‘It’ll be just like the Peace Camp,’ said Nora, holding her face close to his. ‘Just like the glory days.’ She stood up and blew him a kiss.
‘Just like them. But better. This time I’ll bring the flapjacks.’
*
On the way home, Nora snoozed in the back of the car, me and Rosie in the front, talking quietly, as the black of the Irish countryside enveloped us. Eventually, from the back of the car, there was a voice. ‘I am very lucky to have you two.’
‘Hi Granny,’ said Rosie. ‘We’re nearly home. And we’re very lucky to have you.’
‘You’ve slept the whole way,’ I said drily.
‘And now I’m awake,’ she said. ‘And ready for chats. I’ve been thinking about Rosaleen and how much she would have loved to have met you, Rosie.’
‘She would,’ I agreed.
‘She was a very loving woman,’ said Nora. ‘One of those people who were happy out.’
‘Like you,’ I said.
‘Me?’
‘You’re always happy,’ I said. ‘Even when there is no reason to be.’
‘But isn’t that a good thing?’ said Rosie. ‘You’re making it sound like it isn’t.’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘It is and it isn’t. You don’t have to be happy about everything.’
‘I’m not,’ said Nora. ‘There’s lots of things I’m not happy about. Like developers and nuns and the Catholic Church and female genital mutilation and people who don’t recycle and the fact that coffee is now a very complicated business altogether and all sorts. And selling school land. That kind of thing…’
I groaned.
‘But,’ she went on, ‘caring about those things, waking up in the middle of the night worrying about those things, does not stop me being deep-down happy.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Promise me something, Rosie…’
‘What is it, Granny?’
‘That you’ll follow your dreams, your calling, that you won’t be bound up by convention or being normal, whatever that is. Just be you. That you will carry on caring about things, that you will be passionate and committed and stand up for what’s right.’
Rosie nodded dutifully. ‘I will. I promise.’
‘Don’t be boring,’ went on Nora. ‘Whatever you do. Don’t be boring.’
‘Am I boring,’ I said, ‘because I didn’t hang out in fields or want a tattoo like the child you really wanted?’
‘No, you’re not boring, Tabitha,’ she said. ‘You’re brave like Rosaleen, strong. Interesting. Good-natured. Smart. You have her look. In your eyes. And you have it too, Rosie.’
We were all silent for a moment. I was thinking of Rosaleen and Nora and me and Rosie, four generations of Thomas women. Life was nothing if not interesting. Life was fascinating, scary, frightening and wonderful, and I realised that I wouldn’t change a single thing about the two women I was driving home. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life if it meant that I wouldn’t be here, right now, in this car, with these two. None of it. Not a thing. It was all over with Michael. And I was free. And Red wanted to talk to me. And I would have to tell him about the baby. And I didn’t know what he’d say. But it was time for full disclosure. It was time to be honest.
‘Tabitha?’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Can we stop for a moment? There must be a garage or something. I’m absolutely starving.’
Oh God. My mother had the munchies.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Once we were back in Dublin and we’d dropped Nora home (she was going straight, she said, for a lie-down), I’d just put the kettle on when we heard Michael’s key in the door. What did one say to one’s husband who has fallen in love with a (slightly) younger and (definitely) perkier woman?
He came into the kitchen and stood there, grey with worry, his eyes red as though he’d been crying all night. There was no sign of Lucy.
‘Rosie?’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you still mad at me?’
‘Well I haven’t had much time to not get mad at you,’ she said. ‘So yes, I’m still mad at you.’
‘Cup of tea, Michael?’ I said. ‘We’ve just had such a long drive, I’m gasping. You?’
‘I can’t keep a thing down,’ he said. ‘Not even water. I had to sit next to a baby on the flight who cried the whole way from Charleroi. And I’ve got a splitting headache.’
‘Granny Nora’s got one of those,’ said Rosie, giving me a look.
‘Grown-ups really are not being the best role models lately to you, are they?’ I said to her, as Michael sat on a chair and massaged his temples. He did look pretty green. ‘You might be the only one among us who has behaved with dignity.’
‘You’re not doing too badly, Mum,’ she said quietly, and gave my arm a squeeze. We waited for Michael to refocus on the room. I noticed he wasn’t begging for forgiveness or following any of the usual errant spouse scripts. Even with his career in danger, he’d obviously decided that Lucy was for him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, eventually. ‘Oh Tab, I didn’t mean this… any of this… it’s awful… I am just so sorry… oh Tab, I can’t believe I’ve done this… I didn’t think I’d ever be one of those... politicians…’
‘The sleazy kind?’ I suggested, helpfully.
‘Well…’ he spluttered, not wanting to accept sleaziness but knowing his moral standing was rocky. ‘I know how angry you must be…’
‘Michael, it’s…’
‘You’re probably fuming, wanting my guts for garters… you’ve probably got a little voodoo doll in a suit and you’re going to stick pins into it…’
‘Michael…’
He was examining my face. ‘You look dreadful, so upset,’ he insisted. ‘It must have come as a terrible shock…’
‘I’m absolutely…’
‘Furious? Devastated? So you should be! What a thing to discover. Your husband having an affair with his secretary. Oh, Tabitha, I am so ashamed, so appalled, so horrified, to have put you through this. To have hurt you and Rosie so badly, to have destroyed your lives like this…’
‘Hold on a moment…’ I said. ‘Michael…’
‘You’ll forever be known as Michael Fogarty’s wronged wife. I can’t believe I have done this to you, Tabitha, it was so selfish of me. How will you ever get over it? And my constituents! They will be devastated. I’ll lose my seat, for sure.’ His eyes were almost gleaming at the thought of his great fall. ‘It’s just that when you fall in love, passion gets in the way of everything. People get hurt. But… but sometimes, that’s the way it has to be.’
I’d heard enough. ‘Michael, please. Just listen. It’s fine. Believe me.’ I nodded, smiling, encouragingly. ‘I’m really pleased for you. Really pleased. I can’t talk for how Rosie feels about the matter, but for me, I can see that you and Lucy are meant for each other. I mean, she’s such a marvel. And your constituents will get over it. They’ll just go and vote for someone else. We’ll all be fine.’
‘What?’ He looked shocked and almost disappointed I was taking it so well. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ He looked at me sceptically, puzzled that I had taken his one chance to be a blackguard away from him. ‘Rosie?’ he said, the colour now fully drained from his face.
‘I’ll get over it,’ she said.
‘I just… we couldn’t help…’
‘Falling in love?’ I prompted.
He nodded miserably.
‘Michael, we can talk about this in detail another time but we need to get divorced and you need to move out as soon as possible. Now, in fact. And you and Lucy have my full and complete blessing as long as you do this as swiftly and painlessly as possible. For all our sakes.’
‘Do I have your blessing as well, Rosie?’
She nodded. ‘It kind of puts my messing up my Leaving Cert in the shade, so I’m not so disappointed. It’s nice when your parents behave worse than you do.’
He gave her an agonised, tortured smile as though he had no idea if she was joking or not. She wasn’t.
‘Where is Lucy by the way?’ I said.
‘Outside. Waiting.’
‘You’d better bring her in.’
*
When he returned with Lucy, she grabbed my hand, her eyes full of tears. They’d obviously both had a good sob about my awful plight on the journey home. ‘I’m so sorry, Tabitha,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Lucy, it’s fine,’ I said briskly. ‘Can we all stop saying sorry and be grown-up about this?’