‘Where did you disappear to? I’ve been washing dishes on my own for ages. Grab that tea-towel and help.’
‘OK, Bossy Boots,’ he said, coming over to dry the dishes. We worked in silence for a while.
‘Niamh?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Did you know the police questioned them?’
I said nothing, determined not to get dragged into a conversation about it. I was trying to erase it from my mind and Finn wasn’t helping.
‘Well? Did you?’ he repeated.
‘Yes, but it’s all over now, so just forget it.’
‘Do you think they’ll question us? Ask us if we know anything?’
‘No, Finn, they won’t. It was just a procedure. They don’t suspect anyone and the case is closed. Now forget about it.’
He wiped a dish absentmindedly. ‘It’s kind of exciting, though, isn’t it?’ he whispered.
‘No, it’s sad. Now change the subject.’
Finn, realizing that I wasn’t going to entertain his conversation about killer cousins, wandered off, leaving me to tidy up. I was enjoying the peace when Mum came in. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ she said. ‘I feel as if we’ve been mourning him for weeks. Leave those things. Your dad and I’ll finish them later. I want you to come inside and sit down.’
Oh, God, not another pep talk. I couldn’t take any more heart-to-hearts today. I was worn out. I just wanted to be left alone. Mum took me by the arm and guided me out of the kitchen into the good room, which looked normal again now the coffin was gone.
Dad was standing in the middle holding a big box tied with a pink ribbon. ‘Happy Christmas, pet,’ he said.
I pulled off the bow, opened the box and inside was a brand new tennis racket, the most gorgeous tennis dress I’d ever seen and Chris Evert runners to match.
‘Wow!’ I squealed.
‘We’ve got you proper membership to the tennis club, so you can play any time you like. You never know, you might meet that nice boy who asked you to dance again,’ said Mum.
I hugged them both. ‘This is the best present ever,’ I gushed.
‘Now, there’s not to be too much tennis. I want you to keep studying and be the first O’Flaherty to go to university. But, as your mother told me, a girl needs to have fun and you’ve been a credit to us lately so we wanted to get you something you’d really enjoy.’
‘Thanks, Dad, it’s perfect. I’m so glad I got you and not Uncle Pat as a father,’ I said, kissing his cheek… and if he knew what I knew he’d be thanking his lucky stars he’d got me and not Sally as a daughter.
32
After the drama of Uncle Pat’s demise I didn’t mind getting back to a normal routine. It was a relief to go back to school and spend all day discussing boys, makeup and how incredible Rob Lowe looked in About Last Night. Sarah remained my VBF – very best friend – and had decided to stay away from drink after the last fiasco had cost her a boyfriend and almost a best friend.
Auntie Sheila sold the house and they moved into a new one, south of the river in a non-Irish part of London, away from the rest of the family. She said they needed a fresh start. She wanted Sally and Brian to go to new schools where no one knew that their father had been an alcoholic who fell down the stairs. She wanted the children to be ‘normal’, to fit in and not be pitied because their father had shown up at the school gates drunk.
Once they’d moved, we didn’t see them very often. Dad called in to see them once a month, but they pretty much kept themselves to themselves and got on with rebuilding their lives.
I knew that Dad was sending Auntie Sheila money every month because I’d overheard Mum talking to Auntie Nuala about it.
‘How much does he send?’ my aunt asked.
‘He covers the mortgage and school fees,’ said Mum.
‘What about the money she got from selling the house?’ Auntie Nuala asked.
‘Sure she needs that to live on.’
‘He’s a good man, your Mick,’ said Auntie Nuala.
‘Well, business is good and family is family. You couldn’t see them short.’
‘No, that’s true.’
‘Did you sort that thing out for Sally?’ Mum asked.
‘I did. She’s booked in to see Dr Montgomery next week.’
‘Is he Irish?’
‘Course he is. The best ones are. Sure we’re such a messed-up emotional lot only our own psychiatrists could understand us.’
Mum laughed. ‘You’re right there.’
Liam was going to college every day and studying hard, while Siobhan was stuck at home with Muireann. But instead of going back to her books and sitting her A levels, like Mum had told her to, she got pregnant again.
She announced it that spring and Dad thought it was great. She was married now, so as far as he was concerned the more children the better. But Mum was furious. She couldn’t even muster a half-smile. When Dad had left the room after congratulating Siobhan, Mum rounded on her. ‘How could you be so stupid?’ she raged. ‘How on earth are you going to raise two babies in the garage?’
‘We’ll manage,’ said Siobhan, clearly put out that Mum wasn’t happy for her.
‘Where’s your brain gone? You can barely cope with Muireann. Why, in God’s name, couldn’t you wait until Liam was finished his studies, you had your own house and a proper salary coming in?’
‘Dad said he’d help us out. It’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want my children to be too far apart. I want them to be close in age so that they get on well.’
‘Have you conveniently forgotten how difficult you found it after Muireann was born?’ Mum asked. ‘And, by the way, your father’s not made of money. You need to stand on your own two feet and be responsible for your children.’
‘Everyone says it’s easier the second time because you know what you’re doing and it’s not so scary,’ said the baby factory.
‘Easier!’ said Mum, laughing. ‘How can it be easier when you have a toddler demanding your attention and you’re trying to feed a baby? It’s twice the work, twice the lack of sleep and twice the worry.’
For a woman with three children, she was being very negative. If this was her reaction to two kids, Finn’s arrival must have pushed her over the edge.
‘How did you manage with three?’ I asked.
‘I just got on with it. We didn’t have choices in those days. There were no crèches you could drop your child into if you wanted to work. But you do have choices. I told you, Siobhan, that I wanted you to finish your A levels this year. You’ve no qualifications now, and if you ever want to work you’ll find it very difficult to get hired.’
‘I do work. I’m a full-time mother,’ said Siobhan. ‘I choose not to work outside the home.’
‘You’re only a child,’ Mum said, shaking her head. ‘You’re too young to be tied down with nappies.’
‘Why can’t you be happy for me?’
‘Because I don’t like to see you throwing your youth away. You should be out enjoying yourself in college, not tied to the kitchen sink.’
‘Look, Mum,’ Siobhan said, beginning to cry. ‘I know I let you down by getting pregnant and I know you really wanted me to go to university and have the life you didn’t have. But I’m trying to make the most of marriage and motherhood and it would be really nice if you could be a bit more supportive and less critical. I know you’re ashamed of me, but I’m doing the best I can.’
I actually felt sorry for her. You could see she was really hurt by Mum’s disapproval.
Mum went over and hugged her. ‘Don’t you ever say that again. I’m as proud of you as I’ve always been. I never meant to make you feel bad. I’m just disappointed that you didn’t get more time to be young and carefree. I think you’re a fantastic mother to Muireann and I know you’ll be wonderful with this baby too. I’ll help you as much as I can, and so will Niamh.’
Typical! I knew I’d get dragged into it somehow. I did enough babysitting as it was. Now I’d have to do twice as much. I had
to get out of this house and away to college.
Only a year to go…
Irish Daily News
‘Packing’
Niamh O’Flaherty
When a woman packs to go on holidays she takes out everything she owns and puts it on the floor in the bedroom. She finds things she forgot she had. A pair of jeans she used to love. Do they still fit?She tries them on. They’re very tight, but with a lot of effort she can get the zip up. She’s thrilled. She finds some old T-shirts and puts those on too. Hours pass as she tries on all her clothes.
Finally, she needs to decide what she absolutely must pack. She has promised her boyfriend she will only bring a small suitcase. After much soul-searching, she packs three pairs of togs and three bikinis. She packs matching wraps, flip-flops and hats for the togs and bikinis. Then she packs seven sundresses, one for each day – they’re bound to get dirty with sun cream and she doesn’t want to spend her holiday doing laundry – plus a big beach bag, a small casual bag and a dressy going-out bag, one big sun hat, one medium size, and two sun-visors.
Then she packs two pairs of shorts, four T-shirts and three pairs of jeans – travelling jeans, skinny jeans for going out at night and her most flattering suck-my-tummy-in jeans. She packs three glitzy tops to go with her skinny jeans, three shirts to go with her travelling jeans and two of her favourite T-shirts to go with her flattering jeans. She packs wedge sandals to go with the flattering jeans, two pairs of trainers to go with the travelling jeans and two pairs of high heels to go with the skinny jeans.
She packs three glamorous dresses, in case they end up meeting lots of new people and going out every night – as opposed to last year when they were in a coma every night by eleven. She packs high heels to match each dress and a colour co-ordinated wrap.
She packs her makeup, moisturizer, three sunscreens (factors twenty, twelve and six), special sun-care hair products – shampoo, conditioner, pre-swimming, and post-swimming and anti-frizz serums. She packs her hair-straightener, curler, dryer, plus three adaptor plugs. She packs cotton wool, cleanser, toner, eye-makeup-remover, anti-fatigue masks, moisture-boost masks, anti-ageing masks, hand cream, nail varnish, nail-varnish remover, eyelash-curler, scissors, deodorant (roll-on and spray). Two jumpers in case the weather is cold, a raincoat in case it rains, six books, and two DVD box-sets in case they don’t meet anyone and end up staying in and chilling out.
Her boyfriend packs a couple of pairs of boxer shorts and a bumper pack of condoms.
33
London, March 1999
As I watched my strong, confident, mature, healed cousin Sally striding towards her car, I began to think that maybe she was right. Maybe Dad wouldn’t react that badly to Pierre being black. Maybe I was underestimating him.
I closed the door and went back in to find Nuala and Mum.
‘Isn’t Sally great?’ Nuala said.
I nodded. ‘She’s so together. That psychiatrist you sent her to must have been really good.’
‘Sheila has to take a lot of credit too. She really turned her life round after Pat died. She never looked back. I should have pushed Tadhg down the stairs years ago and run off with some millionaire.’ She giggled as Mum shook her head.
‘Sally’s a credit to her mother,’ said Mum.
‘Just like Niamh here,’ said my favourite aunt, winking at me. ‘So, tell me all your news. How’s the newspaper world?’ she asked.
‘Good thanks. Still working away on my column.’
‘Any romance?’
‘She’s in love,’ said Mum. ‘She’s very secretive about him. None of us have met him yet.’
‘Oooh, come on, fill me in,’ said Nuala.
‘Well, he’s tall, dark and handsome,’ I said.
‘Who is?’ asked Finn, coming in.
‘Niamh’s boyfriend,’ said Nuala, as Finn froze.
‘Finn met him when he was over,’ I said, hoping my brother would jump in with some high praise of Pierre.
‘You never said a word,’ said Mum, tutting at Finn. ‘What’s he like?’
‘Well, he’s tall, he’s definitely dark and he’s quite handsome,’ said Finn, smirking. ‘Sorry to interrupt this little chat but I need a lift to training. Mum?’
‘I’ll drop you down now on my way to the hospital.’
‘I’ll stay here with Niamh and hear more about the boyfriend,’ said Nuala, as they left. ‘I want all the details,’ she said, smiling.
I took a deep breath. ‘Nuala, when you met Tadhg, did you love him so much it hurt?’
‘Not a bit of it. He was grand-looking, honest, hard-working and a bit of craic, so I knew he’d make a good husband. On our wedding night, I remember thinking I really didn’t know him at all. It was different then. You went out on dates and then you married – none of this sex-before-marriage or living together. Sure we were practically strangers. It was only after a few years together that I really fell in love with him.’
‘I think I’d die without Pierre,’ I said passionately.
‘That’ll pass.’
‘No, it won’t, he’s my world.’
‘Give him a year or two and he’ll be driving you mad.’
‘I love everything about him.’
‘Ninety per cent of it will drive you round the bend in no time, but as long as you still have ten per cent you like, you’ll be grand.’
‘Are you determined to ruin my buzz?’
Nuala grinned. ‘I’m only being honest, pet. But I’m delighted you’re mad about him. It’s lovely. Pierre, did you say his name was?’
‘Yes, he’s French, but he spent most of his life in England.’
‘Oh dear, your parents will be disappointed. They were sure you’d find an Irish lad in Dublin.’
‘He’s a little bit older too.’
‘How much?’
‘Fourteen years. He’s forty-two.’
‘They’re definitely not going to like that,’ said Nuala.
‘And there’s one other thing.’ I paused. ‘His parents are from the Caribbean.’
Nuala looked at me blankly.
‘He’s black.’
Nuala blessed herself. She wasn’t religious so this was a really bad sign. ‘Sweet Jesus, if he was a one-legged dwarf from Mongolia it couldn’t be worse. They’re going to hit the roof.’
So much for Sally’s theory about our enlightened family…
‘I know and that’s why I need all the help I can get.’
‘Are you sure he’s the right man for you? Maybe you should take some time to reconsider.’
‘I’ve never felt this way before. I never thought it was possible to be so in love,’ I said.
‘He’s very old. Fourteen years is a big difference. He’s only five years younger than me.’
‘I like that he’s older. All the guys I’ve gone out with before were my own age and it never worked out. Pierre’s taught me so much. I look up to him, I respect him, I adore him,’ I gushed.
‘If he’s so wonderful how come he’s still single?’
‘He was with a girl for nine years but they broke up last spring. They were living in different countries for the last three years and it fizzled out. And then he met me and knew I was the one.’
‘Are you pregnant? Because if you are I can help you. No one needs to know.’
‘No! I’m not pregnant but I am engaged and I’m going to marry him.’
‘Was he engaged to his ex too?’
‘No.’ I bristled. ‘I’m the only person he’s ever proposed to.’
‘I presume he’s not Catholic.’
‘No, Pierre doesn’t believe in religion. He says it’s difficult to credit any one religion as being true when there have been so many throughout history. None appears to have any greater claim to being more credible than any other,’ I said, sounding like a brainwashed disciple of the god Pierre. I was doing a really bad job of selling him.
‘That’ll go down well with your dad,’ said Nuala, rolling her eye
s. ‘What does this Pierre do then?’ she asked.
I could tell she hated the sound of him. ‘He’s a professor of phonetics and he’s really wonderful and good fun too.’
‘I’m going to be honest with you here, Niamh. He sounds like a dirty old man and a pompous git.’
‘No, he’s not. He’s clever but he’s also kind and caring and generous and he really loves me. He makes me feel ten feet tall. I never thought I could feel so good about myself. Until I met Pierre I thought I was ordinary, but he makes me feel really special. I know you’d like him if you met him.’
‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’
‘Please, Nuala, I’m begging you, give him a chance. Meet him before you write him off.’
Nuala looked at my flushed face. ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to meet him and then, if I like him and if I think he’s worthy of you, I’ll help smooth the way. But if I don’t like him and I don’t think he’s any good for you I’ll do everything in my power to stop the marriage.’
I hugged her. ‘Thanks, Nuala. This means a lot to me.’
‘I hope you really love him, Niamh, because it’s going to be an uphill battle.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m not sure you do, pet. I’m not sure you really understand how difficult this is going to be for your parents to swallow. I’m the most liberal of your relations and I’m shocked. Anyway, lookit, set up a meeting and we’ll take it from there. You’re like a second daughter to me and I won’t have you making the wrong decisions. So, be prepared for honesty.’
I smiled. ‘I know you’re going to love him, so I’m not worried at all.’
‘Ah, the confidence of youth,’ said Nuala, shaking her head.
34
A few days later Dad was being discharged and I went in to collect him, while Mum was busy preparing a high-cholesterol welcome-home lunch. Dad was dressed and sitting on the bed, talking to four nurses.
‘Ah, here she is,’ he said, smiling when he saw me. ‘This is my daughter Niamh, the one I was telling you about. The first O’Flaherty to go to university. We’re very proud of her.’
Whose Life is it Anyway? Page 21
