it was of the famine graves, the workhouse, the history of the cathedrals, the Siege of Derry and the Burning of Lundy. I was almost tempted to ask her if she had eaten a tourist guide earlier in the day but I decided to say no more.
“You know a lot about this place,” I commented as we climbed down the steep stairs of the walls and crossed to a pub called Badger’s, where my mother ordered two glasses of wine and looked at the lunch menu even though I was still full from the scones an hour before.
Taking our seats in a quiet corner, my mother sat back and sipped from her glass. “You don’t get a place like Derry out of your mind,” she said. “It’s changed so much, sweetheart. So much of it looks so different to the place I remember, but it feels the same. It feels so safe and sound – it feels like home.”
“Meadow Falls is home, Mom,” I said softly.
“A part of me will always consider this home,” she said. “And I suppose a part of me will always wonder why I left.”
“You left because you fell in love with Dad,” I said. “Remember?”
She sipped from her glass again, just as she had sipped from her teacup earlier, as if she was thinking very carefully about what to say next.
“I’m not sure . . . I don’t think . . . there was more to it than that.”
Chapter 7
Of course I miss you. Of course I love you. I can’t imagine ever not loving you.
* * *
By the time I got back to Sam’s my head was spinning, and not just from the mid-afternoon glass of wine and the slight tinge of a hangover from the night before. I had two hours to get ready for that night’s entertainment – and two hours to try and process what my mother had told me. I doubted, as I turned on the strong streams of the power shower, that even the most invigorating of showers would clear the weird thoughts from my head. But I knew it had taken a lot for my mom to start talking to me – and that I would be expected to be the belle of the ball at the family dinner Auntie Dolores had arranged for us.
Sam had called me earlier to warn me what was planned – and warn me of the family traditions I needed to be aware of – such as the after-dinner drinking, singing and storytelling. “Pick your party piece,” he said.
“My party piece?”
“The song you will sing.”
“I don’t sing.”
“Yes, you do,” he said confidently.
“No. I really don’t. I was the only girl in High School asked to mime during our graduation ceremony.”
“You’re a Hegarty,” he said. “You sing. Whether you like it or not. Inability to hit notes does not exclude you from the after-dinner joy that is performing your party piece. You will sing or you will be tortured until you do. Have you ever seen Father Ted ? The character Mrs Doyle with her tea? Well, the Hegartys are all like that about the singing. It will be all ‘ya will, go on’ until you blast a wee something out. So believe me, cousin, you are best to just choose something – a short something – and get it over and done with. They will not allow you to rest until you get it out of the way.”
I contemplated this as I stood under the shower, and thought of my mother and the day that had passed.
“I didn’t know your father when I moved to the States,” she had said.
“Of course you didn’t, not really. You don’t really know someone until you live with them. And I’m sure in those days you didn’t live with someone before you were married.”
“No, pet, you didn’t. But when I say I didn’t know your father, I mean that we met after I moved over. Some years after, if the truth be told.”
I looked at her, struggling to process things. “You didn’t meet him until then? You left Ireland, without anyone to go to? I thought it was because you were chasing your big romantic dream?”
She gulped her drink. I don’t think I had ever seen my mother gulp an alcoholic drink in her life.
“I was chasing something,” she said. “It was such a long
“You know a lot about this place,” I commented as we climbed down the steep stairs of the walls and crossed to a pub called Badger’s, where my mother ordered two glasses of wine and looked at the lunch menu even though I was still full from the scones an hour before.
Taking our seats in a quiet corner, my mother sat back and sipped from her glass. “You don’t get a place like Derry out of your mind,” she said. “It’s changed so much, sweetheart. So much of it looks so different to the place I remember, but it feels the same. It feels so safe and sound – it feels like home.”
“Meadow Falls is home, Mom,” I said softly.
“A part of me will always consider this home,” she said. “And I suppose a part of me will always wonder why I left.”
“You left because you fell in love with Dad,” I said. “Remember?”
She sipped from her glass again, just as she had sipped from her teacup earlier, as if she was thinking very carefully about what to say next.
“I’m not sure . . . I don’t think . . . there was more to it than that.”
Chapter 7
Of course I miss you. Of course I love you. I can’t imagine ever not loving you.
* * *
By the time I got back to Sam’s my head was spinning, and not just from the mid-afternoon glass of wine and the slight tinge of a hangover from the night before. I had two hours to get ready for that night’s entertainment – and two hours to try and process what my mother had told me. I doubted, as I turned on the strong streams of the power shower, that even the most invigorating of showers would clear the weird thoughts from my head. But I knew it had taken a lot for my mom to start talking to me – and that I would be expected to be the belle of the ball at the family dinner Auntie Dolores had arranged for us.
Sam had called me earlier to warn me what was planned – and warn me of the family traditions I needed to be aware of – such as the after-dinner drinking, singing and storytelling. “Pick your party piece,” he said.
“My party piece?”
“The song you will sing.”
“I don’t sing.”
“Yes, you do,” he said confidently.
“No. I really don’t. I was the only girl in High School asked to mime during our graduation ceremony.”
“You’re a Hegarty,” he said. “You sing. Whether you like it or not. Inability to hit notes does not exclude you from the after-dinner joy that is performing your party piece. You will sing or you will be tortured until you do. Have you ever seen Father Ted ? The character Mrs Doyle with her tea? Well, the Hegartys are all like that about the singing. It will be all ‘ya will, go on’ until you blast a wee something out. So believe me, cousin, you are best to just choose something – a short something – and get it over and done with. They will not allow you to rest until you get it out of the way.”
I contemplated this as I stood under the shower, and thought of my mother and the day that had passed.
“I didn’t know your father when I moved to the States,” she had said.
“Of course you didn’t, not really. You don’t really know someone until you live with them. And I’m sure in those days you didn’t live with someone before you were married.”
“No, pet, you didn’t. But when I say I didn’t know your father, I mean that we met after I moved over. Some years after, if the truth be told.”
I looked at her, struggling to process things. “You didn’t meet him until then? You left Ireland, without anyone to go to? I thought it was because you were chasing your big romantic dream?”
She gulped her drink. I don’t think I had ever seen my mother gulp an alcoholic drink in her life.
“I was chasing something,” she said. “It was such a long
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