“That's amazing,” Jenna says, and her face beams in one of her eye-dazzling smiles that emphasise the heart-shape of her face.
“Who actually won in the end?” Mum asks, and she too is smiling.
I sigh then, almost certain the tears will come but I really don't care if they do because I’m still grinning widely. “Nobody. Or, rather, we both did. We decided my boot and his Scottie dog would get together and have a polyamorous relationship with our other partners. So, we pooled all our money together, turned all our properties into a socialist commune where nobody had to pay rent, essentially shunning capitalism and disrupting the whole point of Monopoly.”
“Oh, Jesus, you two were something else,” Dad says shaking his head while quietly laughing.
“So ridiculous.” Maeve gives another loud snort, then picks up her phone again.
Jenna reaches over and wipes away the only tear that was too heavy for me to keep hold of. She does so with the kindest, warmest look in her eyes, like she actually loves it when I talk about Arnie. Is that even possible?
“You okay?” she mouths, and I nod back at her. When I look back at the table, Mum is studying us again and I see it’s with a new expression, her head slightly turned to the side, her eyebrows pulled together and her lips twitching like they can’t decide if they should smile or frown.
Our starters arriving pulls my attention away from my mother’s odd look and helps the conversation naturally switch to the food we all enjoy, which then prompts me to share more than a few war stories from my uncle's kitchen. Seeing as my dad and uncle Dermot are little more than a year apart – giving almost far too much accuracy to the term Irish twins - he too has some stories about his childhood, all of which I've heard countless times but there's something aboutJenna hearing them for the first time that makes them funnier tonight. At one point after our mains’ plates are cleared, while Dad and Jenna are deep in conversation about a London restaurant Dad went to on a business trip recently, Maeve gets up and whispers something in Mum's ear, and a second later they're excusing themselves. The relief that lightens my shoulders in Mum's absence is noticeable and unwanted, replacing one discomfort with another.
“Everything okay over here?” Jake says as he appears at my shoulder a moment later. His hair is flopping all over his face. His suit jacket is off, and he has his sleeves rolled up and two buttons undone on his shirt. The colour of his skin is akin to mine after a ten-kilometre run.
“Everything's grand,” my father says.
“Dad, this is Jake, Jenna's brother, the Resort Manager.” They shake hands. “Is everything okay with you?” I then ask Jake.
Jake straightens up and addresses my father first. “Mr O'Martin, I ask that you kindly avert your ears for what I'm about to say next, or failing that, I pray you have the same sense of humour as your son.” He turns back to me. “No, Marty O'Martin, I am not okay. The kitchen looks like it's been bombed. My staff is currently rotating crying breaks in the pantry every thirty minutes. And my smartwatch keeps buzzing me because my heart rate hasn't dipped below 120 beats per minute in the last two hours. But truly, as long as you are all enjoying your food and drink, then everything is absolutely dandy.”
“Will you just let me come and help?” I say, moving my napkin off my lap and pushing up to stand, but Jake has his hand on my shoulder forcing me back down.
“Nope, not going to happen. Your place is here, ensuring my sister doesn’t deepen that mid-brow frown. It undoes all those expensive facial treatments I buy her for her birthdays.” Jake darts up as straight as an arrow. “Okay, must go. It's my turn for a crying break.”
Dad is like me, chuckling and shaking his head. “Your brother is a hoot,” he says to Jenna.
“Absolutely. He got all the good genes,” Jenna says, and I feel a rush of joy when her hand curls around mine.
“You did alright,” I say looking at her. The colour of her hair has changed, the gold shining brightly, almost like embers. I don't have to turn my head to know where it comes from. The sun is starting to fall lower in the sky.
“I'd agree with that,” my father says. He looks past us, presumably to check my mother isn't close by. “Jenna, I know it's been a bit wild, meeting Cynthia and all, but for me it's been a real pleasure. It's clear to me you and Aiden here really do enjoy each other's company, and it's been very good for me to see my son smile like this again... and without a drink in his hand too. Miracles will never cease.”
“I smile, Da,” I say and lean back in my chair, bringing Jenna's hand with me.
“Not like this,” Dad says. “You haven't smiled like this since we lost Arnie.”
I am left speechless by him saying that. A ball of emotion shoots out of my stomach and fires up my throat, burning up any words I may have had.
Luckily, my mother and sister arrive back at the table filling the silence.
“I don't care if it happens all the time,” Mum says as she pulls her own chair out quicker than Dad can stand up. “It's not appropriate. In fact, if it happens all the time that just makes it worse.”
“Ma,” Maeve says throwing herself in her chair, arms folded. “It's what happens when you do the kind of work I do. I can't stop people sending me messages like that.”
“Maeve, that wasn't a message, that was pornography.”
“It was just a man asking me out on a date.”
“A Greek man! From Crete!” Mum shouts, then leans low on the table and adopts a voice that is part-hiss, part-whisper. “And he was saying indecent things about what he wanted to do with Maeve.”
"Sorry, what's going on?" I lean forward, suddenly concerned.
“Someone figured out where I was on my Live on the beach this afternoon.” Maeve groans, loudly. “They could see the villas in the background, and they left a comment with the name of the resort. I've gotten really good at not sharing my real-time location and I didn’t think anyone would figure it out, but hey, I fucked up, so now all of my Greek followers have been going crazy and a handful of men have messaged me asking to meet up.”
“That was not someone asking totakeyou out, Maeve, that was someone asking toeatyou out,” Mum snaps back.
