Page 111 of The Last Love Song
‘Yes. It’s nearly over, Sorcha.’
She could hear the relief in her mother’s voice.
Once they arrived home, Sorcha installed Mary and Father Moynihan in the sitting room with a restorative glass of sherry,while she went into the kitchen to oversee the food preparation. Two of Mary’s friends had been working away since the early morning to provide a feast for the mourners.
Mrs Hurley, whom Sorcha had known since she was a baby, spoke shyly to her. ‘Sorcha, could you possibly pour the sherry? Then Eileen and I can hand it around as people start to arrive.’
‘Of course I can. And as you’re doing such a grand job in here, why don’t I hand it around as well?’
‘Of course, Sorcha. Whatever you want.’
For the next hour, Sorcha did her duty and furnished the assembled company with a glass of sherry or orange squash if they preferred. People she had known since childhood – who had chastised her for almost knocking them over in the street or making too much noise as she played with her friends – now talked to her shyly, as though she was some strange alien being. Their attitude upset her more than her father’s death. It underlined her complete lack of identity and the fact that she didn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
As the sun beat down relentlessly, windows were opened, sandwiches consumed and more sherry sent for from Mrs Connolly’s store. With Seamus properly laid to rest, the men removed their jackets and black ties, the ladies their hats, and everyone began to relax. Sorcha wished they would all go home, but she knew that it was unlikely the last person would leave until late in the evening – and the chances were that they’d be carried out.
The sitting room was stifling. Sorcha’s head began to spin. She needed some fresh air. Her mother was deep in conversation with Georgie O’Hea, one of the town’s shopkeepers, her face flushed from the heat and the sherry. Sorcha determined it was safe to leave for a while. She hurried down the staircase to the front door.
The air outside was cooler, and Sorcha gulped some into herlungs before walking across the road towards the square. She hadn’t even reached the gate when she heard her name being called.
‘Sorcha Mary O’Donovan! Itisyou!’
Sorcha turned around. There, running across the street towards her, was Maureen.
‘Sorcha!’ As she reached her, Maureen opened her now plump arms and threw them around her shoulders. ‘Ah, Sorcha! I was so afraid I might have missed you. I couldn’t get here any earlier ’cos I had no one to mind the kids but...’ Maureen tried to catch her breath. ‘Ah, Sorcha, ’tis grand to see you again.’
‘And you, Maureen. You look wonderful!’
‘Do I? Three little ones and as many stones, but I was never built to be Twiggy, was I now?’ She smiled. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To sit in the square and get some fresh air.’ Sorcha indicated the open first-floor window of her home. ‘It’s hot and squashed in there.’
‘Grand. It’ll give us a chance to have a chat.’ Maureen tucked her arm into Sorcha’s and they walked towards a bench in the middle of the deserted square.
‘So,’ Maureen said as she sat down heavily and patted the seat next to her, ‘tell me everything, right from the beginning. I’m desperate to know how one minute you were with me at the convent and the next you’d run off to England with Con Daly!’ Maureen dug Sorcha hard in the ribs. ‘I was fierce hurt you didn’t confide your secret in me. I was supposed to be your best friend.’
‘I’m sorry, Maureen, really. Things happened so quickly. The only reason I didn’t write was that Con thought it best to make a complete break.’
‘Well, I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to steam open the lettersyou sent to our house to pass on to your mammy. To find out what really happened, like, but I managed to control myself. She never said anything to me when I’d drop the letters round, mainly because your daddy was always lurking in the background.’ Maureen gave a gentle shrug. ‘I suppose I can forgive you. At least it gave us girls something to gossip about. We spent months speculating,’ she giggled. ‘The story went that you were pregnant by Con. Was that the truth?’
‘No,’ smiled Sorcha wistfully. ‘It wasn’t. All that happened was that my daddy found out Con and I were seeing each other. He forbade me to see him again and so we decided to run away.’
‘And you get married and he becomes rich and famous and...oh,’ sighed Maureen dreamily, ‘it’s like something out of a romance story. Is Con with you, Sorcha? The whole village is hopping with excitement. The rumour was that the whole band might come. I’d hoped so. I think that Todd Bradley is fierce gorgeous.’
‘No, he’s not. The band are very busy in London. They fly to the States in a few days’ time.’
‘For the concert in Central Park. I know. I’m a member of their fan club,’ Maureen chuckled.
‘So,’ said Sorcha, desperate to move away from the subject of her errant husband, ‘tell me about you.’
‘Oh, there’s nothing very exciting or unusual to tell. Not like your life, Sorcha. Perhaps your mammy told you I married Tommy Dalton a few months after you left?’
Sorcha smiled. ‘Yes, she did.’
‘We live in the flat over the shop with our three babies: Tommy Junior, Sean and Teresa, my dote of a little girl. Tommy works downstairs all the hours God sends and I work some he doesn’t,’ sighed Maureen. ‘It’s been a struggle to compete, what with the big new supermarket opening up at the end ofthe village, but things are fine now. We’ve saved enough money to buy a plot of land. We’ll start building our bungalow there next spring. It’ll have a kitchen with a separate dining room, a sitting room and three bedrooms, can you believe? At the moment we’re only having one – bedroom that is. The kids have that and Tommy and I sleep on a put-you-up in the sitting room. Ah, Sorcha, I can’t wait to move in. Think of all that space! It’ll be just grand.’
‘It sounds it, Maureen. So, you’re happy?’
‘Whatever happy is.’ She shrugged. ‘I mean, we all had so many dreams about the glamorous lives we’d lead when we were grown, how different they’d be to our mammies’ and daddies’, but they were dreams. I’ve stayed in Ballymore, I’m the wife of a grocer and I have three kids. Almost identical to my mammy’s life...Except I think I’ll stop at four or five little ones and get Tommy to tie a knot in it.’ Maureen smiled. ‘I understand now why Mammy always looked so tired. There were ten of us!’ Maureen raised an eyebrow at her old friend. ‘I read in my fan magazine that you and Con don’t have any little ones yet.’
