Page 34 of Prudence
Gigi giggled shyly, but there was a certain sadness that lingered in her expression. I motioned them from the room, and as we descended the stairs, I studied Derek’s daughter, worried about how down she’d sounded when they were talking before I came in.
Was it something I should mention to Derek? Then again, he told me yesterday she’d been going through a hard time recently, so he was clearly already aware.
We sat at the table to eat, and after spending only a few minutes with Gigi, I decided she was just lovely. Shy and sensitive but clearly very clever. She looked a lot like Derek, but there was also something of her mother there, too. Or at least what I imagined to be her mother since I’d never met the woman.
I served the girls store-bought apple crumble with vanilla ice cream for dessert, and not long after we finished eating, there was a honk from outside. Something about the sound sent me right back into the past, the memory of a handsome boy garnering my attention with the beeping of a car horn.
Approaching the living room window, I took a discreet glance outside and saw Derek sitting in the driver’s seat waiting. It bothered me that he didn’t even have the manners to come and knock on the front door. Then again, maybe this was for the best. Keeping our distance. The next time I had to collect Deirdre from his place, I’d simply text her to let her know I was outsideinstead of going in. I certainly wasn’t about to let him shut his door in my face again instead of inviting me in like a normal human being.
“That’s my dad,” Gigi said. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs Morgan-O’Shea.”
“It’s just O’Shea,” I corrected her fondly. “Morgan is Deirdre’s father’s surname. But you can call me Milly.”
She flushed “Okay, goodbye, Milly. Bye Deirdre.”
“Bye, Gigi. See you tomorrow.”
The girl left, and I found myself peering out at Derek once again, still irritated by his behaviour. He might’ve been a good dad, but he had terrible manners, or at least where it concerned me, he did.
“I’ll do those,” I said to Deirdre when I returned to the kitchen and found her making a start on the dishes. “You go up and finish your homework.”
“It’s fine. I already finished it,” Deirdre replied before shooting me a smile. “You can dry.”
Smiling back at her, I went to grab a dishcloth, and we quietly worked together before she remarked, “Did you know that Gigi’s mum is a violinist? She’s on tour right now with Rosanna Dove.”
My eyebrows shot up. Rosanna Dove was a world-famous singer, and her fanbase was enormous. I imagined playing in her band was a big deal for any musician. “Really? That’s impressive.”
“It’s amazing, right? The only problem is she’s going to be gone for almost an entire year while on tour. That’s why Gigi’s living full-time with her dad right now. She’s pretty down about it.”
Sadness filled me for the girl. Was that what Derek had been talking about when he’d said she’d been going through a difficult time? She missed her mother?
“That’s horrible for Gigi, but I’m sure her mam misses her. Sometimes parents have to make choices we don’t want to in order to earn a living.”
“Right. I tried telling her something along those lines, but I’m not sure I was very convincing.”
Putting down the plate I’d just been drying, I threw my arm around Deirdre’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sure it helps for Gigi to have someone to talk to, especially someone who can relate since you’re living away from your father now.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the same. I mean, I love Dad, but I don’t need him to be there for me every day like Gigi seems to need her mum. I think she feels abandoned.”
“The poor girl.”
Deirdre cast me a glance. “Spending time with you tonight helped, I think. She seemed to brighten up a lot when you two were talking at dinner.” She shot me a cheeky grin. “It must be all your soothing mother energy.”
I chuckled at that. “My what?”
She shrugged. “You know how maternal you are. There could be a six-foot-five, grizzled, muscle-bound wrestler sitting at your dinner table, and you’d find some way to mother him and make him feel like a little kid again.”
I laughed some more, shaking my head. “If you say so.”
“I do,” she replied, shutting off the tap after rinsing the final dish and leaning down to give me a peck on the cheek. “I’m going upstairs to watch that new comedy show on Netflix. Feel free to join me.”
I smiled at her departing figure, once again struck by how blessed I was to have such an emotionally mature, wise young woman for a daughter.
***
The following weekend, I received a call from Nuala inviting me out to dinner with her and all the old gang. I suspectedthis would include Derek, which made me hesitant to accept the invite. I’d managed to avoid any more run-ins with him, and we’d developed a routine of avoidance when it came to picking up and dropping off our daughters at one another’s homes. Still, I’d love to go and catch up with everyone else and didn’t want to stay home just because I might have to deal with Derek Balfe glowering at my very existence.
In the end, I told her I’d be there. We were meeting at Aidan Finnegan’s restaurant, which was aptly named Finnegan’s. Nuala told me he was a restauranteur now and had several successful establishments around the country. I managed to find a parking spot just down the street, and I smoothed my hands over my black dress before adjusting the straps of my handbag as I approached the building. After a deep breath in for confidence, I opened the door and entered the restaurant. It was a stylish, modern interior with lots of dark wood, exposed red brick and brass fixtures. There was also a buzzy vibe, seeming to attract the mid-thirties to early forties crowd.
