‘My hair! Mum, quick, help me,’ I said, running up the stairs, followed by Mum, Nuala and Siobhan, who was still moaning, ‘Dad said much nicer things about Niamh than he did about me, and I married a white Irish Catholic.’
‘Oh, belt up. It’s not your day,’ snapped Nuala.
Dad and I arrived to the church ten minutes late. It was jammed with every relation and friend that had ever had a cup of tea in our famous kitchen. I looked at my family, my community, my safety-net, my support group. It had been a difficult and emotional journey to get here, but as I gazed at the women and men who had been there for me all my life, I felt blessed.
These were the people who had celebrated my good times and cried with me through the bad. I could see Nuala beaming at me from under her new hat, Tadhg taking pictures of everyone for our wedding album, Finn giving me the thumbs-up, Mum fixing her hair, emotional and proud, and my cousin Mairead plucking away tunelessly on the harp.
On the other side of the church, opposite my mother, Fleur and Jean were impeccably stylish. Fleur looked radiant as she and Jean roared laughing at something Nuala was saying to them, while Tadhg took their photo.
This was my family: my loud, boisterous, talkative, loving, caring, supportive, enthusiastic, loyal, generous and kind family. I was going to miss them terribly.
I turned to Dad. ‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For coming to England and giving me the best life you could. For giving me all the opportunities I’d never have had if you’d stayed in Ballyduff. For all the personal sacrifices you made in moving to London. I want you to know that I had a great childhood and I’m really proud of everything you’ve achieved. I love both my Irish and my English cultures and I’m ready now to embrace a whole new one.’
He pretended to cough into his handkerchief, wiping his eyes as he did. Then, looking straight ahead, he took my hand and squeezed it. ‘May your children bring you as much joy as you have to me.’
I squeezed back.
We watched as my luminous pink bridesmaid made her way up the aisle followed by her five lilac children. Dad turned to me. ‘Ready, pet?’
I looked up at him and nodded.
Holding hands, we stepped forward into my future.
Acknowledgements
A book is never a one-man show, so I’d like to thank all those people who helped make it possible with their help and support.
Warmest thanks go to:
My lovely editor Patricia Deevy, who was instrumental in making this book better and for coming up with such a clever title!
Michael McLoughlin, Cliona Lewis, Brian Walker and all the team at Penguin Ireland for making the publishing process so enjoyable.
To all in the Penguin UK office, especially Helen Fraser, Tom Weldon, Naomi Fidler, Catherine Duncan and the fantastic sales, marketing and creative teams. To Hazel Orme, as always, for her incredible copy-editing.
To my agent Gillon Aitken, Kate Shaw, Sally Riley, Ayesha Karim and all at the agency for their hard work.
Thanks to my friends for their unflinching loyalty and enthusiasm, I appreciate it so much. Good friends are invaluable.
To Rachel and Danido for helping with the title.
To my nephews, Mikey, James, Jack and Sam, and my nieces Cathy and Isabel – who shout at the window of bookshops when they see the books!
To my sister Sue, to whom the book is dedicated, for being such a wonderful sister and best friend.
To my brother Mike for being my chief cheer-leader.
To all my in-laws, Jim, Auds, Gary, Bertie, Shane, DL, Agie, Jackie and Bill for being so supportive and enthusiastic.
To Mum and Dad for always being there and most of all for their unconditional love.
My biggest thanks go to Troy, for absolutely everything. And to Hugo and Geordy the jewels in my crown.
Whose Life is it Anyway? Page 30
