Life had shaken the vitality from her. The last few years had kicked it from both of them. She looked across now at her lovely sleeping son, his pale complexion and gangly arms and legs a testament to a young life wasted for too many hours before a computer screen while she raced to keep on top of the demands of her job. The downward spiral of the quality of their lives had begun with the ending of her marriage. Still, there was no doubt that falling into a routine of hospital food that she could hardly face at the best of times and barely seeing daylight, didn’t help with making her look or feel any better than some of the patients she tended to. With a stab of recognition, she knew, glancing at Niall, she had neglected both of them. They needed this before it was too late.
It was a huge relief to see that Ballycove had not changed one bit. She drove into town, past huge trees with the promise of new buds glistening on their fingering branches. She sent up a prayer to whatever power might be able to bring soothing to both Niall and herself and then shook him gently. ‘We’re here, sleepyhead.’
‘What, already?’ He’d slept soundly for the last hour of the journey.
‘Yes, we’ve made good time. Although your grandmother will probably say we’re just in time for dinner.’ Lucy laughed then because she knew that her mother would make it her personal mission to get some meat back on Niall’s bones for the few days they were here. She reached for her bag from the back seat of her car and swung around to find Dora back at her heels.
The little cottage felt smaller as all places do when you return after a long absence. Everything about the place seemed a little duller: the red door faded pinkish, the nets on the windows a little yellow and in the tiny patch of garden the vibrant plants of her memory were sleeping soundly for a few more weeks. She had hardly touched the knocker when the door swung back to reveal her mother, slighter, greyer, older but still warmly familiar with her great welcome.
‘Oh, dear Lucy,’ she said as she folded her in a huge hug, which betrayed her gauntness beneath her bulky hand-knitted jumper; then she held her hands and stepped back, gazing at her only daughter. ‘Let me look at you…Oh, it’s so good to have you home.’
‘Come on, let us through the door, before Niall changes his mind and hightails it back to Dublin again,’ Lucy joked, keeping her voice normal above the shock of seeing her mother look so unwell.
‘Niall, look at you, you must be nearly…’ There were tears in her eyes and Lucy knew they’d left it far too long. ‘Six foot? You’ve grown so much.’
‘He’s not quite that yet, but you know the way it is, Mum, he goes to bed at night a little boy and before breakfast it seems he’s grown a few more inches.’
‘He’s twice as handsome with it.’ Her mother reached up to ruffle Niall’s mop of curly hair.
‘Aww, Gran.’ He smoothed it down again, a little embarrassed at anything that might serve as attention on him. Still, Lucy was glad to see he bent down and kissed his grandmother shyly on her cheek.
‘Come in, come in.’ Jo pulled them into the hall, led them into the snug sitting room where a roaring fire blazed in the hearth. ‘Oh, it’s just so lovely to see you both,’ she said again and Lucy couldn’t help assessing her, counting the years on her face. Her mother was veering towards her mid-seventies now. It was not old, but somehow, the years seemed to have crowded in on her all at once. Her normally straight and large frame had begun to droop in on itself, so it looked as if someone had come along and flattened her, just a little more into herself. But her eyes were bright, her smile was warm and if there were more lines on her face, they suited her. Her complexion told of a woman who enjoyed the sea air every day and there was no missing the sense of purpose that came of being interested in her neighbours and friends and lending a hand at any turn she could.
The rain started to sheet down. Half an hour later it seemed to batter all that was holy out of the sky. Lucy realised she had missed this, the feeling that the real world still happened, with rain that was raw and wind that bellowed.
‘That’ll likely be it for the day,’ her mother said softly as she stood looking out the front window towards the pier opposite. They’d had more tea and home-made brown bread, settled in and now Lucy could almost convince herself that she’d never left.
‘It’s no good,’ Lucy said eventually, pulling herself up out of the chair. ‘I can’t sit here for the night; I need to stretch my legs.’ She was too used to walking miles around hospital corridors to settle down just yet. ‘I’ll stroll to the pier for a breath of fresh air; give Dora a chance to have a sniff about too.’ She looked down at Dora then who nuzzled her snout deeply between her front paws. There was no way she was going out in that. ‘Niall, do you fancy getting a bit of fresh air?’