‘It’s okay,’ she said, putting her phone down on the table beside her. ‘But I’m not doing badly. Now I know what hanging in there means. It means just being able to be somewhere, the best you can, for as long as you can.’
‘You’re doing brilliantly,’ I said. ‘Thank you. These look delicious.’ The sandwiches had arrived.
‘There you are. Let me know if you need anything.’
‘We will.’
‘Down from Dublin are ye?’
‘That’s right,’ we nodded.
‘How were the roads?’
‘Grand… clear enough. It’s just nice to be back in West Cork.’
‘Spent much time here have ye?’
‘A little bit,’ I said. ‘My grandmother was from here.’
‘Was she now? What was her name?’
‘Rosaleen. Rosaleen Thomas.’
The woman gasped. ‘Well, well, well. I used to know. Rosie Thomas. She was a friend of my older sister. Went to school together. We lived outside of the town and had to take the bus in every day.’
‘Really? What was she like?’
‘I’ve never seen someone so pretty in my entire life. She had her hair just so, even back then. Used towrap it in papers overnight. She went to Dublin, as far as I knew, but none of us heard anything else from her, not after her parents passed on. She always said she wanted to act, be in films, and whenever I went to the cinema in Bantry I’d stay to the end of the credits, just wondering if I’d see her name.’
‘She didn’t make it to Hollywood.’
‘Now, that’s a shame. She should have done. Beautifulshe was. With the personality to match. Actually…’ She was studying Rosie. ‘You’ve got the look of her. Same shaped face, eyes. If you hadn’t told me who you were I would have sworn it was Rosaleen Thomas, back to see us. Ah!’ She smiled at the memory. ‘Too big for West Cork, she was. Now, we’ve all sorts down here. Actors, producers. We’ve more festivals and arty goings-on than you can shakea stick at. But then, the only thing we had going on was either fish or farming. And Rosaleen didn’t want either. She was that talented, she was. She used to make up dances when we were waiting for the bus. And act out scenes. Shakespeare was her favourite.’
‘She used to do that for me, too.’
‘How is she? Is she still with us?’
‘She died. A long time ago. She was only sixty-two.’ Ten yearsyounger than Nora I thought. ‘Cancer. If it was today, they probably would have been able to help her.’ I refused to let the words get stuck in my throat like they always did.
‘Well, weren’t you lucky to have her all the same? Now, there’s the paper, just in. Evening edition, if you would like to have a look. More scandal. The usual gossip.’
‘Do you have WI-FI here?’ said Rosie.
‘We’re meantto,’ said the woman. ‘They say we have it. But it’s never materialised. If indeed such a thing can materialise. Patchy at best.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Rosie, resigned to life in the sticks and waving her phone around.
