By Mae Leonard

 

The four of us, long time friends, set out together on a cold Sunday afternoon that I remember well because of the orange.

We knew that the boys were heading out to Loughmore, near the village Mungret, Co. Limerick. Everyone expected the lake to be frozen over and safe enough for skating, as it had been the previous year. I had my doubts for although the Shannon was edged with ice, the surface wasn’t anywhere near to being frozen.

Nonetheless, Loughmore was where the boys were and, of course, we weren’t chasing them – we were going to be ‘just passing by’.

We sauntered up through the centre of Limerick City – where the shop window displays were dishevelled after the January Sales. We caught our reflection in the mirror of Goodwin’s Fine China Store and we paused to preen. Four girls – no – young ladies now – buttoned up in Swing-Back coats – I think we called them ‘Swaggers’ – mine was black and white check that had originally been my mother‘s and she had the local dressmaker remake it to my size. I loved it and wore my new red angora beret on the back of my head with a marcasite lizard brooch pinned at its centre as the current fashion dictated.

People who passed by us sniffed and smiled. No wonder. We had doused ourselves in our favourite perfume – Helena Rubenstein’s Apple Blossom that came in a pink plastic bottle and was top of our Santa Claus list.

Our walk took us up through the gracious red-brick buildings of Georgian Limerick. By the time we reached the Crescent the cold air was beginning to bite. So were my first pair of high-heels and my toes were suffering a bit too. Loughmore was quite a long way out on the south side of the city but distance was no object when there were boys on our minds.

We sang snatches of our favourite pop songs to smarten our pace – Buddy Holly’s ‘There you’re going baby here am I – You left me here so I could sit and cry – and Brendan Bowyer’s ‘Kiss Me Quick’ which was top of the first ever Irish Pop Music charts.

O’Meara’s, on a corner in Ballinacurra, was the only shop open in Limerick that Sunday. It was like an oasis. There was a tempting display of Urney chocolate bars but something else caught my eye. There were large oranges in a wooden crate glistening under the shop lights each one half-wrapped in Sunkist California tissue – I simply had to have one.

The other three laughed at my choice on such a cold day as they shared their chocolate. I dug my thumbnail into the skin to peel my orange and everyone backed away as jets of juice squirted upwards and outwards – our gorgeous coats could be ruined!

My friends moved on quickly. Oh, but this orange was super special. It had a dimple that made it difficult to peel and I had to break it open and there, nestled inside, I found another tiny orange. Its fresh smell stayed with me for days afterwards blotting out the scent of Helena Rubenstein’s Apple Blossom.

Years later I discovered that this was a Navel orange and it has its own amazing story – starting off in Brazil and eventually finding its way to California. Apparently these particular oranges are at their very best from late December until March so no wonder I enjoyed it so much – it was the season for it.

I have never forgotten that Sunday afternoon walk because of that orange. Outside O’Meara’s shop we decided that Loughmore was too far for us to walk, boys or no boys, we did an about turn and headed homewards.
The four of us never walked together like that again. That year brought choices that took us by surprise. Four different roads changed our lives and our friendship forever. One left Limerick to become a nurse, another entered a convent in Texas, the third remained in Limerick where she met the love of her life and was the first to be married. My choice eventually took me away from my beloved Limerick to the ‘Plains of Kildare’.

 

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