Liam. Maybe they had wanted a girl.
âNaturally Joe and I would have loved to have had a little girl but to tell the truth I donât know how one would have survived in our household with all the men talk and sport and football and old GAA guff that goes on! Thatâs why I love coming over here to you lot for all the tears and tantrums and stories. Why do men never know any good stories or gossip?â she pondered.
Moya laughed.
âAnyways I wouldnât be without my boys for the world.â
âIâd better help passing round the smoked salmon and brown bread,â Moya said as her aunt and mother sat down together chatting, heads together.
A month before the baby was due Maeve Dillon was brought into hospital as her blood pressure had gone through the roof and she needed total bed rest. Their father arranged for a local woman, Mary Dwyer, to come in and give a hand with the housework and ironing and to cook their dinner when they came in from school. Wearing a selection of ancient Aran cardigans and a brown tweed skirt sheâd sit for hours watching the TV or doing the crossword in the daily paper, her huge body wedged in the armchair as one of her meat and potato concoctions bubbled on the cooker.
âShe smells of BO,â complained Romy who was collected from school by her.
âShush,â hissed Kate, who hated the disruption and the boiled potatoes and was trying to work on her science project, disappearing to her room as soon as sheâd eaten.
Moya took it on herself to scrub and clean the kitchen with Jif every night.
âYouâre cracked,â jeered Romy.
Two and a half weeks later all the worry and waiting was ended when Sean Francis Dillon was born, weighing in at five pounds and seven ounces.
Looking at their new brother in the little crib beside their motherâs bed in the maternity ward, they all agreed he looked tiny, with his baldy head and snub nose and wizened expression. Five days later their mother brought him home.
Sean was small, but his crying was loud enough to be heard all over the house, their mother dropping whatever she was doing to attend to him.
He was a poor feeder and after two weeks of his fussing and crying and not gaining any weight their mother had reverted to using a bottle and formula to feed him.
And as Romy had predicted everything did change. Her position as the baby, the youngest in the house, was usurped as she became âSeanâs sisterâ. The house was organized around the tiny person who slept in the small bedroom beside their parentsâ room. Maeve Dillon, unwilling to leave him till he got a bit bigger and put on weight, contented herself with staying home. Their father deserted his usual after-work pintsand dinners and late-night meetings, coming home to join them for tea, checking on his son and lifting him up in his arms and parading him around the house.
The girls were bewildered by his intense affection for Sean and the havoc created by such a tiny mite. However, over the weeks they each grew to love their small brother with a similar intensity.
Chapter Seven
âSMILE, GIRLS!â COAXED their mother, looking through the camera lens as they stood at the front door step in their school uniforms. The morning sun glimmered over Rossmoreâs village and harbour, making them squint and fidget as the light flashed through the trees in the driveway.
âTry to look happy. Itâs a big occasion, Romy starting secondary school.â
âWeâll be late on our very first day back,â worried Kate, glancing at her wrist-watch. âRomy, for heavenâs sake put your chin up and stop messing.â
Moya tilted her head in the bright September sunlight, pulling in her stomach and putting a wide smile on her face. She couldnât wait to be finished with this awful uniform, her last year in school over, adulthood beckoning. Poor old Romy, only starting in the convent and having Mrs
âNaturally Joe and I would have loved to have had a little girl but to tell the truth I donât know how one would have survived in our household with all the men talk and sport and football and old GAA guff that goes on! Thatâs why I love coming over here to you lot for all the tears and tantrums and stories. Why do men never know any good stories or gossip?â she pondered.
Moya laughed.
âAnyways I wouldnât be without my boys for the world.â
âIâd better help passing round the smoked salmon and brown bread,â Moya said as her aunt and mother sat down together chatting, heads together.
A month before the baby was due Maeve Dillon was brought into hospital as her blood pressure had gone through the roof and she needed total bed rest. Their father arranged for a local woman, Mary Dwyer, to come in and give a hand with the housework and ironing and to cook their dinner when they came in from school. Wearing a selection of ancient Aran cardigans and a brown tweed skirt sheâd sit for hours watching the TV or doing the crossword in the daily paper, her huge body wedged in the armchair as one of her meat and potato concoctions bubbled on the cooker.
âShe smells of BO,â complained Romy who was collected from school by her.
âShush,â hissed Kate, who hated the disruption and the boiled potatoes and was trying to work on her science project, disappearing to her room as soon as sheâd eaten.
Moya took it on herself to scrub and clean the kitchen with Jif every night.
âYouâre cracked,â jeered Romy.
Two and a half weeks later all the worry and waiting was ended when Sean Francis Dillon was born, weighing in at five pounds and seven ounces.
Looking at their new brother in the little crib beside their motherâs bed in the maternity ward, they all agreed he looked tiny, with his baldy head and snub nose and wizened expression. Five days later their mother brought him home.
Sean was small, but his crying was loud enough to be heard all over the house, their mother dropping whatever she was doing to attend to him.
He was a poor feeder and after two weeks of his fussing and crying and not gaining any weight their mother had reverted to using a bottle and formula to feed him.
And as Romy had predicted everything did change. Her position as the baby, the youngest in the house, was usurped as she became âSeanâs sisterâ. The house was organized around the tiny person who slept in the small bedroom beside their parentsâ room. Maeve Dillon, unwilling to leave him till he got a bit bigger and put on weight, contented herself with staying home. Their father deserted his usual after-work pintsand dinners and late-night meetings, coming home to join them for tea, checking on his son and lifting him up in his arms and parading him around the house.
The girls were bewildered by his intense affection for Sean and the havoc created by such a tiny mite. However, over the weeks they each grew to love their small brother with a similar intensity.
Chapter Seven
âSMILE, GIRLS!â COAXED their mother, looking through the camera lens as they stood at the front door step in their school uniforms. The morning sun glimmered over Rossmoreâs village and harbour, making them squint and fidget as the light flashed through the trees in the driveway.
âTry to look happy. Itâs a big occasion, Romy starting secondary school.â
âWeâll be late on our very first day back,â worried Kate, glancing at her wrist-watch. âRomy, for heavenâs sake put your chin up and stop messing.â
Moya tilted her head in the bright September sunlight, pulling in her stomach and putting a wide smile on her face. She couldnât wait to be finished with this awful uniform, her last year in school over, adulthood beckoning. Poor old Romy, only starting in the convent and having Mrs
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