The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2 Read online

  ‘I hope you weren’t mean with the caraway seeds like last year, Mammy,’ Moira called back.

  ‘There’s more seeds than cake, I’ll have you know.’ Maureen was indignant. ‘And they were a ridiculous price last year, so they were.’

  ‘Why’s Aunty Moira lighting a candle?’ Noah asked from where he was cuddled on his mam’s knee. He was playing with a lock of her hair, twisting it around his finger the way he always did when he was tired.

  ‘It’s to provide a welcome light for Mary and Joseph,’ Roisin explained, enjoying the feel of his warm weight on her lap. He was dead on his feet, poor love. It had been a big day and the evening had been just as big if not bigger.

  Her mind drifted back to that afternoon. She’d arranged to meet Shay the day after St Stephens Day and she could hardly wait. His kiss had gone down as her best ever Christmas present. She’d floated home from Quinn’s, ignoring Cindy’s smirking gaze and the one hundred and one questions from Moira and Mammy about what she’d gotten up to in the car park and why her lipstick was smudged halfway across her face. She’d been telling them to mind their own business as they barrelled in through the door of O’Mara’s to find Aisling in full hostess mode. She’d been milling about chatting to the American tour party who’d not long arrived back at the guesthouse while Bronagh busied herself checking them all in.

  Maureen had instantly slotted into her old role, and Roisin and Moira grabbed Cindy to make their escape. By the time they’d reached the bottom of the stairs she’d launched into a conversation about Irish Christmas traditions with a couple from Maine. Pooh’s effusive greeting when she’d opened the door had brought Roisin back down to earth, not to mention flying backwards and Moira and Cindy had done a wary sidestep all the way through to the lounge. They’d found Patrick and Noah sitting on the floor surrounded by coloured paper.

  Patrick had explained they’d collected Pooh and Mr Nibbles after their film so as Mammy wouldn’t have to drive back to Howth later that afternoon. ‘That one who does the cleaning is a bit strange isn’t she?’ he’d added.

  ‘Idle Ita? In what way?’ Roisin had asked.

  ‘Well every time I head down the stairs, she pops out from one of the rooms like a fecking Jack in the Box and just stands there staring at me. It’s unnerving, she reminds me of your one out of that Stephen King film.’

  ‘Carrie.’ That had come from Moira.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

  ‘I think she’s sweet on you, Pat.’ Roisin recalled the housekeeper’s excitement at the news Patrick was home.

  ‘You can’t blame her, honey. You are one gorgeous hunk of a man.’ Cindy had draped herself over him while Moira made gagging noises.

  ‘Look, Mummy,’ Noah who’d been fed up with the lack of attention had cried. He’d held up the beginnings of a paper chain. ‘Uncle Pat’s teaching me how to make these.’

  ‘Can we help,’ she’d asked, and the three of them had sat down cross-legged next to the two boys to begin stapling and folding in earnest, while Pooh watched with his head resting on his paws and Mr Nibbles scrabbled sporadically in his cage. It had made Roisin nostalgic for her childhood, and Mammy, when she’d run out of delights to share with the tour group, had been delighted all over again with their efforts, declaring that the colourful chains would be used to decorate the dining room.

  Indeed, the paper chains had looked festive once they’d draped them around the room, digging out the box of tinsel kept in the hall cupboard to add a bit of sparkle. The dining room had looked even more festive with a mug of the mulled wine, Aisling had made, warming their insides, and they’d been pleased with their efforts as they trooped back upstairs to watch the Late Late Toy Show Moira had recorded earlier that month for them all to watch. It had whiled away the hours until Midnight Mass.

  Roisin cuddled Noah closer, rocking him as she used to when he was a baby. Her heart was full. He’d nodded off on her shoulder during the mass despite the hard wooden pew on which they were all perched. It had been a lovely evening she thought as she rested her face against his soft downy head. She inhaled the faint smell of frankincense which clung to his hair from the incense that had burned inside the church. Father Fitzpatrick’s service had been brief, but to the point as befitted the time of night. Roisin had always enjoyed the carol singing at Midnight Mass, it was her favourite part because that was when it felt like Christmas to her. Not even Mammy bellowing Silent Night in her ear like a cow on heat could change that.

  As for Mammy, well she’d been in seventh heaven surrounded by her whole family. It was a rare event these days and even rarer to get them all under God’s roof. She’d told them all, in no uncertain terms, to be on their best behaviour just as she used to when they were small only this time, thanks be to God, she didn’t spit on a hanky and start wiping at their faces. She’d had to have a quiet word with Patrick before they left when Cindy bounced into the living room announcing she was good to go. She’d told him if his girlfriend were to wave those things about, she currently had on display, during the Midnight Mass, Father Patrick might do himself an injury when he was swinging the incense and could he please suggest a more sedate choice of top. Patrick had huffed off, taking Cindy by the elbow and they’d returned a few minutes later with her clad in a snug white sweater and equally snug white pants. She looked like a Christmas angel Noah had told her, starstruck. A Christmas angel for Victoria’s Secret perhaps, Roisin had thought, but she’d kept it to herself. Either way it had been enough of an improvement to satisfy Maureen and for her to introduce her to friends old and new as they’d gathered inside St Teresa’s for the service.

  There’d been a bit of a skirmish before things got underway when the O’Reilly sisters, both spinsters for obvious reasons, tried to squeeze in alongside Patrick. There’d only been enough room for one and the older of the two sisters, Elsie, had fallen into the aisle. She’d been helped up by Mr Kelly, recently widowed, and had been appeased when he patted the seat to suggest she squish in alongside him.

  Sitting in the living room now, waiting for Mammy to dole out the cake as the old grandfather clock ticked that time was marching on, Roisin could hear the odd car horn as people full of the festive spirit made their way home from the church service. The church bells that had rung out through the city earlier were silent now and she guessed all across the country children would be fighting to stay awake in order to hear Santa’s reindeer on the roof. The family had walked the short distance home from St Teresa’s, their breath hanging like crystals in the air. They’d filed out of the church to calls of Merry Christmas to be greeted by a magical scene. The city had been dusted in an icing sugar snow sprinkle during the service. It had seen Mammy exclaim, ‘The geese are being plucked in heaven tonight, so they are.’

  ‘Here we are, one for you and one for you. No, Pooh, back to bed, chocolate and cake isn’t good for you.’ Roisin didn’t like to say that it wasn’t good for them either. Mammy began passing out the cake and true to her word it was loaded with the pungent anise flavoured seeds. Roisin settled Noah, whose eyes, despite his valiant efforts at staying awake long enough for hot chocolate and cake, were drooping next to her. She’d get Pat to carry him to bed because he’d be sound asleep in a minute or two. Taking the mug Quinn offered her and cupping it with both hands, the serviette on her lap with her half-eaten seed cake, she looked at her brothers and sisters and smiled. It was going to be a lovely, Christmas here at home all together, so it was.

  Chapter 27

  Roisin woke up to feel a warm hand tapping her on the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered reluctantly open just enough to see, unsurprisingly, that Noah was the culprit. Through her sleepy fog it dawned on her it was Christmas morning and she forced her eyes open properly, blinking several times. The ability of children to be wide awake the moment they opened their eyes amazed her once more as he began performing trampoline style bounces on the bed.

  ‘Noah, you’ll break the bed.’

  �
�I’m making sure you’re awake.’

  ‘I’m awake. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

  ‘Yay for Christmas!’ He fist-bumped the air and Roisin smiled at his enthusiasm before cocking an ear. The house was silent. She glanced over at the bedside clock, it was eight am. It was nothing short of a miracle that Noah had slept this late and she tossed the covers aside as she remembered last year’s obscene five thirty start. It was definitely time to get up, there was a lot to be done between now and four o’clock when their guests arrived for Christmas dinner. She knotted her dressing gown and followed her son’s lead to the living room, where the first thing he did was race into the kitchen to check Santa had drunk the bottle of Guinness they’d left out for him. ‘It’s gone, Mum.’

  ‘Thirsty work delivering all those presents.’ She was guessing Patrick would have slept soundly after knocking that back.

  At the word presents, Noah raced over to the tree to check his stocking. ‘Mum, it’s very heavy!’ She flicked the kettle on and looked over in time to see him dragging it to the middle of the living room floor. Pooh bounced over to see what he was up to and, remembering his little friend, Noah dropped the stocking, ran to the fridge and retrieved a lettuce leaf which he gave to Mr Nibbles. ‘You’re doing a good job looking after him, Noah,’ Roisin said, heaping a teaspoon of coffee into a mug and dropping the spoon with a clatter as she felt a snuffling where nobody should be snuffling at this time of the morning. ‘Get away with you.’ The dog looked thoroughly dejected and she spied the empty bowl on the newspaper near the pantry. ‘Ah well, it is Christmas morning I suppose.’ Holding her nose she lopped him off a slice of the meaty roll in the fridge and gave him a scoop of the dried food sitting on the corner of the bench. There that should keep him otherwise occupied for the time being. She made a pot of tea too, deciding it was time everyone was up because she couldn’t possibly be expected to contain Noah from ripping into his stocking while they waited for everyone to rise and shine. ‘Noah, go and knock on the bedroom doors and tell them all Father Christmas has been.’

  AN HOUR LATER THE LIVING room looked like a bomb had gone off with wrapping paper strewn everywhere. The air was filled with the comforting savoury and slightly salty aroma of bacon sizzling as Mammy and Quinn whipped up a full Irish large enough to feed the Irish rugby team. Roisin was making a half-hearted attempt at picking the discarded paper up and putting it all in a rubbish sack. Noah was assembling a complicated new Lego Airport Control Tower, Cindy was perched on Pat’s knee in pink pyjamas whispering in his ear, and Moira was engaged in a stand-off with Pooh. Aisling was setting the table, determined that they’d all squeeze around it somehow. She’d been delighted with Roisin’s gift and even more so when she’d heard the story their American guest Gerry had told Roisin about his connection with Cliona Whelan.

  ‘Oh, Rosi, do you think she’ll meet him today?’

  ‘I hope so, I really do.’

  They would have to wait until later to find out.

  Roisin put the rubbish bag down. She wondered how Shay’s morning was unfolding in the cottage where his mammy had grown up. Then, with a sigh, she realised Noah should call his father before they sat down to breakfast and wish him a Merry Christmas. She’d telephone him now and get it out of the way. The phone rang long enough for her to wonder how she’d feel hearing his voice after her carry-on with Shay yesterday. Would she blush bright red hearing Colin’s voice? Hearing him pick up and say, ‘The Quealey residence,’ however, she was surprised to find she didn’t feel much of anything. It seemed she really had moved on. She exchanged pleasantries and tuned out as he blathered on about it being very quiet given it was just him and his mother. She would not feel sorry for him, not after enduring the pre-Christmas, Christmas dinner with them. When he mentioned it was looking like cheese on toast for their lunch, she interrupted and called Noah over, pleased when he snatched the phone from her, eager to fill his daddy in on all the things Santa had dropped down the chimney for him. He was also bursting to tell him about the copious amount of poo Mr Nibbles had done on his journey over.

  WHEN THE CRY WENT UP as most of them were scraping their plates clean, Roisin was marvelling at Cindy’s restraint in sniffing and only eating half the rashers on her plate. She’d never seen someone only eat the white of a fried egg before either. She was just thinking how well Patrick was doing out of it all, having seen him forking his girlfriend’s discarded food onto his plate when the squeal made her drop her fork and spin around in her chair. The rest of the family followed suit.

  Roisin registered two things; Noah was sitting on the floor next to Mr Nibbles cage, and the door of the cage was open.

  ‘He’s run away!’ Noah wailed.

  Now was not the time to ask him why the cage door was open, she decided, seeing his bottom lip was trembling and his eyes were beginning to fill up.

  ‘Christ on a bike,’ Moira said, the first to move. ‘Come on, you lot, shift it.’ There was a mass downing of cutlery as chairs were pushed back and the search began. Moira, who was surprisingly clear headed in emergency situations, took control ordering Cindy and Patrick to search their bedroom. ‘Roisin you do yours and Noah’s. Noah, see if he’s hiding in the bathroom. Mammy, check ours. Quinn and Ash, you’re on the living room and kitchen. And nobody is to leave the apartment. We’ve got a situation here that needs to be contained. Do you hear me?’ Everyone nodded and nobody thought to ask Moira where she planned on searching, not when she was doing such a good job delegating. ‘Right let’s bring this gerbil home.’ They duly headed off in the directions in which they’d been sent.

  The sound of drawers slamming shut, wardrobe doors opening and closing, and audible groans as people stood back after being on their hands and knees searching under beds, emanated throughout the apartment but there was no sign of the furry fellow. Roisin was feeling sick as she checked through their cases. She’d been so sure it was going to be a perfect family Christmas and now this had happened. He was so small, so vulnerable, it didn’t bear thinking about. She realised she’d gotten very fond of the little chap and would be as devastated as Noah were he to have met an unhappy end.

  She appeared back in the living room in time to see Mammy waving a piece of lettuce about making kissy-kiss noises as she called, ‘Here, Mr Nibbles.’ The only response was the thud of Pooh’s stumpy tail on the carpet. Roisin looked at Pooh and was suddenly horror-struck. Surely not? He and Mr Nibbles were related. Well, in a pet uncle, nephew way at least. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go closer for fear of him licking his chops and confirming her worst fears. She was going to have to though, they needed to know what had happened, to put together the missing pieces of the puzzle.

  She got down on all fours and crawled towards him. ‘Have you something you want to tell me?’ She didn’t know what she expected the poodle to say. Should she suggest one woof for I did it, two for not guilty? As she drew nearer the tail thumping got more excited. He obviously thought she was playing some sort of game and he clambered off his bed eager to get things underway. Roisin gasped because there, curled up in the middle of the pillow, was a small brown and white furry ball. She carefully scooped up the bundle, hoping he hadn’t suffocated under all that curly poodle hair but to her relief he was warm and on closer inspection she saw his eyes were closed. He was sound asleep she realised, rolling him back into his cage and closing it with a firm click before calling out that the search was over.

  So it was, the O’Mara women and Cindy retreated down the stairs to the kitchen to begin their mammoth prepping session for the Christmas dinner with Mammy spouting off about Christmas miracles all the way. Aisling muttered a Christmas miracle would be if Patrick got off his arse and did the breakfast dishes while they were gone.

  Chapter 28

  Roisin untied the apron she’d donned and stood in the kitchen doorway, admiring last night’s handiwork in the dining room. It was resplendent with glitzy tinsel and lots of it, along with screeds of paper chains. It
looked very Christmassy, she decided, sniffing greedily at the aroma from the roasting turkey. The smell of it was like sliding under a comforting warm blanket on a cold winter’s day, she thought. She’d never have believed she’d have room for Christmas dinner after the amount of food she’d tucked away at breakfast time but there was something about coming home to Dublin that always increased her appetite and the delicious whiffs from the kitchen were making her hungry once more.

  Aisling had said the bird had another half an hour in the oven and then she’d get it out to rest. Mammy had crossed turkey off her list with flourish before leaning over Quinn’s shoulder to enquire about the plum pud. ‘Now be sure to add a decent splash of the cognac when you bring it through, Quinn,’ she bossed. She’d been walking around, Santa hat slipping down over one eye, in her yoga pants as she clutched a clipboard singing along to Frosty the Snowman. A short, bossy elf as she kept an eye on the smooth running of the kitchen, eager to get everything on her list crossed off by the time Bronagh, Mrs Hanrahan, Nina and Tom arrived. She heard her call out, ‘Moira, are your roast taties crisping?’

  ‘Yes, and could we please listen to something other than your Foster and Allen Christmas collection? Oh, and, Mammy, don’t forget to get changed before everyone arrives. The only person who should be in pants that tight is Tom.’