Page 105 of The Last Love Song
When she’d lived here, she’d hardly been able to wait to leave for her new, exciting life with Con in London. She’d thought Ballymore dull, the people insular. Back then, Sorcha could not understand why anyone would want to live out their life here.
But now, there was something comforting and secure about its unchanging, quaint nature.
‘That’ll be five pounds, thank you now, Sorcha.’ The taxi stopped in the square in front of her parents’ house.
The familiarity of a stranger using her first name was strikingly different from the impersonal attitude of London.
The taxi driver got out, opened the boot and placed her suitcase on the pavement.
‘There you go, and a pound for your trouble.’
‘That’s grand altogether. Thank you. Have yourself a good stay.’
Sorcha smiled ironically. ‘Thanks. Goodnight.’
As the taxi drove off, Sorcha picked up her suitcase and walked to the front door of her house. She rang the big brass bell.
A few seconds later the door opened.
‘Sorcha! Sorcha! Oh, I can hardly believe it’s really you.’
Her mother pulled her into her arms. Sorcha dropped her suitcase and returned the hug. When they pulled apart, their eyes were full of tears.
‘Come in, come in.’ Mary picked up the suitcase and walked up the stairs.
The smell was so familiar – brass polish and disinfectant, liberally applied in the hall every other day on the doorknob and tiled floor. For a moment, everything spun around her and Sorcha caught the banister to steady herself.
Mary stopped and turned around.
‘Are you all right?’
Sorcha nodded. ‘Fine, Mammy.’
‘Your daddy’s in there, but we’ll share a tot of whiskey before we go in to see him.’ Mary had reached the top of the staircase and was indicating the dining room.
Mary left Sorcha’s case outside the kitchen, ushered her inside and closed the door firmly behind her.
‘Now, let me look at you.’ She smiled as her eyes ran over her daughter. ‘I think, Sorcha O’Donovan, that you have grown into a real beauty.’
‘And you don’t look a day older yourself,’ lied Sorcha.
‘Do I not? Well, it’s kind of you to say, but I know the years have not treated me kindly.’ Mary smoothed down her dress over her bulging hips. ‘Sit down, sit down. I’ll pour us both a drink.’
The bottle was on the table, a third empty. Mary filled up two glasses and passed one to Sorcha.
‘Well, ’tis an ill wind, as they say. I lose a husband but my precious daughter returns.Slainte.’ Mary raised her glass and took a large gulp. ‘Ah, there’s no doubt it helps calm the nerves, but I’ll be langers if I have much more.’
‘And you have every right to get a little tipsy, Mammy. The shock must have been terrible.’
‘It was, it was. Sean Moloney, the young guard, arrived at my door last night to tell me what had happened. The doctor had been called, but there was nothing he could do.’ Marygave a little hiccup and blushed. ‘Excuse me. I’m not used to the hard stuff. So, they brought him back here and John the undertaker arrived first thing to measure up. I put him in his best Sunday pinstripe suit and chose a cedarwood coffin. I’ve spent the day opening and closing the door. You know how it is here. The whole village arrived to pay their respects. I ran out of sherry at lunchtime and had to run to Nora Connolly’s to get some more.’
‘You seem to be coping very well, Mammy.’
‘Thanks be to God, it was quick. That’s what people have said to me. I don’t think he would have known what was happening.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
Mary took another gulp of whiskey, which left her with an empty glass. ‘Want a top-up?’
