by Anita Notaro
He licked her hand as if in agreement but stayed where he was, out of sight, out of harm’s way.
My drink arrived, and Maddy drained her glass and ordered another bottle of cider. ‘I got the Dart as far as Monkstown and walked up,’ she told me. ‘So I’m having a couple, but I changed my mind about the gin, it’s too early.’
‘How did it go?’
‘Not bad.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve already got a callback for tomorrow to meet the heavy hitters. Today was just an associate producer, a researcher and one of the storyline writers.’
‘Great. What’s it for?’
‘A new TV medical drama.’ She beamed. ‘You could be looking at the next Meredith Grey or – what’s her name? – the gorgeous blonde one?’
‘Issy Stephens? I can never remember their real names. Katherine something, I think. Is it really that big a part?’ I was delighted for her.
‘Well, it could be, but hey, it’s prime-time TV, so that means thousands want it.’ She shrugged. ‘They’re casting six main characters and three or four regulars. And they let me read the entire thing, which might just mean they’re interested.’
‘And what about your current contract?’
‘Expires at the end of the year, and unlikely to be renewed, except on a week-to-week basis, if that bitch Charleston continues wielding her axe.’ Maddy’s worst fears had been realized when ‘Porky Pauline’ – as we all now referred to her after seeing her photo – had indeed been confirmed as the new series producer. ‘Jesus, Christmas is nearly here.’ Maddy made a face.
‘I’m ignoring it,’ I told her.
‘Any plans?’
‘No. You?’ I asked.
‘No, there’ll be the usual forty-seven for dinner at Mum’s house, but I don’t think I can be arsed. Remember the drama last year when everyone seemed to have fallen out with at least one other member of the family? It was a nightmare. Add to that the fact that my brother-in-law drinks a bit too much whiskey – as you know; my sister constantly tells me I need to lose weight – as you also know; and you can see why I just might prefer to feed the homeless this year.’
‘It’s all coming back to me all right.’ I laughed, remembering. ‘Well, remember mine last year? I think I moaned at you till Easter. I barely had three days off and even then I spent Christmas morning talking down a client who was suicidal. When you work in that business, it’s hard to get carried away by it all.’ I shook my head remembering. ‘It’s hell for a lot of people. It just magnifies all their feelings of what’s not right in their lives, especially when they’re watching what seems like the whole world on a party blitz.’
‘Well, how about this year I come to you and we spend it in a caravan?’ She suddenly seemed delighted by the notion.
‘And walk Pete along the seafront on Christmas morning?’ It sounded like heaven to me. ‘And eat candyfloss and ride the bumpers on the way back?’
‘Will they be open, d’ya think?’ She was like a child.
‘Are you joking? That big yellow one right at the front – they opened the day of the owner’s funeral. His sons said it was what he wanted, but the locals suspected it was more what they wanted because it was a holiday weekend and the town was jammed.’
‘Well, I’m on. Will I text Clodagh for a laugh?’ Maddy grabbed her phone. ‘She’ll be horrified. Imagine not having her Kir Royale with caviar nibbles in front of the log fire with Lord and Lady Boyden-Jones, or whatever they’re called.’ She sent off a quick message and we got into the chat.
‘I’ve news,’ said Maddy. ‘But first I want all the gossip about being blind in Bray with Mike. Sounds like a movie title, don’t you think? Sleepless in Seattle just seems so pedestrian now, compared with ‘Blind in Bray’ and I’d say sex when you can’t see might be very erotic.’ Her laugh was a dirty cackle.
I filled her in, insisting it was just business.
‘Business, my arse,’ she decided, almost before I’d finished. ‘He meets you late at night for a walk and a drink. Way too cosy. If he was only interested in you professionally, he’d have made an appointment like everybody else. Did you charge him?’
‘I did not. He wanted to see Pete as well, if you must know.’
‘A likely story. Sure you’ve already told me Pete is in your office every day. So come on, tell Aunty Maddy. Do you fancy him?’
‘No, I do not,’ I insisted.
‘Even a teensy-weensy bit?’
‘I dunno, I don’t know what to make of him really, to be honest.’
‘Ah ha, I knew it.’ She pounced.
‘Don’t go jumping to conclusions,’ I begged her. ‘It’s just that I’ve never met anyone quite like him before. He seems so comfortable in his own skin. What I mean is, he’s straight yet he lives with a gay guy – most men would run a mile. He loves animals, and he’s not afraid to be silly around them. He’s head of a major international company yet he dresses like the post boy, and he’s so laidback he’s almost horizontal.’
‘And you threw up on him and he still talks to you,’ Maddy added.
‘Give over, even for you you’ve milked that one to death.’ I poked her. ‘He’s always telling me I’m mad, by the way, which he thinks is an insult. I keep trying not to smile with delight.’
‘You have changed, Lou, that’s for sure. You’re pretty horizontal yourself these days. I like it.’
‘So do I. The greyness has disappeared from my life.’ We spent a few minutes discussing my clients and how looking at their lives was making me realize I needed to confront my own issues with my mother. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before, although she said that maybe now the time was right for me.
‘Any mention of dinner, another drink, a Sunday stroll with the dog, even?’ she asked then, referring to Mike.
‘No, and it won’t happen. We’re too – I dunno what the word is really – pally, I suppose. He sends me funny texts, but I don’t see him wanting to snog me. Sure didn’t he resist me that famous night, despite all my efforts to get my leg over?’ I was finally able to laugh at myself, maybe because now that I knew him better, I realized it was just another thing he’d taken in his stride. ‘Actually, I envy him in a way. He has life sussed.’
‘No more than yourself.’ She signalled for another bottle, but I shook my head.
‘Ah, but I’m not nearly as successful as he is, that’s the big difference. It’s easy to change your life from where I’m standing. But he manages to work in the corporate sector, play the games, earn big bucks and not give a shit, really.’
‘Cool or what?’ Maddy was impressed.
‘So what’s your news?’
‘Well, it’s not major or anything, but a bit of progress has been made on the Ronan O’Meara front.’
‘Tell me.’ I was intrigued.
‘Nothing much, as I said. But his sister Ellen rang me the other day and suggested lunch. We went out to that nice little fish place, Cavistons in Glasthule. And who strolled in at the end of it but Ronan.’ I could tell she was pleased.
‘And?’
‘And he said he’d been shopping next door, which, in fairness, he had. Claimed he spotted us in the window. Anyway, he joined us for coffee and he was very nice. Insisted on paying our bill too, which made him extra nice. Do you think he’s good-looking?’ I knew she was keen.
I thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I do. At first I thought he was a bit anal, I suppose.’ I remembered the first night he’d appeared at my class, wearing a pinstripe suit and that ridiculous tie. ‘But once he loosens up he’s nice.’ It was an honest opinion.
‘He seems a bit lost, I always think. Do you know any more about him?’ she asked.
I felt uncomfortable, but given his outburst in the pub that night, I really couldn’t risk even giving her a hint. Besides, I never discussed my clients anyway, it was just that I couldn’t help feeling Maddy was exactly what he needed in his life right now, and knowing she liked him made it harder.
‘It’s OK – sorry,
I shouldn’t have asked,’ she said quickly, which was unusually intuitive for her. Normally she’d pester you for info.
‘I know he really has had a tough time these past few years. And I think you’d make a great couple, so I’ll help in any way I can,’ I told her. ‘Maybe I should invite all my new clients for Christmas drinks in the office, and you and Clodagh could be my staff for the night?’
‘Less of the work, more of the party talk, please.’ She thought it was a great idea. ‘Aren’t we lucky though? Clodagh with her new job, you with your new everything and me with a bit of romance and a possible starring role on TV. It’s going to be a good New Year, I can feel it.’
23
AFTER AN INITIAL BOUT OF PANIC, I DECIDED TO GO FOR THE PARTY, so I sent out invitations to all my clients – the animals. There were a few rules to be adhered to upon acceptance. These included:
Pets must wear a Christmas collar
Owners must bring a doggie Chris Kindle (max. €20)
Everyone to bring a favourite Christmas song on CD (non-returnable)
Be prepared for mistletoe traps in unusual places
Spin the Bottle in operation – participation a must – no human tongues!
Most of the rules came from Maddy, who set about organizing the thing with the enthusiasm of Jamie Oliver in a school kitchen. This was because she was full of nervous energy. Despite three auditions, she still hadn’t heard back from the producers of the new medical drama, and one of the researchers had told her off the record that she was being considered for one of the leads.
‘Oh God, Lou, this could be it,’ she told me and Clodagh over and over again. ‘What will I do if I don’t get it?’
Her not getting it didn’t bear thinking about, and I pulled out all my novenas to St Anthony and prayed like mad. I even enlisted the help of my mother, who apparently had a relic of him, which was more of a surprise to me than anyone else.
The day before the party was a nightmare. We set up a huge marquee downstairs in the courtyard for the pets. Maddy used all her TV contacts in the props department, and the result was fake grass, loads of plastic trees, kennels with no backs – nothing on TV has a back – and masses of toys. We even managed to cordon off a few areas in case of troublemakers, and Maddy persuaded four of the regular extras on her show to be dog handlers for the evening and another four to be waiters – by assuring them that there would be loads of ‘media moguls’ (she meant Mike) talent-spotting at the event. Clodagh got T-shirts printed with IF YOUR DOG THINKS YOU’RE FABULOUS, DON’T SEEK A SECOND OPINION printed on the front and COCKING OF LEGS ALLOWED, ANYTHING ELSE TO DO WITH COCKS BY PERMISSION ONLY! on the back. I nearly had to resuscitate Mary when she saw them.
‘Is it not . . . like . . . totally unprofessional?’ she whispered to me.
‘Probably, but how many professional people do you know who would have a Christmas bash for dogs?’ I wondered.
‘I suppose,’ she mumbled, but eventually she got caught up in the whole thing and almost rendered us speechless on the day, when she disappeared into the ladies’ and emerged wearing a red velvet dress with silver snowflakes glittering all over it – very short – with white fur trim on the hem and sleeves. White patent, over-the-knee boots and a Santa hat completed the picture. Rumour had it (according to Maddy) that she had red crotchless knickers on underneath.
Pete, courtesy of Maddy, was wearing a red scarf with white pompoms and looked delighted to be part of it all. He kept going up to everyone as if to say ‘Look at me, aren’t I gorgeous?’ To which the only reply was a rub or a treat and, from where I was standing, he was getting loads of both. It was those eyes again.
Upstairs, I was surprised to discover that my very large office was in fact only half a room and could be doubled in size thanks to a clever partition which I hadn’t even known existed. Thankfully, the other half was vacant, so within two hours we had transformed the place with trees, garlands, holly, berries and masses of mistletoe, all of which were fake but fabulously lush. Maddy went around spraying everything with something suspiciously labelled ‘Christmas in a Bottle’, which sounded dire but actually worked a treat and filled the room with the scent of cinnamon and cloves.
We had lots of party food, provided at cost by our next-door neighbours, a catering company who I’d never even noticed. Mary worked her magic on them and offered to give out their business cards to our ‘dozens of celebrity clients’ in return for their services.
We’d invited people from my first, disastrous class, others who’d made enquiries on our website or dropped in for a leaflet and of course all our regulars. And when I looked around shortly after the appointed time, it seemed as if everyone had come. It was complete chaos, as excited dogs said hello by sniffing bottoms, and Petra the parrot – a new client whose owner (a sweet old lady) had contacted me because he kept saying ‘Fuck you, asshole’ to everyone he met – sat on all the men’s shoulders and kept kissing them. The only real problem was Rover the cat, who Emily insisted on leaving with the dogs and who very nearly ended up as dinner after meeting Selina – a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, and not tolerating any cats today, apparently. Unfortunately, Selina’s owner, a young guy covered in tattoos and piercings, was tucking into the beer and checking out the talent and not really interested, Maddy reckoned, until she marched him downstairs with his pet and managed to secure them both in one of the cordoned-off areas with a beer and a babe for company. Rover, though, had to be consigned to his travelling crate after that, because one or two of the dogs, including Bartholomew, were eyeing him up – for savaging, Clodagh reckoned, as she made the suggestion discreetly to Emily.
Maddy’s mum, Connie, had come and I was thrilled. I always felt she’d been more of a mother to me than Martha, so I hugged her and dragged her into a corner for a catch-up.
The only slight problem I had was finding enough time to mingle, as all of my regulars seemed to want to update me on their lives, which wasn’t part of my plan for the evening.
Denis declared himself ‘pleased as Punch’ that Father Vincent had said he’d be visiting Joan Lehane before Christmas, and promised to convey the message that Dinny would very much like to make contact. He was further delighted that apparently Bart had been so traumatized by Pete’s arrival that he’d been ‘good as gold’ since he’d ‘seen him off the premises’.
I headed off, still smiling, to talk to Ronan O’Meara and Myrtle.
‘Top marks, Lulu, this is wonderful.’ Myrtle hugged me.
‘Yes, it’s a fun idea,’ Ronan added, then Maddy joined us and Myrtle winked at me and pointed to the two of them behind his back.
‘Presents coming up,’ she announced, and I saw her give Ronan a warm grin just as Mary announced she was about to begin pulling names from a hat. Each person called had to pick a present and kiss the person who’d bought it. I introduced Myrtle to Denis Cassidy, who looked a bit lost, then added Julia to the mix in order to free up Emily and, when I left, the three oldies were chatting happily.
‘Lulu,’ Ronan said quietly, staring at his gran. ‘I was just wondering if we might have a chat about—’
‘I’ve made a New Year’s resolution,’ Emily cut in, not having heard him.
‘Not a bit early?’ I smiled, and looked at Ronan apologetically.
‘I’ve found an address for my real mother and I’ve decided to just turn up at her door and introduce myself,’ she told us both. I decided I needed a drink before I tackled this one.
As it transpired, I didn’t have to deal with it straightaway because, right at that moment, Louis came up behind me, pinched my bum and said, ‘Guess who?’, which sounded odd until I turned around and discovered it was actually Santa who’d groped me.
‘Santa, you really are a dirty old man.’ I laughed delightedly as he grabbed me in a bear-hug. It was a brilliant costume, complete with padded tummy, full wig and beard. ‘But do I know you?’
‘You do now.’ He grinned as Mike and Pedro joined him.
‘Jesus, it’s like a zoo down there, I need a drink,’ Mike announced. ‘There’s teeth and testosterone in equal measure, I reckon. And the smell of farting is something else. Great idea, Lulu. It’s been a while since I’ve been humped by a bitch in a pink tutu on arrival at a party.’
‘Shall I take him downstairs?’ A volunteer came to the rescue. ‘I’ve a very nice Pekinese called Tootsie who’d love to meet him.’
‘I’ve already tried, and I think Tootsie might just be missing an ear, if she’s the one in the red ballerina skirt?’
‘Ah, but I bet you haven’t brought him to visit the fresh-meat-treat press first though?’
‘He’s all yours.’ Mike handed Pedro over so fast Louis didn’t have a chance to object. ‘Drink?’ he asked Louis and me, just as Mary came and persuaded Santa to join her in distributing the goodies.
‘I’ll come with you, and don’t dare abandon me,’ I told Mike. ‘I’ve been trying to get to the bar for at least an hour, but some client or other keeps nabbing me along the way.’
‘There must be a lot of bad dogs out there so?’ he enquired.
‘Are you mad? The dogs are all having a great time, it’s the owners who need counselling.’ I laughed. ‘It must be my face, what do you think? Do I look like a soft touch?’
‘No, you have a “Don’t mess with me” look on you most days. Still enjoying your bohemian lifestyle?’ he wanted to know.
‘You bet, and that’s only because, when it comes down to it, I don’t have to get involved at all if I don’t want to, so I just say what I think most of the time, not what I think they want to hear. Does that make sense?’
He handed me a glass of white wine without asking. ‘About as much as the theory of relativity.’ He made a face. ‘Thankfully, I’ve had a lot of practice with complicated people, living with a gay Santa, and if you throw into the mix a mutt who thinks he’s royalty, you won’t be surprised to hear that most of it rolls off me.’
