Grandad is still enjoying the memories as Margaret silences the group. ‘Couldn’t hear yerself think in here in those days.’
Margaret goes round the group for my benefit. There’s Rosie and her sister Lily, Maire from The Artbox, Evelyn and John Joe, Margaret, Patsy the landlord and his wife Sínead, Grandad, Tina from the hairdresser’s, David the postman, Gerald from the café, Darragh who ownsthe souvenir shop and is landlord to Maire, Tina and Gerald.
‘Thanks for coming,’ says Margaret. ‘This meeting has been called because … well, look around you. What do you see?’ Everyone, including Margaret and me, looks around. Patsy the barman is standing with us, a tea towel over his shoulder. No one is waiting for drinks. The two barflies Padraig and Seamus are nursing pints, but other than that it’s just them and us.
‘Nothing,’ Rosie keeps looking, ‘what am I looking for?’
‘Nothing. That’s exactly it, Rosie.’ Margaret slaps her clipboard on the table.
There’s a communal intake of breath.
‘It’s June. The older kids have been off school for nearly a month. In a couple of weeks the national schools will be off for the summer too. And no one is coming here.’
‘Might as well shut up shop.’ Maire shakes her head while knitting.
‘We need something to bring in the crowds. Show them what we’ve got. I grew up here, I don’t want to leave like everyone else. I want people to come and see what a brilliant place Dooleybridge is,’ Margaret says passionately.
‘What have we got?’ asks Tina through her long fringe.
‘Well, there’s—’
‘This place for starters,’ Patsy cuts across Margaret. ‘If I don’t get some good summer trade now I’ll be forced to shut my doors.’ He looks around at the few drinks he’s sold. ‘It costs me more to run the place.’
‘Ah, no, don’t say that.’ Rosie takes a big slug of her cider and Patsy’s wife Sínead puts an arm around him.
‘That’s how it is,’ Patsy shrugs, and pats Sínead’s hand.
‘There’s this place!’ Margaret says, trying to inject some enthusiasm into proceedings.
‘And mine!’ Gerald joins in with a smile, holding hispint on his belly.
‘And there’s the beach,’ Evelyn joins in. ‘My kids spent hours on the beach when they were little. Rain or … whatever the weather.’
‘Yes, but kids want more than that these days.’ Rosie speaks as the voice of authority on the matter and everyone listens. ‘They want funfairs, water parks, Wi-Fi everywhere they go …’
Maire puts her knitting into her lap thoughtfully.
‘I’ve got the world wide web …’ Gerald looks like he’s watching a deflating balloon.
‘We need ideas to bring the holiday-makers back. That’s why we’re here,’ Margaret pushes on valiantly.
Grandad leans towards me. ‘In my day you couldn’t get on the beach for holiday-makers.’
‘Yes, Grandad,’ they all chorus.
Margaret rolls her eyes and lets her blank clipboard and pen fall heavily to her side, as though she’s fighting a losing battle. I wish I could help but I don’t really know the area and I certainly wouldn’t have any ideas. I just made cakes when I worked at Betty’s, that’s all I’ve ever done. Now I scrub oysters.
‘I fancy a night at the dogs,’ Rosie nudges her sister, who smiles in agreement.
‘Oh yes, a night at the dogs always goes down well. A family night, like,’ says Evelyn.
‘It’s supposed to be something to bring the punters here, not a night out in Galway,’ Margaret looks exasperated.
‘We could do a table quiz,’ says Rosie, getting excited.
‘Oh yes, I’m great on geography questions,’ says Maire, picking up her knitting again.
‘And you could do celebrity ones, Lily,’ Rosie nudges her sister.
