Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [112]
“That’s where we’ll go when we go to New York later on in the year. Emily will mark our card.”
“That’s if I can ever get myself on the plane.” Muttie shook his head. “I seem to have run out of puff, Emily. Hooves here wants me to take him up to have a drink with my Associates, but I find the walk exhausts me.”
“Do you get to see them at all?” Emily knew how much Muttie loved talking horses to the men in the bar while Hooves sat with his head on Muttie’s knee and his eyes full of adoration.
“Oh, Dr. Hat is very good. And sometimes young Declan Carroll gets a fierce thirst on him and he drives me up there for a few pints.”
Emily knew very well that Declan would often pretend a fierce thirst and get himself a pint or two of lemonade shandy while he drove his elderly neighbor up to the pub.
“And how are all the family?” Emily inquired.
As she had expected, they all seemed to be making sudden visits to Ireland from Chicago. Muttie was shaking his head at the coincidence of it all.
“I don’t know where they get the money, Emily, I really don’t. I mean, there’s a recession out in those places as well as here.”
“And the twins? Busy as ever?”
“Oh, Maud and Simon are wonderful. There’s less chat about their going to New Jersey, but then again Maud has an Italian boyfriend—a really polite, respectful young man called Marco. They’re all setting up this phone for us where you can see the person at the other end. It’s called Skype and this weekend we’ll be calling my daughter Marian in Chicago and we’ll see her and all her family. It doesn’t sound right to me.”
“Amazing thing, technology,” Emily agreed.
“Yes, but it’s almost going too quickly. Fancy our children getting on planes and coming from the ends of the earth over here to see us and then this magic phone. I don’t understand it at all.…”
Emily went to the thrift shop and found the twins working there. Lisa was in a corner sighing over her notes. There were no customers.
“We don’t all have to be here,” Emily said, taking off her coat.
“Maud and I were just wondering …”
“We don’t want to put anyone out …”
“It’s just there’s this Italian cookery demonstration …”
“At Ennio’s restaurant on the quays …”
“And Maud fancies the son of the house there rotten …” Simon wanted everything to be clear.
“Not true. We’ve been out a few times …”
“But it’s starting in half an hour, you see …”
“And if it was possible for us to work here some other time …”
Emily cut across this double act. “Go now. This minute,” she said.
“If you’re sure …”
“If it’s not putting you out …”
“Is that the pasta house where I saw you?” Lisa asked suddenly.
“You were there with Moira. Traitor!” Maud took no prisoners.
“You saw her socially?” Simon sounded disgusted.
“It was different. She was lonely.”
“I wonder why.…” Maud was unforgiving.
“Are you still here?” Emily asked, opening the door of the thrift shop. As they left, she turned to Lisa. “Go back to Chestnut Court and study properly, Lisa, and I’ll do the pricing on the new clothes that have come in. Otherwise you and I will waste the morning and not a penny will be raised for St. Jarlath.”
Lisa looked at her in surprise. “But you don’t believe any of this St. Jarlath nonsense, do you, Emily?”
“I suppose we’re just keeping our options open.” Emily was slightly apologetic.
“But think about it, Emily. If there were a God, then I would be engaged to Anton, Stella wouldn’t have died in childbirth and Frankie would have a mother. Noel would be recognized for what he could do at Hall’s, Muttie wouldn’t be dying of cancer, you would be running the world or the civil service or something, with a nice, undemanding husband to cook you a meal when you got home every night.”
“What makes you think that’s what I’d want a God to get for me?” Emily asked.
“What else would you want? Except to run things …”
“I’d want something totally different: a home of my own, the chance to take up painting to see if I was any good at it, a small office from which I could