they were as good as, and she'd thought of him as her son-in-law as soon as they'd moved in together.
'Come on in, Maureen. I'm nearly finished the washing up and was just about to put the kettle on.'
'You're a good lad, Shay. I timed that well then,' Maureen smiled as she bustled inside.
She was glad to be out of the cold. The nights were drawing in now and, as Shay closed the door behind her, she let the toastiness of the house warm her up.
It was so quiet compared to the bedlam she'd heard in the background when she'd rung the family apartment earlier.
Rosi, Shay and Noah's house was a tranquil haven, but that would soon change when the baby came.
A tranquil, messy haven, she added, catching sight of the living room.
Her daughter had never been house-proud, despite Maureen's best efforts to drum into her that tidiness was next to godliness.
Or was it cleanliness? It didn't matter.
Rosi had known what she meant. Still, she'd bigger things to worry about than why her daughter insisted on leaving piles of folded washing stacked about the place instead of putting it away.
'Rosi's upstairs reading a story to Noah,' Shay said as Maureen followed him through to the kitchen.
'Go on up if you like and say goodnight.
I'll make us a cup of tea.' A few dishes remained in the drying rack on the worktop.
Picking up the kettle, he poured the hot water into the pot to let the tea steep, then picked up a plate to dry it.
'I will, Shay, but while I've got you on your own, I wouldn't mind having a word about this home birth business.'
'Right.' Shay said slowly, turning his back and putting the plate away. 'Go ahead.'
'I don't think it's a good idea, given Rosi's having what's called a geriatric pregnancy.'
Shay turned back, leaning his rangy frame against the worktop so he was facing Maureen.
'It was Rosi's decision, Maureen. I wanted her to have the baby in hospital initially too, but she says she'll feel more at ease here at home.
At the end of the day, she's the one who's going to be doing all the hard work, so I'm supporting her in her choice.
The midwife's confident it will be a straightforward birth, if that helps. '
'No. Not really.' It was Rosi she needed to drum some sense into, then, Maureen realised. 'I'll have a word with her myself.'
'If you like, but I think you'll find she's made her mind up. She's even hired the birthing pool.'
Maureen had heard it all now. 'A birthing pool?
' Her voice was incredulous and, seeing Shay's nod, she continued.
'She's away with the fairies. The last thing that girl's going to feel like doing while she's labouring is taking a dip.
' Her bobbed chestnut hair swished around her face as she shook her head at the very idea of it.
'I don't understand her. It's not like she's green and doesn't know what it's all about.
Sure, she doesn't have the sense she was born with sometimes.
' Then, remembering Donal's wise words about relaying her concerns calmly, she placed a hand on her heart as though physically pushing everything weighing heavily on it back in.
'I'm worried, is all, Shay. There's a time and a place for pools, birthing or not, and it's not when you're a forty-year-old mother to be. '
Shay shrugged. 'Her decision to stay at home hasn't been taken lightly, Maureen. She's done her research, and it's important to her that she has the birth she wants this time around. I've got to respect her decision.'
One thing Maureen had learned about the business of birthing babies was that, when push came to shove, Mother Nature had the final say.
But she wasn't in the business of pitting her sons-in-law against their wives, so she softened her tone.
'All I care about is Rosi delivering a healthy baby into this world safely. '
'I know you do, Maureen.'
There wasn't much more she could say on the subject and, patting Shay on the arm, she said, 'I'll go and say night-night to Noah, then.'
‘He’ll love that.’
'Yoo-hoo, it's only me,' Maureen called out as she took to the stairs. Peeping around her grandson's bedroom door, she smiled at the cosy scene. Rosi, taking up most of the bed, was stretched out alongside Noah, both of them with their heads resting on a cloud of pillows.
'Nana!'
Her firstborn grandchild raised his head to peer past his mother and clapped his hands. In the glow from his bedside lamp, she could see his face shining with delight.
Nobody was ever as enthused to see you as your grandchild, Maureen thought, basking in his pleasure at her unexpected appearance.
The joy with which your grandchildren greeted you was one of the richest rewards of being a grandparent, she often said to Donal.
Even Mr Nibbles and Stef, Noah's pet gerbils, were scrabbling about their cage in excitement.
Whereas Rosi, having set the book aside, was eyeing her warily—a clue that her sisters had forewarned her to expect a visit.
'Mammy, this is a surprise.' Rosi's tone said otherwise, confirming Maureen's suspicions.
'Can a nana not pop in to say goodnight to her grandson?' Maureen asked, feigning innocence.
'Mummy, can Nana finish the story?'
Rosi heaved herself up and off the bed. 'Of course she can.' She kissed her fingers and, leaning over, pressed them to her son's cheek. 'Night-night.'
Maureen took her place as her daughter padded from the room, finding the spot where Rosi had lain still warm. 'What are we reading then?'
'Another Horrid Henry book. Henry's my favourite. He's great. Perfect Peter is so boring.'
Maureen, familiar with the stories, smiled. 'Nana has another story to tell you first. It's all about a man with a beard.
'Ah no, Mammy, not that dreadful Bluebeard story. He murders his wives,' Rosi called from the bedroom next door. 'You'll give Noah nightmares.'
'Yes, please, Nana, that one. I like scary stories.'
'This one is very scary, but it's not called Bluebeard.'
'Mammy!'
'Stop earwigging,' Maureen tossed back.
Noah snuggled up to her beneath the covers, and she could smell Pears shampoo.
He was wearing the flannelette truck pyjamas she'd not been able to resist buying him and Connor when she'd seen them in Marks.
Her heart was fit to burst, and seeing him stifle a yawn, she decided it was best to keep her story short.
'Once upon a time, Poppa D decided he'd had enough of his beard and, without telling a single soul, not even Nana, what he was going to do, he shaved it off.
Nana was in the kitchen with no clue what he'd done when, with a face all smooth and shiny like the moon, he thought he'd surprise her.
Only, when Nana turned around to see who was standing in her kitchen, all silent and menacing, she thought it was a stranger come to rob them and she screamed.
She screamed so loudly the neighbours banged on the door to see what was going on. '
Noah interrupted. 'Nana, is this a true story?'
'It is, Noah. Shall I finish it?'
'Yes, please.'
'The neighbours—'
'Mr and Mrs Swingers?'
Maureen coughed. 'No, that's not their surname. It's—' Her mind went blank because she only ever addressed them by their first names. 'I can't remember their surname just now, but their names are Terence and Amanda so that’s what we’ll call them.'
'Nana,' Noah said her name with a sigh, as though he were addressing a simpleton. 'I just told you their surname. It's Swingers. Mr and Mrs Swingers,' he added, in case she wasn't hearing him properly.
'No, Noah. I'm quite sure it's not Swingers.'
'Yes, it is. I've heard you call them that loads of times, and if it's a true story you're telling, then you've got to stick to the facts.'
Maureen decided it was time to move things along. 'The point of my story, Noah, is that I don't want you to get a fright like I did when you see Poppa D next.'
'I won't. He's still Poppa D. I'd have thought at your age you'd know it doesn't matter what he looks like, it's what's in here that counts.' Noah thumped his chest.
Out of the mouths of babes, Maureen thought, tears prickling.
'That's what Mummy always says.'
'She's a good head on her shoulders, your mammy. You'd do well to listen to her.'
'Mammy, can I get that in writing?'
'Rosi, I told you to stop earwigging.' Maureen turned to Noah. 'Your mam's got ears like an elephant.'
Noah thought that was hilarious and pitched into a fit of giggles.
'Mammy, you're supposed to be winding him down, not winding him up.' Rosi's footfall sounded on the stairs as she left them to it.
Moving on from her story, Maureen asked, 'How was your day at school?'
'To be honest, Nana, it would've been a lot better if I'd not had to stay in at lunchtime and write a paragraph on why I shouldn't argue with my elders.'
Maureen suppressed a smile. 'And who were you arguing with?'
'Mrs Talley, the teacher who's filling in. I don't like her much. She smells of onions.'
Fair play, Maureen thought, but her grandson needed no encouragement. 'And did staying in at lunchtime teach you that answering back to your teacher is a bad choice?'
'No. Have you not heard of freedom of speech, Nana? You've to stand up for what you believe in, and I don't believe in maths.'
Janey Mack, how was this boy only seven?
He was destined for parliament. Maureen momentarily drifted into a fantasy whereby Noah was telling the minions what to do in his role as Taoiseach of Ireland.
She was standing by his side in all her finery.
A proud Nana. Then, drifting back, she decided that even though it wasn't in her nature to back down from a discussion, now was not the time to debate the American Constitution.
Instead, she picked up the Horrid Henry book and began to read.
She couldn't help thinking Henry, the main character, and her grandson had a lot in common.
Both were lovable; both were naughty but never nasty.
By the time she'd read two pages, Noah's eyes began to flutter, and by the third they were closed.
Putting the book down, she got up from the bed and tiptoed from the room, pulling his door shut behind her.
It was time to have a strong word with Rosi.