The Ladies' Midnight Swimming Club(7)

‘And what about Niall?’ Lucy shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Niall being at all enthusiastic about moving down to Ballycove. He was too geeky to fit in with the farming and fishing kids who normally hung about the village.

‘Look, just to keep your mother happy, will you come down for the weekend, get a feel for the place? Let’s see what you think. Don’t decide yet, but maybe when you meet Elizabeth and you have a look around – you never know. It might be exactly what you’re looking for.’ She ended the call before Lucy could say another word, no doubt off to make up their beds and cook up a storm of pies and cakes.

*

Lucy enjoyed the drive once she left the city behind; a looming red weather alert meant the roads were tame for now and Niall snoozed gently beside her. He was not a huge conversationalist when they were driving, but then what teenager ever was? Once she hit the midlands, she sank a little further down in her seat. The skies were rolling out a dark metal canvas before her and on either side peaty bogs unfolded purple heather and white cotton into the distance. The land was flat and uncompromising, but it was comforting to see little houses, smoke firing up their chimneys and the occasional stab at optimism where clothes flapped on clothes lines in the wind before the certain storm threatening from ever-darkening skies.

Soon, she was driving into Mayo, its familiar rocky fields and winding roads welcoming her with a soft misty rain that passed not too long after it began. Ballycove sat on the coast, facing off the Atlantic Ocean with its back at the North Sea.

Perhaps she was biased but Lucy always thought it was one of the quaintest villages on the western seaboard. Built into a stony cliff that hung over a stout pier, the streets zigzagged upwards in an angular spiral, until, at the top, the finest houses and the looming limestone church sat proudly overseeing all. Her mother lived at the lower end of the town in a small house – one of a row of workers’ cottages.

Lucy had loved growing up here. She’d always thought it was the most idyllic spot. She loved everything about the cottage, but most of all, she adored her tiny bedroom at the front of the house that overlooked the sea wall. She had always treasured waking up in that little room, with the crashing of the waves just beyond her window and the constant call of gulls and curlews floating in from across the waves. It was, she’d once thought, even lovelier at night, to be snuggled in the tiny room, safe and sound while the winter storms crashed against the walls opposite and whistled along the cottages, rattling letter boxes and swinging gates.

In summer, when she left the window open, she slept and woke with the salty fresh smell of the sea in her nostrils and the music of the tide in her ears. It was no wonder that she seemed to eat for four when she was here. Quite aside from the fact that her mother cooked good wholesome food, long walks on the beach or back across the peaty stretch of fields and hills meant she was constantly ravenous. It would be no bad thing, if she could persuade Niall, to stay here for a while and breathe in fresh air and maybe even sit at a table with good food and better company. There was no denying she had always been thin, but now, when she caught her eye in the rear-view mirror, she was positively gaunt. A shadow of the girl she truly was.

Life had shaken the vitality from her. The last few years had kicked it from both of them. She looked across now at her lovely sleeping son, his pale complexion and gangly arms and legs a testament to a young life wasted for too many hours before a computer screen while she raced to keep on top of the demands of her job. The downward spiral of the quality of their lives had begun with the ending of her marriage. Still, there was no doubt that falling into a routine of hospital food that she could hardly face at the best of times and barely seeing daylight, didn’t help with making her look or feel any better than some of the patients she tended to. With a stab of recognition, she knew, glancing at Niall, she had neglected both of them. They needed this before it was too late.

It was a huge relief to see that Ballycove had not changed one bit. She drove into town, past huge trees with the promise of new buds glistening on their fingering branches. She sent up a prayer to whatever power might be able to bring soothing to both Niall and herself and then shook him gently. ‘We’re here, sleepyhead.’

‘What, already?’ He’d slept soundly for the last hour of the journey.

‘Yes, we’ve made good time. Although your grandmother will probably say we’re just in time for dinner.’ Lucy laughed then because she knew that her mother would make it her personal mission to get some meat back on Niall’s bones for the few days they were here. She reached for her bag from the back seat of her car and swung around to find Dora back at her heels.

The little cottage felt smaller as all places do when you return after a long absence. Everything about the place seemed a little duller: the red door faded pinkish, the nets on the windows a little yellow and in the tiny patch of garden the vibrant plants of her memory were sleeping soundly for a few more weeks. She had hardly touched the knocker when the door swung back to reveal her mother, slighter, greyer, older but still warmly familiar with her great welcome.

‘Oh, dear Lucy,’ she said as she folded her in a huge hug, which betrayed her gauntness beneath her bulky hand-knitted jumper; then she held her hands and stepped back, gazing at her only daughter. ‘Let me look at you…Oh, it’s so good to have you home.’

‘Come on, let us through the door, before Niall changes his mind and hightails it back to Dublin again,’ Lucy joked, keeping her voice normal above the shock of seeing her mother look so unwell.