When All Is Said(42)

‘Mammy, I’m starving, when’s dinner?’ you said, coming through the door at that very moment along with the sounds of a Comanche attack from the other room.

‘Hold on a wee while there, Kevin. What was it, Maurice?’

‘But Mammy…’

‘Ah, that,’ I said. ‘It was that coin I found a long time ago. You know, the Dollard one. I’m sure I told you about it. Forgot I had it. I told her she couldn’t have it. She said OK, but you know yourself.’

‘Kevin, will you stop with the jiggin’ and pulling out of me?’ Sadie said. ‘That yoke? I thought I told you to give that back a long time ago. And now look what’s happened. Sure we’ll never hear the end of it now. She’ll always be wanting it.’

Everything had suddenly become my fault. I looked at my paper as my indignation breathed in the smell of the roast beef and felt wholeheartedly sorry for myself.

‘How long should we leave her in there do you think?’ Sadie said, not a hint of regret at her unfair treatment of me. ‘Kevin, will you stop? I can’t hear your father. The dinner will have to wait.’

‘But I’m starving,’ you appealed. I could’ve kissed you.

‘In fairness Sadie, I reckon my stomach can’t hold out much longer either,’ I bravely added.

‘Alright,’ she said, taking pity on the sorry sight of her two men, rising to take the meat out of the Aga. ‘We’ll sort it all after the dinner so. But she’ll help us.’ Sadie stood over the beef on the counter, shaking the carving knife at me, like I might protest. ‘Kevin, start setting the table and Maurice, go call Noreen.’

Noreen did help to clear up in the end, in her own way. And to my utter shock she was true to her word about the coin. It was back in the drawer when she left for home that night. No battle, no war of words, no injection this time. Over the years there was less and less need for those, thankfully. As she grew older, she actually mellowed, or maybe like the rest of us, her energy gradually waned.



* * *



Svetlana puts the toasted special down.

‘Sorry for delay. “Bedlam,” Chef say, I don’t know what that is but there you go, that’s what he say. You OK for everything. You need sauces?’

‘No, you’re grand now,’ I say, and watch her push her way back through the doors, disappearing into the kitchen.

I look at it and wonder what was I thinking. As the night has drawn on, I haven’t the heart or inclination for more food. But not willing to waste it, I take a tentative bite anyway, wary of the lethal burn of a hot tomato. But as I chew, I know it’s no use. I lay it back down and push away the plate of this, my last supper.



* * *



It was twenty-seven years later that I learned the origin of the coin from Emily at that special dinner she’d arranged. But even then she’d been holding back. And it wasn’t until a year after that again that I found out the real consequence of its theft. And it was all because of Noreen, would you believe.

It was another Sunday, and Sadie, Noreen and me were in the market for a lunch. In those days we’d begun to have the Sunday dinner out. We were in our seventies by then and were deserving of some treats, or so your mother had told me anyway. There we were on the road after Mass debating our destination.

‘Hotel,’ Noreen stated from the back. She always wanted to go to the Rainsford. I blame you and your wedding on that. One of the happiest days of her life.

‘And what about Kenny’s over in Duncashel, would you not prefer that? You like the chips there.’

‘Hotel,’ came the reply, a little more forcibly this time. It was not one of her good days.

‘How about Murtagh’s?’

‘Hotel,’ she roared.

‘Ah, for God’s sake Maurice, would you not be upsetting her. We’ll go to the hotel, Noreen, don’t you worry.’

The force of Sadie’s words could’ve turned the steering wheel all by itself. I dropped them off at the door of the place, while I went to find a parking space. Delaying as much as I could, I stopped into Lavin’s to pick up the paper.

‘Hannigan, it’s yourself,’ Lavin bellowed, as I put the paper down in front of him.

‘’Tis.’

‘Great day, now. Are you in for the bit of lunch? I saw you drop themselves in there. You can’t beat their steak. That’s my recommendation any way. How did the sheep go for you Thursday?’

‘The sheep? The sheep are my business Lavin and none of yours.’

‘Tell nothin’ to no man.’

‘Shall I pay you for the paper or are you giving it to me free?’

‘Wouldn’t I be the fool if I did that?’

‘Far be it from me Lavin … Here, I’ll get next Sunday’s free, so,’ said I, landing a fiver on the counter before leaving.

By the time I arrived in the foyer, I could see all was not well. The place was heaving. Sadie was standing at the dining-room door looking in all worried, perhaps there was no room, I thought. Hope for me yet. I risked a smile. But it didn’t last long when I remembered it was the thirtieth anniversary of the hotel’s opening. Robert had told me about it but I’d forgotten. My stomach lurched when I considered it quite possible Thomas might be home from England. Ducking like a big eejit behind some class of a tree in the foyer, I peered out cautiously. No longer a well-built brick of a man, instead a terrified boy of ten still fearful of the master. Coming to my senses, I near knocked the tree down as I stepped out from behind it. Attempting to settle myself, I allowed my eye to wander, to pretend an interest in the decor. It was then I saw a photograph of Rainsford House in its heyday, hanging on the wall nearby. I’d not seen it before, certainly it hadn’t been there at the wedding or I’d have noticed. I leaned in to get a better gander. There was a date – 1925, a bit before my time. A man was standing in the foreground looking directly at the photographer. His face was familiar, but I couldn’t place him. A Dollard alright, but not one I recognised. I stood there for some time lost in the puzzle of him, annoyed that I couldn’t figure it out, until an exasperated Sadie found me.