Page 126 of The Last Love Song
‘Goodness, it’s past ten. I ought to be leaving. Mammy’s fine in the day, but then it gets to this point at night and she starts to become maudlin.’
Maureen tweaked back the curtain and looked out. ‘Fair drowned you’ll be, Sorcha. I’ll get you an umbrella and a jacket.’
‘Thank you. And bless you for such a grand dinner. I feel completely stuffed.’
‘Not as stuffed as I’ll be in a few months’ time,’ laughed Maureen, disappearing off to retrieve a brolly and a jacket.
‘Bye, Tommy. Maybe next time I’m here I’ll be coming to visit the bungalow.’
‘With God’s help, let’s hope so.’
‘Come down and I’ll see you out,’ called Maureen from the bottom of the stairs.
Sorcha walked down and followed Maureen through the shop to the front door. She opened it and Sorcha saw the high street was awash with puddles.
‘Just to remind you you’re back in the Emerald Isle,’ laughed Maureen. She put both of her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Sorcha. Write to me, won’t you?’
‘I will, I promise. I can’t tell you how lovely it’s been to see you. And I’m so glad you’re happy, Maureen. I think your family are gorgeous.’
‘Aye, I’ve no complaints. It’s not a bad little life I have for myself.’ She nodded. ‘You take care, Sorcha.’ Maureen looked deeply into her old friend’s eyes. ‘You know, it strikes me that there’s something worrying you at the moment. Am I right?’
‘I...’ Sorcha wavered for a few seconds, then shook her head, pride preventing her from pouring out her marital problems to Maureen. ‘I’m concerned about my mother. I hope she’ll be all right when I have to leave her to go home.’
‘You know how it is in Ballymore. The village will rally round. She’ll not be short of company, that’s for sure.’
‘Yes. Of course. She has plenty of friends. I just feel guilty for going.’
‘I’m sure your mammy understands you must be with yourhusband. If my better half was a handsome, famous pop star, I’d not be torn from his side for more than a few seconds.’
Sorcha opened the umbrella. ‘Here I go. Bye, Maureen.’
‘Bye, Sorcha.’
She stepped out into the downpour. The rain drove into her back as she hurried up the high street, and she arrived home a dripping, sodden mass.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You’re like a drowned rat! Here, let me take your wet things and I’ll run a bath before you catch your death!’ Mary fussed around her as Sorcha peeled off her soaking clothes.
In the bath, Sorcha pondered her evening at Maureen and Tommy’s. She wondered how the couple survived in that cramped little flat with those three beautiful but exhausting children.
‘Love,’ Sorcha said as she draped a flannel over her face. That’s what it was. Tommy and Maureen adored each other and their children. It didn’t matter that they had very little and had worked all hours for everything they did have.
Maybe Con and she had too much.
But did they have enough love?
They used to, that was for sure.
Sorcha refused to believe it had gone. Granted, things had not been right for some time, but surely it was solvable?
She knew her marriage was at a crossroads. If she left things as they were, there was no hope. But if she was prepared to try to make a new start, wash the slate clean and forget all the niggling problems that had forced the two of them apart;plus– and this was the most important thing of all – if she could persuade Con to do the same, then maybe they had a chance.
Shecoulddo it.
Sorcha removed the flannel from her face.
‘I love you, Con Daly,’ she informed the ceiling.
And for that love, she was prepared to fight.
