Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [102]
“Can we move somewhere that we can have more privacy, please?” She glared at the two neighbors, who were still hovering at the corner, and they vanished quickly.
“I don’t want any more time with you,” Lisa said. She knew she sounded pettish but she didn’t care.
Moira was calm but furious at the same time. “In all this hymn of praise about Noel,” she said, “you managed to forget that he went off the rails and was back on the drink. That was a situation where the baby was at risk and not one of you alerted me.”
“It was over before it began,” Lisa said. “No point in alerting you and starting World War Three!”
Moira looked at her steadily for a moment. “We are all on the same side,” she said eventually.
“No, we’re not,” Lisa said. “You want to take Frankie away. We want to keep her. How’s that the same side?”
“We all want what is best for her.” Moira spoke as if to a slow learner.
“It’s best for all of us if she stays with Noel, Moira.” Lisa sounded weary suddenly. “She keeps him off the drink and keeps his head down at his studies so that he’ll be a good, educated father for her when the time comes for her to know such things. And she keeps me sane too. I have a lot of worries and considerations in my life, but minding Frankie sort of grounds me. It gives it all some purpose, if you know what I mean.”
Moira sighed. “I do know what you mean. You see, in a way, she does exactly the same for me. Minding Frankie is important to me too. I never had a chance as a child. I want her to have a start of some kind, not to get bogged down by a confused childhood like I did.”
Lisa was stunned. Moira had never admitted anything personal before. “Don’t talk to me about childhood! I bet mine could leave yours in the ha’penny place!” Lisa said in a chirpy voice. Moira didn’t know what to say, then she surprised herself as much as she did Lisa.
“You don’t feel like having supper tonight, do you? It’s just that I’m a bit beaten. I was down in my old home and it was all a bit upsetting and there seems to be nobody in town …”
Lisa ignored the gracelessness of the invitation. She didn’t want to go back to the flat alone. There was nothing in—well, there might be a tin of something in the kitchen cupboard or a pack of pasta in sauce in the freezer. But it would be lonely. It might be better to hear what Moira had to say, but would it only be more of the same?
“Will we agree that Frankie is not on the agenda?” Lisa asked.
“Frankie who?” Moira said, with a strange kind of lopsided look on her face. Lisa realized that it was meant to be a smile.
They chose to go to Ennio’s trattoria. It was a family restaurant: Ennio himself cooked and greeted; his son waited on the tables. Ennio had lived in Dublin for rather more than twenty years and was married to an Irishwoman; he knew that having an Italian accent added to the atmosphere. Anton, on the other hand, had said to Lisa that Ennio was a fool of the first order and that he would never get anywhere. He never advertised, you never saw celebrities going in and out, he never got any reviews or press attention. It seemed like an act of independence to go there.
Moira had often passed the place and wondered who would pay seven euros for a spaghetti Bolognese when you could make it at home for three or four euros. For her it was an act of defiance to go there, defying her natural thrift and caution.
Ennio welcomed them with a delight that made it appear as if he had been waiting for their visit for weeks. He gave them huge red and white napkins, a drink on the house and the news that the cannelloni was like the food of angels—they would love it with an almighty love. He had opened his restaurant two decades ago and his simple, fresh food had proved instantly popular. Since then, word of mouth had kept the place full to bursting almost every night. Lisa thought to herself that Anton might be wrong about Ennio. The place was almost full already, everyone was happy, there were hardly any overheads.