Free Lilac Bus by Maeve Binchy

breath again. She spoke first to the girl who worked there.
    ‘Treasa, would you take off your apron like a good child and run up to Ryan’s. Tell them that we’reshort-staffed tonight and we’ll be closing early. Tell them if they want anything to come down in the next half hour for it otherwise they’ll be disappointed.’
    ‘Who will I tell, mam?’ the child seemed worried.
    ‘That’s a point – not much use telling poor Mrs Ryan these days. Let me see, if there’s anyone behind the bar helping, like Bart Kennedy, anyone like that, someone who looks in charge.’
    ‘Celia’s home: she was on the bus, she’ll probably have got behind the counter by now,’ Mikey said.
    ‘That’s it, tell Celia.’
    Treasa skipped off up the road, pleased to be out of the heat.
    ‘Where’s everyone?’ Mikey looked around.
    ‘Oh there’s been a lot happening, I’ll tell you all when we get back. Keep a brave face on it for half an hour more and then it will be done.’ A trickle of people came in, and Mikey served them, and just as Mary had guessed would happen a great influx came from Ryan’s pub. They were full of good-natured abuse about it being against the law of the land to close the chipper before the pub. Mary had laughed good-naturedly and said wasn’t she going above and beyond the call of duty to let them know now rather than have them going home with stomachs full of beer and nothing to soak it up.
    She didn’t want a portion for herself, so Mikey wrapped up his own choice, and when they had drained the fat, scrubbed the tops and swept upanything that could be swept up into black plastic bags which were tied with little wires at the top, they crossed the street and went home.
    Mary heated a plate under the hot water tap, got out the tomato sauce and some bread and butter.
    ‘Will I wet you tea or would you like a drop of anything?’
    They got a bottle of Guinness each and sat down.
    ‘Billy’s gone. Gone for good.’
    He stared at her, fork half-way to his mouth.
    ‘He went this day before lunch, he’ll not be back. Ever.’
    ‘Ah no, Mary. That’s not possible.’
    She took a sip of her drink and made a face.
    ‘I never like the first sip, but it tastes grand after that.’ She smiled a weak little smile.
    Mikey swallowed and said, ‘It was just a bit of a row, that’s all. People have rows, they get patched up.’
    ‘No, there was no row, there was no difference of opinion even.’
    Mikey remembered the way the twins had said there was no fighting when he was around the place.
    ‘But just a bit of a barney now and then, these things sort themselves out, really they do.’ He was pleading now.
    ‘No, I’ll tell you it from start to finish – there was no row. Back there early on in the summer we did haverows all right: he was very touchy, I thought, bite the head off you as soon as look at you, but he said that’s the way I was too. The children even noticed us.’
    ‘So what happened?’
    ‘Well I don’t know, honestly. But anyway we had a great summer, as you know, business was booming. He used to be tired but he was never cross any more, and what with the baby getting to be so grand – you know they’re like divils for the first few weeks – anyway we hadn’t a worry under the sun.’ She stopped and looked away beyond him.
    Mikey was silent.
    ‘Eat up your fish and chips, Mikey, you can eat and listen.’
    ‘I can’t.’
    She lifted the plate from him and put it into the oven very low down. ‘You’ll eat it later then. Today was when it all happened, and if I hadn’t come back I wouldn’t have known: I wouldn’t have known at this moment. I wouldn’t have known until the end of next week. And the whole of Rathdoon would have known before me.’
    ‘Known what, for God’s sake?’
    ‘He’s gone off with Eileen Walsh, you know the one we said was too good to be working in a chipper. Well, she was far too good, she was only biding her time to go off with the owner of