‘I heard Brad Pitt hates being interviewed.’
I gave her my most dazzling smile and said, ‘Have you met him?’
‘Of course not,’ she snapped.
‘Oh, right. Well, he’s actually really charming and only dislikes being interviewed by presenters who ask him about his private life. He also told me he has a thing for Irish women,’ I lied, while Hilary smouldered.
‘So when is this amazing interview going to be on?’ she asked.
Without skipping a beat – I was getting good at this – I said, ‘It’s due to be aired over the next week. Probably Thursday in conjunction with his new movie’s premieére, which I’m also covering.’
That there was no interview to air was irrelevant. I hadn’t seen these people in ten years and I probably wouldn’t for another ten. Besides, I was enjoying winding her up.
‘It sounds almost too good to be true. I’ll have to stay in and watch you flirting with him.’
‘I hope you can squeeze it in between tennis and coffee,’ I said, walking off before she could throw her drink over me.
And now, three years later, here I was. Looking awful and feeling deeply insecure.
‘Well, look who it is,’ said Hilary, coming up to us. ‘It’s our TV star. I didn’t expect you to be here, Kate. How did you find time between recording your show? Or has that stunning blonde girl taken over? What happened?’
‘Hi, Hilary, good to see you,’ said Tara, cutting in before I could say anything.
‘Hi – my God, I hope you’re pregnant,’ said Hilary, pointing at Tara’s belly.
The other girls tittered as Tara glowered. ‘Yes, I am pregnant, and it’s wonderful. I love my new shape.’
‘Rather you than me,’ said Hilary, glancing down at her washboard stomach. ‘How anyone would want kids is beyond me. They’re far too much admin. So, anyway, what happened to your show, Kate?’
‘I’ve taken leave of absence,’ I said, gripping my wine glass in an effort to remain calm.
‘So you weren’t replaced?’ she asked.
‘No, I’ve got some time off.’
‘Why would you do that? You’d only just got the job.’
‘I felt like a change of scenery.’
‘I see you’ve also gone for a change of image. What’s with the short hair and scarf? Is that some new trend in London?’
‘Kate came home for personal reasons,’ said Tara, glaring at Hilary in a lame attempt to get her to shut up.
‘Oh, I get it. Your boyfriend dumped you and you cut off your hair. Why do women always do that when they break up with men? It’s such a mistake. Why cut off your best asset?’
I plastered a smile on myface and said nothing.
‘Never mind, plenty more fish in the sea. Are you staying in Dublin?’
‘If you must know, I took time off to come home because mysister has cancer and I wanted to be here for her. I’m also dealing with the “admin” of looking after her twin boys – which, by the way, is very rewarding. You should try it some time. As for boyfriends – I didn’t have one to dump me. And I shaved myhair off the same day my sister’s fell out. I think that answers all your questions, but if you have any more I’ll be at the bar.’
I walked away, followed closely by Tara. ‘You totally cut her down to size,’ she said. ‘You were amazing.’
I turned to her, with tears in my eyes. ‘Then how come I feel so utterly miserable?’ I asked, and downed the wine in one gulp.
25
Miraculously, Mark managed to take Fiona to her sixth chemo session. He was obviously feeling guilty about his upcoming trip to Berlin for four days to present his paper for the Goldwin Prize. She seemed pleased that he was making an effort, even though she was reallysick and spent hours throwing up after the treatment.
Each session made her weaker and I hated to see my sister so ill. I got the boys to make a ‘Best Mummy in the World’ poster to hang at the end of her bed to cheer her up. But they insisted that Teddy deliver it to her, so it was a soggy saliva-y mess by the time he had scampered up the stairs to the bedroom. Still, Fiona oohed and aahed and said it was the most beautiful poster she’d ever seen and I duly pinned it to the wall.
I had told both Fiona and Mark about my upcoming job, Fiona because I knew she’d be pleased for me, and Mark to make sure he was on hand to help out with the twins. He was flying out to Berlin the following day, so it was all falling neatly into place. Until two days before…
Bobby came home from school with a bad cold, which Fiona picked up immediately. Because her immune system was so battered by the chemotherapy, she was susceptible to everysniffle going. Overnight, her cold got a lot worse and she spiked a fever. Mark called the doctor, who said she’d have to be admitted to hospital for a day or two so they could make sure she had enough fluids and bring her temperature down. He assured us it was nothing to worry about, just a bad cold, but due to her low white blood cell count, she couldn’t fight it on her own.
The next day, the day of my job, I brought the twins to school while Mark went into hospital to check on Fiona. He called to tell me that the doctor had said she was improving, but he wanted to keep her in for another day. We could bring her home tomorrow.
‘OK, great. I’ll try to pop in to her before I head off,’ I said, relieved to hear she was on the mend. ‘Now, don’t forget to pick the twins up at twelve. I’m just going back to make their lunch and then I’ll get ready for work.’
‘Actually, Kate, there’s been a bit of a hitch,’ Mark said.
‘What?’
‘I’ve had a call from the co-researcher in Berlin and I need to fly over this afternoon. We’ve had a small crisis on the paper that needs to be ironed out. If we don’t sort it out today we’ll lose our chance of winning. I’m sorry, Kate, but I have to go.’
Was he actually saying these words? Had he lost his mind? He was going nowhere.
‘Mark,’ I said, trying to remain calm, ‘you can’t go anywhere today. I have a job I told you about ten days ago and we agreed that you’d look after your children and wife for the afternoon. You’ll have to do your work via the phone and email.’
‘I can’t, Kate. This needs to be worked out in a laboratory – it’s a very complex and detailed problem. Can you get your dad to help?’
‘He’s in London on a dirty weekend with Sheryl. You’re the only person who can do this. You can’t go, end of story.’
‘I have to go. I’m booked on the two o’clock flight. I have no choice. A year’s work depends on this. My future depends on it.’
‘What about my future? What about my life?’ I shouted. ‘If you don’t collect your kids from school, they’ll be left on the side of the street because I won’t be there to pick up the pieces. I’m not available today. I told you that, so you’ll just have to sort it out yourself. Goodbye,’ I said, slamming down the phone.
No way – no bloody way– was I giving up this job. It was the only thing keeping me sane, my little beacon of light in a few very dark months. To hell with Mark and his stupid competition. He’d have to flyover first thing in the morning as planned.
I got back to the house, made chicken soup and cheesy bread, the way the boys liked, and set it out. All Mark had to do was make sure they ate it. Even he should be able to manage that. I cleaned the house, and just as I was about to leave, Fiona rang. ‘I wanted to wish you luck,’ she said.
‘Thanks. Are you feeling better?’ I asked.
‘Much, thanks. Are you nervous?’
‘Very nervous and veryexcited. I can’t wait to get there and soak it all up. I love live TV – it’s such an adrenaline rush.’
‘I’ll be watching you from here. By the way, is Mark on his way to pick up the boys?’
‘Yes,’ I said. I hadn’t heard from him so I was taking that as a good sign.
‘OK, great. Well, break a leg,’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
As I was driving back to Dad’s to get changed my p
hone rang. It was the boys’ school.
‘Hello?’
‘Ms O’Brien, it’s Mrs Foley here.’
‘Hi.’
‘Are you on your way to pick up the twins?’
‘Isn’t their father there?’
‘If he were here, Ms O’Brien, I’d hardly be calling you, now, would I?’ said the old witch.
‘Well, he should be there because he ’s collecting them today.’
‘I just spoke to Professor Kennedy. He’s at the airport, so I believe it’s you who should be picking the twins up.’
‘He’s where?’
‘At the airport. Now, really, Ms O’Brien, the school closes at twelve, midday, and it’s now a quarter past. This is unacceptable. The boys are quite upset.’
DAMNBOLLOXWANKERSONOFABITCH…
‘I’m on my way.’
I swung the car round, causing havoc on the road, and drove like a maniac to the school. I felt as if my head was going to explode. I didn’t know this level of anger existed. My message minder beeped. It was Mark – the coward had called directly into my voicemail. He had n’t even had the decency to speak to me in person.
‘I’m really sorry, Kate, I know I’ve landed you in it, but this is out of my control. I have to sort out this glitch or the paper is useless. I’ve called Derek, who said he might be able to help out.’
I threw the phone across the car.
When I arrived at the school, the twins were staring forlornly out the window with a cross Mrs Foleytut-tutting behind them. They looked very pleased to see me. Clearly they’d thought they’d been abandoned. It was bad enough having a bald, sick mother in hospital, but to have a useless fecker for a father was really scraping the bottom of the barrel.
I bundled them into the car, trying to pretend everything was fine, then proceeded to drive to the airport in record time. Many was the corner I took on two wheels, many was the red light I broke. I was a woman possessed. The boys giggled in the back. They were having their very own private rollercoaster ride. I flung the car on to the kerb outside Departures, grabbed the boys and ran in. The place was full of happy travellers and I couldn’t see Mark anywhere. Luckily Jack spotted him in the security queue.
‘There’s Daddy!’ he shouted, and ran over to his fugitive father, who looked shocked to see us.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Going somewhere?’
Mark took in my dangerously red face. ‘Hello, Kate.’
‘Here are your children. I’m off to work,’ I said, and stormed away, leaving the twins with their father.
‘Wait!’ Mark shouted, but I kept walking. He caught up with me and grabbed my arm. ‘I have to get that plane.’
‘It’s not my problem,’ I said, walking towards the exit door.
Mark followed me, dragging the twins with him. ‘You have to do me this one last favour, Kate. After this competition is over I promise I’ll be much more hands-on. But I have to go now.’
‘Fuck you and your stupid bloody paper!’ I shouted, as people queuing spun round to see what was going on.
‘There’s no need to cause a scene.’
‘If it’s the only way to get through to you I’ll cause the biggest scene you’ve ever witnessed.’
Mark looked at his watch. ‘Kate, listen to me, I have to get that flight. Fiona understands the importance of this. Please bear with me on this one. Once this is over you can work as many days as you like. I’m sorry but I have to go now.’
‘Don’t even think about it!’ I lunged at him as he tried to walk away.
Meanwhile Bobby tugged at my leg. ‘Jack just did a pee-pee,’ he said, and I turned to see Jack, in tears, standing in a puddle of urine.
‘Oh, Jack, pet,’ I said, bending down to him.
‘I’m sorry, Auntie Kate. The shouting made me scared.’
I looked at Mark. ‘Go on – go. You’re no use here, anyway.’
He bent down to kiss the boys. ‘It’s OK, Jack. Kate and Daddy are being silly. It’ll all be fine now. No more shouting, I promise, but I have to get on the plane. Be good for your auntie, and give Mummy a big kiss for me. I’ll see you very soon.’ Then, to me, he said, ‘Kate, I really am sorry about this, but I have no choice.’
‘Every decision you make is a choice,’ I replied, and went to look for a bathroom where I could clean Jack up.
When we got back into the car, my phone was ringing. It was Derek. ‘So, like, Mark said there was some emergency with the twins and I needed to look after the little dudes or something,’ he said, stifling a yawn.
‘Have you just woken up?’
‘Yeah, it was a late one last night. So, what’s the story?’
‘I’ve got to be at Party in the Park in an hour. I need you to keep an eye on the boys. I’ll be working until about eight, so you’ll have to put them to bed and give them dinner and a bath and all that.’
‘Yeah, cool, whatever. Just leave me some instructions.’
‘Derek,’ I snapped, ‘I haven’t got time to write instructions. Just feed them, play with them, bathe them and put them to bed. It’s not rocket science.’
‘OK, chill, I’ll sort it.’
‘I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes and drop you all back to the house. I’ve made lunch, so all you need to do is dinner.’
‘Cool, whatever.’
I hung up with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Derek wasn’t the most responsible twenty-six-and-a-half-year-old. Would he be able to cope with the boys? They were pretty full on. Still, he was an intelligent young man… ‘Boys, your uncle Derek is going to look after you today. It’s his first time in charge, so you need to tell him what to do. OK?’
‘I’m hungry,’ whimpered Jack.
‘Me too,’ said Bobby.
‘I’ve made your favourite cheesy bread for lunch.’
‘I don’t want cheesy bread. I want ice-cream,’ said the emotional Jack.
‘I want Mummy to put me to bed,’ said Bobby.
‘I want Mummy to give me my bath,’ sobbed Jack.
‘I want Mummy to come home,’ said Bobby, crying now.
I turned around. ‘Come on, guys, I know it’s hard, but Mummy’ll be back tomorrow and then she can give you your baths. She’ll be better then.’
‘All better from the bad sickness?’ asked Jack.
‘Will she not have to have the nasty medicine any more that makes her hair fall out?’ said Bobby, perking up at the thought that his mother was going to be back to normal.
Damn, I shouldn’t have said ‘better’: now theyhad their hopes up.
‘Well, what I meant was that tomorrow she’ll be better from the cold. But she still has to have the strong medicine to fight the bad sickness.’
‘When will she be all better?’ asked Jack.
‘Soon, sweetheart. Very soon.’
‘Next week?’ asked Bobby.
‘Not exactly next week, but a few weeks after that,’ I said. She had about three months of treatment to go, but to a five-year-old three months was a lifetime, so I opted for a more short-term answer.
Jack kicked the seat. ‘I want Mummy to be better now.’
‘So do I,’ I said, ‘but we have to be patient. I promise you it will be worth the wait. You’ll see, she’ll be back to her old self soon. It’ll be great. But for now we have to be very kind to Mummy and give her lots of hugs and kisses and not be grouchy. OK?’
The two little heads nodded. They’d walk on fire if it meant their mother’s cancer would go away.
When I picked up Derek, Gonzo was lurking in the background. Both were equally hung-over. They climbed into the back of the car and we set off for Fiona’s house.
‘You smell yucky,’ Jack said to Gonzo.
‘Oh, yeah? Well, you smell of piss,’ said Gonzo.
‘Shut up,’ I hissed. ‘He’s only a kid.’
‘He peed in his pants,’ giggled Bobby, as Jack punched him.
‘That’s cool,’ said Gonzo. ‘Sometimes you just gotta go.’
/>
‘Kate said “fuck” to Daddy in the airport,’ Bobby snitched.
‘Did she really?’ said Derek, grinning at me. ‘I don’t blame her.’
‘It was bold of me and I’m sorry, so we won’t mention it again,’ I said, trying to do some damage control. I didn’t want them telling Fiona about myfish wife behaviour in the airport.
‘And what did your dad say?’ asked Derek, stirring it up.
‘Derek…’ I warned.
‘He said, “Jesus”,’ said Jack.
‘That’s enough, boys. Let’s forget about the airport,’ I said firmly, as I parked the car.
I showed Derek and Gonzo where everything was, laid out fresh towels and pyjamas on the bed, then hugged the twins and told them I’d be back in time to kiss them goodnight.
God knows what kind of babysitters the two rappers would turn in to. I had a pit in my stomach as I drove away leaving the twins in their care.
26
Two hours later, I was standing backstage in a football stadium as Party in the Park was about to begin. I had my new wig on, makeup professionally applied, clothes provided by a stylist, and I felt good about myself for the first time in ages. In fact, I felt wonderful. I looked like me again. The adrenaline rush of doing a live show was indescribable. My heart was thumping in mychest and mypalms were sweaty – I felt completely exhilarated.
The director counted down and we were live on air. Everything becomes a blur when you’re doing live TV. Nothing else going on in your life matters. You’re completely in the moment. Time stands still. The world outside the show was irrelevant to me. I had only one thought – what I was going to say next. It was incredibly liberating.
I interviewed the opening act before they went on, as the crowd went wild in anticipation. They were a group of four teenage boys from Kerry, who had just had a UK number one with their second single and they were as hyped and excited as I was. We fed off each other, and a few minutes later, when they ran on to the stage, I knew I’d done a good job. We’d opened the day with a bang. Enthusiasm is infectious and makes for great TV. I was on fire.
The next five hours were a whirlwind of interviews, commentaries, filling in the gaps while bands set up, and going into the crowd to talk to the excited fans. I also bantered to and fro with my co-host, Barry, an ambitious young guy who was a rising star on Irish TV. He was good-looking, confident and smart. He’d go a long way.
In My Sister's Shoes Page 17
