Chapter 26
‘It’s still warm,’ Freya said, plonking down in the swivel chair behind the front desk and giving it a few quick spins for good measure.
Bronagh stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘You’re not Kylie in the “Spinning Around” video.’ Then, after giving her a quick rundown of where she was with loading the morning’s bookings into the computer, she left her to it.
Her coat was hanging on the back of the door in the adjacent kitchenette.
Fetching it, she slipped it on while her eyes strayed wistfully to the bag sitting on the worktop.
Patricia had stuffed a few items into it for her to show Maureen.
The peacock coat, as Bronagh thought of the turquoise number Patricia had been wearing when she checked in yesterday, peeked out of the top.
She’d coveted that coat. It had been love at first sight. Patricia wouldn’t mind, would she?
Bronagh glanced down at her boring old woollen coat that had seen her through more winters than she could count.
Trusty it may be, but she couldn’t summon a drop of loyalty for it.
Her gaze flitted back to the bag. She thought about Maureen and her smart marketing.
The best way to sell something, Mo always said, was to showcase it yourself.
Bronagh wasn’t planning on selling Patricia’s things, but she was hoping to sell the idea she’d come up with to put their guest’s eye for detail and skills to good use.
It would give Patricia a purpose and a chance to showcase her talents.
What would her new friend say if she asked to borrow the coat to show Maureen what it looked like on?
It wasn’t like she could ask if she had any objections, given she’d left to see the matinee performance of a play Bronagh had never heard of at the Gaiety.
It had buoyed her to see Patricia had taken their conversation to heart, changing into something with a little more flair than the outfit she’d donned earlier.
Her choice of ruby-red swing coat to keep her warm had looked a treat, and Bronagh had told her she looked a million dollars.
Patricia would say go for your life, she decided, her mind made up.
Discarding her own coat in favour of the peacock number, she struck a pose. Not that there was anyone to see. Still, the coat had the effect of making her stand a little straighter. Picking up the bag with the remaining items in it, she strutted past Freya.
‘That’s new,’ Freya said admiringly. ‘The colour’s gorgeous. It suits you.’
‘Thanks, but it’s not my coat.’
Bronagh explained why she was wearing a guest’s coat, gratified to see Freya begin to nod slowly.
‘I could see there’d be a market for that sort of thing. I think you’re on to something.’
Bronagh felt pleased with herself. The phone interrupted their conversation then, and as Freya answered it, she loitered by the brochures.
It dawned on her that the coat had dampened her misgivings about this house viewing and what her mam would have to say on the matter.
Not that she planned on telling her, although if she were to fall in love with it like Donal clearly had, she’d have no choice.
One step at a time, Bronagh. Time was marching on, she saw, glancing at her watch.
If Moira, prone to tardiness, didn’t show her face in the next minute, she would head outside and, if she wasn’t there by the time Roisin pulled up, they’d have to leave without her.
As though she’d read her mind, footsteps skipped down the stairs.
It wasn’t just Moira who bounded into reception, however. Aisling was close behind.
Moira jabbed her thumb back over her shoulder at her sister. ‘She didn’t want to miss out.’
‘We can all squeeze into the back seat,’ Aisling countered.
‘You don’t mind me tagging along too, do you, Bronagh?
I’ve cabin fever something terrible and I’d like to see this house you’re interested in.
Besides, Quinn owes me for all the fetching and carrying I was doing while he was laid up on the sofa.
He’s not heading into the restaurant until later, so we left him in charge. ’
‘He was hiding under the table we made into a tent with a sheet for the children to play under just now,’ Moira elaborated. ‘They’ll find him,’ she added darkly. ‘They always do.’
‘The more the merrier,’ Bronagh said. ‘We’ll be back around two-ish, Freya.’
‘There’s no rush. House buying is important business, Bronagh. Take your time.’
‘Before I forget, Bronagh,’ Aisling said. ‘If Moira told you I was after eating all the biscuits earlier, it was a lie. We’ve plenty in the tin, only they’re plain old Rich Tea ones and she fancied a custard cream.’
Bronagh shook her head in Moira’s direction. ‘You won’t fool me twice, Moira O’Mara.’
‘That coat’s fabulous.’ Aisling took a step back and appraised Bronagh.
‘Yeah. Good colour,’ Moira agreed.
Bronagh repeated what she’d told Freya, and her idea was met with enthusiasm. There wasn’t time to show them the other clothes in the bag and, as she pushed open the door, Moira asked, ‘Where is this house we’re off to see anyway?’
When Bronagh told her Ranelagh, she said, ‘I went out with a lad from Ranelagh once. Rick the nose-picker. I’ve had a few of those, come to think of it. Nose-pickers, not Ricks, but I do remember him. He had a terrible habit of unpacking his nostrils when he thought I wasn’t looking.’
‘Moira, you had every Dublin suburb covered before you met Tom. There was Dale from Drumcondra the scratcher, Ciarán from Castleknock with the facial tic, and Gerry from Glasnevin who referred to his you-know-what as Gerry Junior.’
‘Don’t be rude, Ash, and she’s making that up, Bronagh, except for Ciarán from Castleknock. He did have a tic.’ Moira pulled a face, then waved at the traffic. ‘Here they are now.’
A boisterous tooting announced Roisin and Maureen’s approach as the car veered in alongside the kerb. Maureen’s face was pressed to the passenger window as she beamed out at the waiting party.
‘Jesus wept, would you look at the state of her? She looks like she’s lost her front tooth and the tooth fairy left her a note instead of a coin,’ Moira muttered to Aisling as she ducked into the back seat.
‘Will you tell her she’s something green stuck in her teeth or me?’ Aisling shot back, scooting in next to her sister.
Bronagh clambered in last and, arranging the bag on her lap, did the honours.
‘Thanks for letting me know, Bronagh. Rosi, you could have told me I had spinach in my teeth.’ Then, muttering, ‘It’s the price you pay for being healthy,’ Maureen flipped the visor down and peered into the sliver of mirror on the back.
Curling her lips back and baring her teeth, she picked the remnants of lunch out.
‘I suppose I could have said something, Mammy. To be fair, though, it was great craic watching the expressions on whoever we pulled up next to at the lights when they caught sight of you grinning at them like the village idiot.’
Moira and Aisling giggled in the back seat as they faffed with their seatbelts.
‘Move your arse, Ash,’ Moira grumbled at her sister. ‘I should have gone in the middle. I’ve the smallest backside.’
‘Bronagh’s managing,’ Aisling said, clicking hers into place.
‘Buckled,’ Bronagh stated for Roisin’s benefit.
Maureen wasn’t letting the spinach thing go.
‘And I was only smiling so they’d not think I was eyeballing them like one of those road-rage people who glare at the drivers next to them at the lights, spoiling for a fight.
Sure, you gun the engine when we’re idling there as if you’re in that old American Graffiti film about to take part in a drag race, Rosi.
And the smiling’s a habit because Donal’s got a terrible fierce look on him when he’s behind the wheel, even though he wouldn’t harm a fly.
I think of it as my feng shui face. It gives off good karma, and a smile costs nothing. ’
Snorts abounded, with Moira muttering, ‘Well, if that’s your feng shui face, I’d hate to see your bad chi one.’
‘And actually, Mammy, that’s not true. A smile does cost because you’ve been banging on about Donal needing a root canal and how the dentists charge daylight robbery rates all the way here,’ Roisin argued.
‘Those hormones of yours have you sounding more and more like Moira every day, Roisin. I’ll be glad when this babby’s born and I’ve got the daughter I know and love back,’ Maureen replied. ‘And why are you fidgeting about in your seat like so?’
‘The Braxton Hicks,’ Roisin replied, but her words were lost amid Moira muttering, ‘Thanks a million, Mammy,’ and Aisling correcting her. ‘It’s road rage, not rage road, Mammy.’
‘Yes, alright. Thank you, Mrs Know-It-All O’Mara-Moran.’
‘What I want to know is what all that tooting was about, Rosi,’ Moira questioned. ‘There’s nothing wrong with our eyes. We could see it was you pulling up. And can you put your seat forward? My legs are up around my ears.’
‘I’d have thought you’d be quite comfortable in that position, Moira,’ Aisling sniggered.
‘Don’t be lowering the tone, Aisling. Bronagh doesn’t want to hear that sort of talk,’ Maureen admonished.
‘I can get my legs up around my ears these days, as it happens,’ Bronagh finally got a word in.
A shocked silence fell.
‘At bendy yoga, like, when we do the happy babby pose.’
Relieved tittering went around Bronagh’s fellow passengers.
‘What did I say that was so funny?’ she asked.
‘Nothing, Bronagh. And I tell you, that pose is no friend of Bold Brenda’s. It’s like a string of fireworks going off, so it is when she grabs hold of her toes,’ Maureen lamented.
Roisin steered them back to Moira’s question as she pulled away from the kerb and into the early afternoon traffic.
‘It wasn’t me leaning on the horn, by the way.
It was Mammy.’ She met her sister’s gaze in the rear-view mirror.
‘And no, I can’t move the seat forward. I can barely fit behind the steering wheel as it is. ’
‘Are we there yet?’ Aisling asked.
It was met with a collective groan.