‘Maxie? It’s—’
‘I know.’
She could envisage Maxine in her Toronto house, with the lakeside view, surrounded by her children and her pets, with Ownie, her husband, a fine man and a good provider. Cassie could imagine she still felt justified in her opinion, still right.
‘I thought I should give you a call .?.?.’ she began.
Silence.
‘On account of Mam’s wedding.’ She’d started out with a surge of energy, which was rapidly ebbing away. ‘Look, Mam asked me to call you because .?.?. we need to sort things out.’
There, she’d said it. She could do no more. Another long silence ensued.
‘Right. I suppose this is all about the bridesmaids’ dresses for this absurd wedding?’
Trust Maxine to deflect everything.
‘That’s part of it, yes.’
‘We’re far too old to be bridesmaids. It should be the girls, obviously.’
Cassie was struggling hard to keep her temper. ‘Well, Mam suggested it and it’s her day, so .?.?.’
‘What do you want, Cassie?’
She felt stung by the abrupt tone and for a second was afraid she was going to cry. ‘We do have to decide on these dresses somehow.’
‘That’s no problem, I can choose something online and send it on to Mam for her approval. Nobody’s going to be looking at us anyway.’
Cassie felt utterly dismissed by her tone, but something in her just had to fight back.
‘Speak for yourself.’
There was an icy pause.
‘Is that everything? I’ve to pick Eoin up from hockey so I can’t hang around. Tell Mam I’ll send some options on to her, she can show them to you, OK? Bye.’
And that was it. Annoyance and frustration surged through Cassie.
‘Bitch!’ How could a well-intentioned, open-hearted attempt to reach out to Maxine be met with such a cold, dismissive response. Bugger Mam for putting her in this position.
She paced distractedly up and down the floor, and then picked up her bag and swept out of the apartment.
On the way downstairs she phoned Finn, who would probably still be relaxing in front of the TV with his feet on Thor, waiting to hear from her.
‘It’s me. Can you meet me in half an hour on Sandymount Strand?’
‘Sure, babe. I’ll be there.’
* * *
Cassie was already pacing up and down the path when he pulled into the car park, the shallow sea a smooth sheet of silver.
‘Hey, this was a great idea. By the way, you were right, I’ve arranged to pick Samantha up tomorrow for a trip to Ikea,’ he called cheerfully, until he saw her face. ‘What’s up?’
‘Can we just walk? I’m too upset to talk.’
They set out across the beach, where little curled worm shapes dotted the ridged sand as far as the eye could see. Cassie stomped along with her eyes fixed on her feet.
