Page 89 of An Irish Summer

“You don’t have to,” Collin said, doing the same.

“I want to.”

An apology crossed his face, and I tried to communicate that I understood without either of us having to speak. He did warn me they were a bit tough, but I didn’t expect unpacking my uncertain future with near strangers before we even sat down to eat.

“Chelsea, grand, come here,” Aileen said as soon as I entered the kitchen. “Have you made custard before?”

“I’m not even sure I’ve even eaten custard before, if I’m honest.”

“No bother,” she said, laughing. “I’ll teach you.”

The kitchen already felt like much safer ground. While Aileen’s maternal nature probably drove Collin insane, it felt like a warm blanket to me.

“We’re going to cheat a bit here,” she said, “because judging by the sound of the living room, we need to crack on.” When I didn’t answer right away, she rested a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about Niamh. I’m sure Collin gave ya a warning, but she’s been edgier than usual lately.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I said. “Really.”

“Nah, it’s a lot, I know. Our mam isn’t around much, as I’m sure you know, and it’s hit Niamh a bit harder than the rest ofus, even as an adult.” As she spoke, she produced a red canister from the cabinet and fished around the powder inside for a plastic scoop. “Here,” she said, handing me the scoop and gesturing to the powder. “Drop two scoops of this into that bowl there.”

I did as I was told, trying to figure out if there was a way to ask about their mother without seeming nosy. Fortunately, Aileen didn’t need any prompting.

“She’s got distant relatives all over the country,” Aileen continued. “Our mam, I mean. Aunts, uncles, cousins. We’ve not met most of them. And she does some odd jobs on the road, like. Sales and stuff. Just one of those mams who isn’t really keen on being a mam all the time, that’s all. Been this way since we were weans. Collin and I got used to it, but I’m not sure Naimh ever will. Here, add this jug of milk.”

“That must have been hard,” I said as I stirred the milk into the powder. I watched it turn into a pudding-like texture, thankful to have a task to keep me occupied.

“I don’t blame Collin for leaving,” she said. “It was hard for him to stay here. He felt responsible for everyone, you know? That’s a lot for a kid. So he left for Galway after he was done with school. And he comes home more often than we make it seem. We’re just slagging him off. He’s a good lad.”

“He is,” I agreed, handing her the bowl.

“D’you fancy each other?” she whispered. “I know we’ve all been a bit nosy, but I can’t help myself.” She ran a finger around the side of the bowl, tasting the custard.

“It’s complicated,” I whispered back, hoping he wouldn’t hear. “Honestly, the fancying is the easy part. It’s my impending return to America making it a bit more difficult.”

“If you want my advice, which I doubt you do because youdidn’t ask, it would be to focus on the easy part. Life is already so hard. If you have something easy, you should enjoy it.”

She was right, wasn’t she?

“Like this custard,” she said, handing me a spoon. “Taste. Two ingredients and just a bit of mixing.” I took a bite, letting the sweetness settle on my tongue. “Deadly, isn’t it? And hardly any effort at all.”

“I see what you’re getting at.” I smiled. “Very clever.”

“Listen, Chelsea, you obviously know yourself. You seem terribly clever and I’ve only just met you this afternoon. But I’ve a good feeling about this, and I sense that you do too. I’d hate to see you two get in your own way.”

I looked through the kitchen and into the living room, where Collin and Niamh had clearly made up. They were playing cards on the low coffee table while Cormac changed the record. While it might have looked like a snapshot of the perfect scene, it was just that: a snapshot. I understood what Collin meant when he said home wasn’t stable for everyone. The love in the room was undeniable, but so was the tension, and I imagined returning to that would have been difficult for anybody.

Collin looked up just in time to catch my eye, and his wink warmed me to the core. If Aileen’s warmth was a blanket, Collin’s was a raging fire.

“Roast is on,” Aileen called into the living room, saving me from having to respond. I had thought she’d called me into the kitchen to save me from the budding living room fiasco, but now I realized it might have been to share some insight on Collin. Smart woman. “Come on.” She nudged me, nodding toward the table. “A little food should put everyone to rights. Let’s eat.”

We chatted over one another as we passed heaping serving dishes around the table, taking turns scooping roasted vegetables and pouring gravy onto each other’s plates. “You gotta cover the whole thing,” Collin said as he wielded the gravy boat over a plate that already had more food than I could eat in days. “That’s the proper way to eat a roast.”

“And that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? For the authenticity?”

“Right you are,” he said. “And spending time with this lot is about as authentic as it gets.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Aileen smiled. “Chelsea, spend a little more time with us and you’ll be a proper Irishwoman in no time.”

“Aye, they say it takes falling in love with an Irishman for that,” Niamh said, shoving a piece of a potato into her mouth. Had I started eating yet, I would have choked.

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