But most of all she relished the feeling of safety, the sense of belonging that came from being a cherished member of her family.
Her best girlfriends were not so lucky, she knew that, which made her appreciate her own family that much more. Carly, more often than not, went home to an empty house, because her mother worked at an old people’s home and kept most peculiar hours, and her father was long dead.
As for Denise, she was in much the same situation, in a sense. Her parents owned a small bar and restaurant in nearby Kent, and they were always there cooking and serving their customers at all hours of the day and night. Even so, it wasn’t all that profitable, according to Denise. Katie often wondered why they bothered to keep it open; she supposed it was the only way they knew how to eke out a living.
Of the three of them, Katie had long realized that she was the one who was the most fortunate, the one who had been truly blessed. Even though her mother also worked, she did so at home, keeping the books and doing the paperwork for the Byrne family business. She had a small office at the top of the house, and so she was always there for Katie and Finian. Niall, who was nineteen, was already working with his father in the building company.
At last Katie took a step forward and moved into the kitchen. Her mother was standing near the stove with a spatula in her hand, and she straightened and glanced over her shoulder on hearing the sound of footsteps.
At the sight of her daughter, Maureen Byrne’s face lit up. ‘Well, there you are, Katie Mary Bridget Byrne! But late again, so I see.’
‘I’m sorry, Mom, I really am. I got caught up with another rehearsal.’ Rushing across the floor, Katie flung her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly. Maureen Erin O’Keefe Byrne was the best. The very best.
Against her mother’s hair, Katie whispered, ‘I’ll make up for it, Momma. I’ll finish the cooking and set the table and do the dishes later. Just say you’re not angry with me.’
Drawing away, Maureen stared into her daughter’s bright blue eyes, twin reflections of her own, and said with a light laugh, ‘Oh don’t be so silly, mavourneen, of course I’m not mad at you. And don’t worry, there’s nothing much left to do, at least there’s no cooking anyway. Still, you could be setting the table for me…that’s a grand idea.’
Katie nodded and exclaimed, ‘I do feel awful, Mom, letting you down this way. You’ve had to do everything yourself and you’re not well yet. I should have been home earlier.’ She bit her lip, guilt-ridden, knowing her mother was still debilitated after her six-week bout with bronchitis.
‘Oh get along with you, Katie, ‘tis not important, and I’m feeling much better today. Besides, Finian helped me.’ Her lilting laugh rang out again. ‘Why, that boy’s becoming the perfect little assistant, I can tell you.’
Katie laughed with her, peered around the kitchen and asked, ‘And where is our little scholar?’
‘I suspect he’s off watching TV in the back room. I told him he could, once he’d peeled the vegetables, put out the garbage, and washed the pans in the sink. He’s a good boy really.’
Thinking out loud, Katie murmured, ‘I wonder why Finian has suddenly decided to become such a paragon of virtue, Mom? Could there be an ulterior motive?’
Maureen nodded. ‘I’m sure of it, Katie. He’s trying to please me for some reason.’ She smiled indulgently. ‘He’s a nice boy, but he’s brilliant, and like you I also think he’s plotting something. But what that is I can’t imagine. ‘Tis not important, darlin’.’
‘I guess not,’ Katie agreed, knowing that her mother was correct about Finian’s brilliance. He had an extraordinary mind for a boy of twelve, and in some ways he was old beyond his years.
Maureen, meanwhile, brought her attention back to the stove, began to stir the onions she was frying in the skillet, explaining, ‘I’ll pop these in the lamb stew for a bit of extra flavour, then I’ll help you set the table. After that we can –’ Maureen did not finish her sentence. She broke off, unexpectedly afflicted with a violent attack of coughing. Putting the spatula down quickly, she dug into her apron pocket for a tissue and covered her mouth with it.
The coughing went on for so long Katie became alarmed, and she eyed her mother with apprehension. ‘Are you all right, Mom? Can I get you anything? What can I do?’
Maureen was unable to answer; she simply averted her head.
Katie cried, ‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll finish everything.’
Gradually Maureen became quieter, and she finally murmured, ‘I’m fine, Katie darlin’. Don’t fuss so.’
‘Take it easy now, Momma. I can set the table by myself,’ Katie answered in a more assertive voice, and immediately strode over to the Welsh dresser in the corner of the room. After taking down the white plates they used every day, she carried them over to the large square table near the picture window. The table had already been covered with a red-and-white checked cloth, and once she had deposited the plates, she went to get the other items they needed for supper.
Maureen had completely recovered, and she began to spoon the onions into the stew. Without looking up, she remarked, ‘Once you’ve set the table, it would be nice if you made a cup of tea for us, Katie. I’d like that.’
‘Yes, Mom, I will.’
Eventually Maureen walked over to the hearth and stood with her back to it, observing her daughter flitting around the kitchen. The girl was her pride and joy. She doted on her, spoiled her, yet she tempered her love with a great deal of discipline. Maureen was a hard taskmaster, especially when it came to school, homework, and household chores.
How alike we are in so many ways, especially physically, Maureen thought, yet we don’t have the same character or personality. We’re entirely different on that score. She’s more ambitious and driven than I was, and she wants so much more than I ever did. Katie wants the world in her arms…she wants the stage, the bright lights, the excitement, the applause, the success, and the fame. Yes, she wants it all, and of course she’ll get it, I’ve no doubts about that.
For a moment or two Maureen thought about her own life. I got what I wanted, thank God, so why shouldn’t Katie? Her dreams and desires, hopes and aspirations are very different from mine, but hers are just as real as mine. I craved marriage and a family, and I was fortunate that I found a good man, a man who loved me, still loves me, and whom I love. And I have fine, healthy, drug-free, responsible children, and a comfortable home, a beautiful garden, and a happy life in the country with my family. That was my greatest ambition, the dream I dreamed, and it did come true. I’ve been so blessed since I came to America.
The year had been 1960 and she had been exactly the same age as Katie was now – just seventeen. And her sister Bridget had been nineteen. They had emigrated with their parents, Sean and Catriona O’Keefe, and settled in New York. They had been lucky in that they had all found work relatively quickly; Bridget had opted for a career in real estate and had joined a small but prestigious firm, and Maureen had become the showroom model for the great designer Pauline Trigère, who, once she had seen her, had decided her long, lean figure was ideal for the elegant and superbly-cut clothes the designer created.
Her mother, Catriona, had also gone into fashion, in her own way; she had become a saleslady on the designer floor at Bloomingdale’s department store. Her father, Sean, a master craftsman, had found
