Page 32 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 20

Penny

I was sitting on the kitchen floor beside Lucy, who was pouring imaginary teas and coffees into tiny china teacups. Mam had bought the red polka-dot tea set in O’Herlihy’s and Lucy’s new favourite game was playing ‘Ruairí’s café’.

‘This a for you, Mama.’ She handed me a delicate cup balanced precariously on a matching saucer.

‘Oh, thank you, Lucy Lu,’ I said, pretending to take a sip.

‘This a for you, Ganny,’ she said, standing up and handing a cup to my mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table. ‘And this for you, Gandad.’ Carefully she carried a cup over to my father.

‘This is delicious tea, Lucy,’ my father said.

Lucy turned back to me. ‘Drink your tea, Mama,’ she scolded.

‘Sorry,’ I said, raising the cup to my lips again.

‘You’ll need to start thinking about playschools if you’re still here come September,’ Mam reminded me once again.

The days were going so fast. It was hard to believe that September was a little more than a month away. Even though I was doing nothing to further my move back to Dublin, I still couldn’t imagine myself being here in a month’s time.

‘Josephine has a lovely little playgroup,’ Mam continued, nodding at Lucy who was playing, blissfully unaware of the topic of conversation. ‘Missy would be in her element there.’

‘Has Josephine not retired yet?’ I asked. She had been my playschool teacher almost thirty years ago.

‘Not yet. I can have a word with her to see if she’d have a place for Lucy?’ Mam pushed, a hopeful note in her voice.

‘I’m not sure...’

‘You’re going to have to make a decision soon, Penny,’ Mam warned. ‘You can’t keep living in limbo, not knowing whether you’re coming or going. It’s not good for you or Lucy.’

‘I know, Mam,’ I replied, with a sigh of defeat. ‘I know.’

‘Would it really be so bad to stay in Inishbeg Cove for a few months?’ Dad asked gently. He always took a softer approach than Mam.

‘I just need a little longer to think about everything,’ I said to appease them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get my head together. I felt overwhelmed; it was as if there was a rock sitting on my chest and I couldn’t move out from underneath it. I was stuck there beneath its weight, unable to make a decision.

‘Any word from Joe?’ Mam enquired.

‘Not since the other day,’ I replied. He had phoned to talk to Lucy again, but she had grown distracted and wandered off in the middle of the conversation. I had tried to coax her back to talk to him, but she was three years old and didn’t have the attention span yet. Mam pursed her lips in disapproval. I knew this would lead to a rant about Joe, and I just couldn’t listen to it right now.

‘I’d better get ready for work,’ I said, getting up from the floor, eager to escape their inquisition.

∞∞∞

Later that afternoon, Ruairí and I were working flat out in the café. From the moment I had stepped inside the door, customers had been arriving thick and fast. There was no let-up in the lunchtime rush. They were mainly holidaymakers and day-trippers making the most of the last days of summer before the cooler weather made its presence felt, but some of the villagers were there too, like the sea swimmers and Mrs Manning, who was sipping tea from her cup, which was circled with a ring of red lipstick.

Sunlight cast an ochre light through the windows. Although the day was sunny, a cool south-westerly breeze was coming in off the Atlantic so only a few hardy souls dared to sit outside, which made the café feel even busier.

We served endless sandwiches, panini and salads, scones and cakes until my head was spinning and my hands felt as though I could butter bread in my sleep. Eventually the customers began to slow to a steady trickle and Ruairí and I had time to catch our breath.

I was clearing off a table when a voice called from behind me. ‘Penny, can I talk to you for a minute?’

I swung around to see Tadgh standing there. Mortification wormed its way through my body.

‘Sure,’ I said, piling dirty plates and mugs on the tray.

I had gone home the night of the festival feeling ashamed. All weekend, I cringed at myself for being so stupid. I still didn’t know what had come over me. What had I been thinking, leaning in to kiss him like that? Was it simply the deadly combination of exhaustion and too much alcohol? Or perhaps I was feeling nostalgic after another beautiful summer festival, or maybe it was because my self-worth was on the floor and Tadgh’s familiarity was easy and appealing. I guessed it was probably a combination of all three reasons. But try as I might, I couldn’t figure it out. I was so confused by my actions, so God only knew how Tadgh was feeling.