For all Niamh’s cynicism, Peggy looks as if she might just have materialised behind her, like some sort of otherworldly creature. She’s giving off a distinctly Celtic goddess-y vibe with her soft curls falling around her face. Admittedly, Niamh isn’t sure any apparition of a goddess would come wearing a dryrobe and beanie hat but, she supposes, she doesn’t really know. She’s never experienced an apparition before. For all she knows, every apparition since time began involved dryrobes and beanie hats. The angel Gabriel might have appreciated good insulation.
‘Didn’t mean to blind you there,’ Peggy apologises, stepping forward. ‘I just wanted to check in on you and see how you are. We didn’t see you at the beach.’
Niamh notices Peggy’s eyes darting towards her phone, which is impossible to miss given that she is using it as a torch. She blushes, feeling well and truly caught out and embarrassed by her own bad mood.
Looking as if she can read exactly what’s on Niamh’s mind, Peggy adds, ‘There’s nothing wrong with skipping it. This isn’t a prison camp. You’re not the only one who missed out. This Friday-night session can be a bit much for people – especially those with busy jobs who have been at it all week. You’re a teacher, aren’t you?’
Just how much does Peggy know about her, Niamh wonders. Has Becca filled in some sort of crib sheet outlining a potted history of Niamh Cassidy?
Niamh Cassidy. Married. Four kids. Stressed teacher. Not quite right in the head these days. Has watchedSchitt’s Creekall the way through four times and sometimes has to stop herself from speaking like Moira Rose.
That kind of thing.
‘I am, yeah. Secondary school. Science. It’s…’ She wants to say it’s challenging but she loves it, but something stops her. Probably the fact that she doesn’t love it at the moment. In fact, at this twenty-five-years-in-the-classroom mark, she feels really rather fed up with it all. It has changed. The rules have changed. The admin has changed. The kids have changed. God, the whole damn world has changed, especially in the wake of the pandemic. She’s just not sure she has the energy for it any more. Not enough energy to be the kind of teacher her pupils deserve. Even her Year 11s.
‘I imagine it’s not easy,’ Peggy interrupts, saving Niamh the trouble of putting her moment of self-discovery into words. Even though she senses that Peggy might be a safe pair of ears to talk to.
‘It’s not,’ Niamh says, feeling her chest tighten. She is not a person who blurts her life story to others. These days she can’t even seem to spill her guts to her nearest and dearest.
‘Were you just heading up to the meeting house?’ Peggy asks, before linking her arm through Niamh’s and starting to walk.
‘Yeah, I just… well, I was going to get something to eat. Some toast maybe. Becca said it was okay.’
Peggy laughs. ‘And it is. Kitchen is always open and snacks are available. I’ll even let you have some of my real butter if you want. We only keep it for special people.’
In other circumstances, Niamh might have felt as if she was being patronised by Peggy’s soothing tone, but right now it is exactly what she needs.
‘That would be lovely,’ she says.
‘These types of weekends can seem a little strange to people,’ Peggy continues. ‘If you want my honest take on it – they feelparticularlystrange to the kind of people, and by people I of course mean women, who spend their lives taking care of everyone else and not so much themselves.’
‘I do yoga,’ Niamh says, defensively. ‘Two classes a week.’
‘That’s a great start,’ Peggy says. ‘We’ve a yoga session tomorrow morning, if you fancy it.’ There’s a pause before Peggy speaks again. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being sarcastic when I say yoga is a great start. It really is. It’s better than a lot of people do. But maybe, if you’re feeling a little burned out, you might want to look at other things too. Sometimes we need to look at the big picture.’
‘I didn’t say I was…’ Niamh begins before she trails off. No, she did not say she was burned out but it’s now increasingly clear to her it must be written all over her face.
‘I know,’ Peggy says sagely. ‘It’s just something to think about.’
They come to the turn-off to the meeting house and while Niamh expects Peggy to turn and leave at this point, she feels comforted by the other woman continuing to walk with her. ‘I know it can be very, very overwhelming when there is so much going on in your life. It’s very easy to want to hide away and sleep it all off. I’ve been there. I’ve lived that version of life and it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. All I want to suggest to you, Niamh, is that you keep an open mind to what this weekend might bring. Approach it with an open, grateful heart. There’s nothing to lose here.’ Peggy’s smile is soft and warm, as she opens the door to the meeting house and guides Niamh in.
‘So I should probably hand over my phone, then?’ Niamh asks, red-faced.
‘Only if you want to,’ Peggy assures her. ‘As I’ve said, it’s not a prison camp.’
Peggy’s words about people who find it hard to care for themselves and spend all their time worrying about others play again in her mind.
What she knows she will end up doing if she holds on to her phone is that she will no doubt end up piling more worry on her shoulders. Paul is unlikely to have suddenly found peace with their newfound situation in the hours she has been away. She’s not sure she wants to listen to him go over his notes about it all. Again. Either that or she will listen to Fiadh crying that she misses her – that child is a dote and a darling but a master of emotional blackmail. The boys will be in touch but only to beg for money for Robux, orFIFApoints or… God knows… hard drugs.
If Jodie, and her raging hormones, comes on the line Niamh knows she will likely pack her bags and head back home, the guilt having got the better of her. Even though her own hormones are raging and she wants someone – anyone – to step in and help her instead.
‘I think it might be for the best,’ she says, handing her phone over.
Peggy takes it with a smile.
22
ICEBERG! RIGHT AHEAD!
