Chapter 33
‘Bronagh, you want to see what that eejit reading the news has done to his hair tonight. I’m beginning to think it’s a toupee he’s after wearing,’ Myrna announced as Bronagh stepped back into the front room.
‘Mam, would you mind turning the television off for a minute?’
‘But the news is on.’ Myrna looked at her daughter as though she’d grown a second head.
‘Please, Mam. It’s important.’ Bronagh sat down on the edge of the sofa, clasping her hands in her lap as though she were at a job interview.
‘Should I be worried?’ Myrna glanced at her, suddenly anxious.
‘You’re looking very serious, so you are.
’ She aimed the remote at the television and pressed the red button.
The screen was swallowed by blackness. Then, turning to face her daughter, she said, ‘Well, come on then. Out with it. Who’s sick?
Is it Lenny? You were on the phone to him just now, weren’t you? ’
‘Mam, nobody’s sick and it’s not bad news I’ve got to tell you, but I need you to listen because I’m going to start at the beginning, all right?’
Myrna gave a cautious nod.
This time Bronagh told the story coherently. She started with Lenny ringing to say his house had sold and that, now they had a price to work with, he’d wanted her to view a house he'd spotted in Ranelagh.
Myrna didn't interrupt once, but every time Bronagh glanced up at her, her mam's mouth seemed to compress a little more.
By the time Bronagh was gushing about the house and its garden, with enough room for a pony, it had become little more than a thin line.
Bronagh suspected she'd been about to ask what on earth they'd want with a pony, seeing as she opened her mouth, but she rushed on to the moment Roisin had cried out that she was having the baby.
Myrna's eyes became as round as the 'O' of her mouth as Bronagh described how Maureen had taken charge, despite later admitting she'd been terrified by the unexpected midwife role she'd been thrust into; how Aisling and Moira had supported Roisin; and her own role in ringing the ambulance and Noah's school so arrangements could be made for him.
'I was there, Mam, cheering Rosi on when she gave that final push and Luke was born.
It was a miracle. It really was.' She wiped at her eyes before taking a steadying breath.
'Then the ambulance arrived and, when we went outside to see them off, I realised the house was meant to be ours.
It dawned on me that what had happened was a sign.
So I made the offer Donal and I had agreed on and Jeremy, the estate agent from Noonan's, rang earlier to say it had been accepted. Number 16 Cullingford Drive is going to be our new home as of the thirtieth of October.’ Bronagh unconsciously tried to convey how much she meant what she was about to say with her body-language and eyes.
‘Mam, Leonard and I would very much like you to come with us, but either way, we will be moving. '
Myrna's face was inscrutable.
Anxiously Bronagh began babbling about the enormous utility room and how it would make a grand bedroom; how they'd install a downstairs shower; accessible loos; the conservatory—The words tumbled out like the contents of an overturned shopping bag, and she only stopped when she realised Myrna was slowly shaking her head.
Bronagh rubbed her palms over the wrinkled folds of her skirt, bracing herself for the inevitable. 'I'm not going anywhere.'
'I'm so sorry, Bronagh.'
That wasn't what she'd expected. Her head snapped up. 'Sorry about what, Mam?'
'Being a selfish old woman.'
'You're not.' This wasn't going at all as she'd imagined. Bronagh stared at her, her heart suddenly aching at the sight of her usually feisty mam sitting there looking so small and hunched.
'Oh yes, I am. I've done you such a disservice over the years.' Myrna's voice trembled. 'Listening to you talking about Roisin and babby Luke just now made me see everything clearly. I ruined your chance of happiness, and of being a mam yourself.'
‘What are you talking about?’ Bronagh shook her head.
‘It’s my turn to speak now. Let me say my piece.’
Bronagh closed her mouth, tilted her head to one side and braced herself for an argument.
‘Kevin walked away because of me. Three’s a crowd and all that. I realised it at the time, Bronagh, but I never said a word because I was frightened of being left on my own. I should have told you to get on with your own life and that I’d manage, but I didn’t. And for that I’m very sorry.’
‘Oh, Mam. It’s not your fault. We’re a team, you and me, and Kevin wasn’t the man I thought he was. I had a lucky escape! As for children of my own, well, God had another plan for me, and that was Lenny. I wouldn’t change a thing. So don’t ever let me hear you say any of that again.’
But Myrna wasn’t finished. ‘And I’ve been behaving terribly over this moving business when I should have been grateful you were prepared to take me with you.’
‘We’re family, Mam. We look after each other. It’s what we do. I love you, you know that, and Lenny loves you like his own mam too.’
Myrna raised her watery gaze to meet Bronagh’s.
‘I understand why you don’t want to leave. All your memories are here.’
Myrna sniffed, picked up her needles and began casting on with the blue wool. She’d never needed patterns. She had a gift for knitting. ‘Perhaps it’s time to make some new memories.’
Bronagh held her breath.
‘There’s a conservatory, you say?’
‘There is.’
‘I’ve always fancied a conservatory.’
‘Oh, Mam.’ Bronagh sprang from the sofa and wrapped her in a tight hug.
‘Mind my knitting,’ Myrna protested, although there was little conviction behind it. ‘Will you and Lenny take me to see it so I can get a feel for the place?’ Her voice was muffled against Bronagh’s blouse.
‘We will. And when Lenny gets home next week, we’ll have a proper celebration. Champagne, cake, the works. Thank you, Mam.’
Only then did Bronagh realise just how enormous the worry she'd been carrying around had become as it lifted from her shoulders.
Myrna gently patted her daughter's back. ‘Don’t be thanking me. I’m the one who should be thanking you and Lenny.’
They drew apart and, noticing her mam’s fingers twitching towards the remote, Bronagh smiled. ‘Go on.’
The television flickered back to life.
‘Your woman reading the news does not suit pink,’ Myrna declared.
Bronagh laughed. ‘I think this deserves something special for dinner, don’t you?’
‘A nice pork sausage?’
‘I think we can do better than that. How does a one and one sound?’
‘Ooh, cod and chips. My favourite.’
‘I’ll nip down the chipper then.’
Bronagh headed out to the hall and lifted her coat from the hook. She grabbed her bag and had one foot out of the door when Myrna called after her.
‘Don’t forget—loads of vinegar!’
‘I won’t, Mam. Back soon.’
As she set off along the street she'd never imagined leaving, Bronagh found herself wondering what their local chipper would be like in Ranelagh.
She reached the end of the street and turned left towards the shops.
A magnanimous feeling stole over her because, with the turn the evening had taken, she decided that if Myrna could agree to the move, then she could go with the flow when it came to having Hilary as her matron of honour.
After all, all relationships—not just marriages—were about compromise.
Still it was an enormous compromise on her part, she thought as she pushed open the door to the brightly lit chipper.
Unless...