There are no flies on Elma. Before she retired she was a teacher. And it’s obvious in every part of her warm, clever face that she spots absolutely everything.
‘Yes, it is. Thank you, Elma,’ I say, kissing her on both cheeks, French style.
‘Really suits you,’ she says. ‘Come on in. I know you won’t drink because you are driving, but you can have some herbal tea. We are not quite wrapped up yet. I don’t know, this book just took ages to talk about.’
I follow her in and find the usual eight ladies sitting around Elma’sdining-room table, nibbling cheese, crackers and grapes, all with full glasses. They’re clearly long beyond the book stage of the conversation. Interspersed between them are the drivers, two husbands and one man who’s going around the table with what is unmistakably a green tea teapot. He looks up as I come in, and at that same moment I catch sight of my mother, who positively beams at me.
‘Bea,’ she says, ‘you’re here. You must meet Sean. We’re lucky he’s gracing our company tonight.’
I look up and there he is: the man from the trendy new restaurant in the city, the guy Christie knew where we’d had a lovely night out with Shazz. I’d seen him then as I was coming back from the ladies’ and he, busy running his restaurant, had barely noticed me and I’d felt horribly invisible.
Tonight, it’s different. Tonight, he looks at me admiringly.
The entire tableful beams at us en masse, and I’m struck by the impression that if Sean had dragged me upstairscaveman-style, they’d all wave to see us go and say, ‘Have fun, lots of love, we’ll come up in the morning.’
My mother played a part in this, I think darkly, watching her. Shazz’s ‘find a man for Bea’ campaign has clearly gone viral.
‘Sean moved back from Hong Kong to set up the restaurant and it’s doing brilliantly, and he’s home for good,’ says Elma firmly. Just in case Sean had any ideas about what he might want to do with his own life.
He grins. ‘Hello, Bea,’ he says, with a faint bow, ‘would you like some green tea and an apology for the matchmaking?’
I laugh and decide to give in gracefully to a cup of green tea. The eight ladies around the table have not got the combined ages of about five centuries for nothing. At speed, everyone moves and Sean and I are sitting right beside each other, two cups of green tea in front of us. Everyone else has most ostentatiously moved away to talk about other things.
‘Does this feel like aset-up to you?’ I say, looking down at my cup and not at Sean, who, close up, is definitely several years younger than me. He’s late thirties, while I’m like the conveyor belt at Dublin Airport: full of baggage and a bit creaky with a complicated history.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘This is a crazy night for us in the restaurant but she begged me to come tonight and meet some of her friends and as I’m so busy and feel guilty, I said yes...’ His voice trails off a little bit and I laugh.
‘Women who want to be grandmothers rule the world, you know, or at least they should,’ I say. ‘We were both walked into this.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ he says admiringly. ‘Mum has been telling me about you for the past week.’
‘Telling you what exactly?’ I say, anxiously. And then I stop myself. Elma is a lovely person and she only would have wanted the best for me, like Mum. She won’t have said anything negative.
‘You OK?’ says Sean. I’ve spaced out on him.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, ‘let’s start this again. I just felt a bit thrown because I had an uncomfortable situation with an old boyfriend recently, and I didn’t realise I was being set up tonight.’
‘You do know that the Chinese characters for crisis also say danger – and opportunity.’ He gives me another admiring look and I raise an eyebrow.
‘Really?’
‘I feel as if I’ve met you before,’ he adds. ‘Have we –? I honestly wouldn’t forget someone like you.’
‘Is that a line that usually works?’ I ask.
‘Not a line,’ he says, shaking his head ruefully. ‘I’ve been too busy to have lines. But for you –’ He breaks off and he’s doing that admiring thing again. ‘I might manage to think up a line or two.’
‘We have met before,’ I say. ‘In your restaurant.’
He looks genuinely sorry. ‘I’m really sorry – that’s unforgiveable in my trade. You’ll have to let me buy you dinner to make up for it.’
‘Now thatisa line –’ I begin.
‘No,’ he interrupts. ‘Just a thought. A very, very nice thought.’
In the car going home, Mum looks like the cat who’s got the cream.
‘You liked Sean,’ she says, even her tone blissful. ‘He is handsome. Charming and decent. Elma’s good stuff and so’s her husband.’
