The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2

old age of thirty-nine had slunk home to lick his wounds at his mother’s house. She’d have dearly loved to have rubbed Elsa’s nose in all of this as she looked down that long beak of hers waiting for her to say yes to her Christmas dinner invitation.
It rankled too the reference to ‘poor Noah’. He was doing fine. Sure, the first wee while had been rough as he adjusted to all the changes their separation wrought, but of late he’d settled down and was back to his usual, happy self, pestering her constantly for a gerbil. He hadn’t shut up about it, in fact. He’d forgotten all about wanting Mummy and Daddy to live together in their old house again because becoming the owner of a small, furry brown rodent was the number one priority in his life.
Roisin’s friend Stephanie had warned her not to go there and she was inclined to agree, as was her landlord, who’d enunciated loudly—he was hard of hearing—that no animals were allowed. Was a gerbil an animal? Roisin wasn’t sure but it was a good excuse to appease Noah, so she’d run with it. ‘They look small and innocuous enough,’ Stephanie had said. ‘You could even say they’re quite sweet looking but Rosi think about the havoc Charlie caused bringing Beyoncé to school on pet day.’
Roisin had nodded. She well remembered the story of Stephanie’s daughter’s gerbil escaping and terrorising the headmistress by hiding out in the toilets. Still, the look on Noah’s face when he’d asked whether she thought Father Christmas would get his letter in time because there was NOTHING he wanted more in the world than a gerbil and he’d been ever such a good boy had made her waiver. Perhaps she could get away with a soft toy version. Ah, who was she kidding?
That’s what she needed to remember, she told herself looking down at her son. Today was about him, not her, and besides if she hadn’t agreed to come then Colin might have put his foot down regarding her spending Christmas day proper with her family in Dublin. They’d yet to iron out all the nitty gritty finer points of custody where their son was concerned but seemed to have settled into an unspoken arrangement whereby, he spent every second weekend with his daddy and Granny Quealey.
Her son’s hat was pulled down low and he was dwarfed inside the jacket Colin had bought him a few weeks ago despite his proclamations of trying to get back on his feet and that the maintenance he was currently paying out was daylight robbery. There’d been nothing wrong with Noah’s old jacket but Colin was a show pony, always had been and appearances mattered to him. She could sense, despite his five-year-old body being hidden inside an expensive layer of goose down, Noah twitching with an energetic excitement at the thought of what lay in wait for him inside Granny Quealey’s house. Throw in some sugary treats that were bound to be coming his way very soon and he’d be bouncing off the walls in no time.
That was another thing, she thought, a gloved finger pressing the doorbell and holding it down for longer than was necessary; those weekends spent here saw Noah get spoiled rotten. He’d burst in through the door of their small flat on a Sunday afternoon full of stories about ice creams and trips to the cinema. She felt as though she were in a competition for her son’s affections, one in which not only the financial odds were stacked against her but the opportunity to simply relax and have fun with him too. What annoyed her most of all and yes, she knew it was irrational but she couldn’t help how she felt was Elsa serving him up chicken nuggets and chips, his all-time favourite. Her son was very quick to point out that she didn’t put anything green on his plate to ruin his dinner either. He’d say this while waving a piece of broccoli at her in an accusatory fashion. Colin would have told her off when they were still living under the same roof if she’d put an unbalanced meal like that in front of Noah. Would he say “boo” to his mother, though? No, he would not.
Their roles had changed since they’d parted ways. He it seemed, got to play at being jolly, good time daddy every second weekend, something he’d never been good at before but seemed to be hitting his stride with now, while she did the day to day parenting hard yards. It wasn’t fair.
Her mood darkened as she jiggled inside her coat waiting for the door to open. She’d never breathe a word about how their new arrangement made her feel to Colin because his face would scrunch up in that annoying pinched way it did when something pained him and he’d say, ‘Well, Roisin, it wasn’t my decision to separate nor is it my fault Noah has to split his time between his parents.’ He’d be right too, it had been her decision and not one she’d taken lightly. She and Colin had not been a good match. It was also one, despite her and Noah’s flat with its moaning and groaning pipes and dodgy hot water, she didn’t regret. ‘Hurry up,’ she muttered, her breath emitting another puff of white into the air.
‘You look like you’re smoking, Mummy.’ Noah grinned revealing two new front teeth finally beginning to grow down. His lisp was still pronounced though. He reached over and snapped a twig from the spindly hydrangea in the front garden.
‘What are you doing?’
Noah didn’t get a chance to answer because the door swung open to reveal Elsa Quealey. The smile on her face drooped as she took in the sight of her beloved grandson holding a twig between his fingers and sucking on it as though his life depended on it.
Chapter 2
‘What are you doing, Noah?’ Elsa frowned, watching as he exhaled a white