I focused on my breathing while the waiter brought over our drinks and informed Mam that they had procured Irish butter for her. That softened her some.
It didn’t take the heat off me though.
“Those poor kiddies though, motherless.” She eyed me. “You’ve always been good with children.”
“Well you had enough for me to practice with. I’ve only known him a few days, you’re making it sound like I’m about to elope.” I really was going to batter my sister. Sand dunes would be a good place to hide her body. Or a pig farm.
My mam cast a look over at my dad. “We didn’t know each other that long, did we Joe?”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “We didn’t. Instant attraction.”
I covered my ears. “Please. Don’t.” They were unbearable when they did this.
“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. That summer! We were sneaking off everywhere.” She eyed me evilly.
I shook my head, praying for this to end. “I really don’t need details.”
Her laugh was full of humour, at my expense. “We did make nine of you. And we still remember what it was like to make babies. Your dad’s equipment’s still working just fine.”
“Please. Stop.”
She laughed again, reaching an arm across the table to pinch my cheek, making me feel five again. “One day, Marie, you’ll torture your children in exactly the same way and you’ll take just as much pleasure. Remember this conversation then. And until you tell me more about Grant, I’ll carry on with stories about what your dad and I did last night, very loudly.” She sipped her Bucks Fizz, even sticking her little finger up in the air which was totally put on.
“You’re going to be a daughter short the next time I see Bernadette.” It was not an empty threat.
Mam shook her head. “She told me to take the attention off herself because she’s seeing that eejit Duncan Holland again. Feel free to have at her about that.”
I groaned. Duncan had been breaking Bernie’s heart since they were eleven years old and playing in a stream together. He found it impossible to be faithful and cheated all over town, which she knew about. And forgave him.
I gave in to telling them something about Grant. The filter prevented me from waxing lyrical about what he could do with his dick, as my dad would not appreciate that. My mother would be only too interested. “I really like Grant and I think he likes me, but he’s wading through a mess at the moment and I don’t know if it’s the right time. And I’ve only known him - ”
“A few days.” My father’s tone was kind. “My advice, kid? Follow what your gut tells you. It’s rarely wrong. Grant Callaghan’s a good man and a good lawyer. He’s been dealt arough hand but that doesn’t mean now’s not the right time. When would be?”
I expected my mam to chime in with something likeand you’re not getting any younger, but instead she was quiet, watching me.
“You’ll do what you do, like always,” she finally said. “But I still think you’re too thin.”
CHAPTER 8
MARIE
I’d started inviting people round to the apartment instead of the house, and inviting myself to the houses of my friends and children, because the house wasn’t home anymore and I needed to create new patterns of behaviour for when I was in London and get used to not being in the place that had been my main home for a good portion of time.
That portion of time wasn’t now anymore. We’d been at the house less and less over the last few years, which was part of the longer thinking process behind the decision to sell it.
Now it was half empty, the furniture that was being relocated elsewhere had either gone, or was covered and ready to be moved. The rest would be left for the new owners for them to do as they wished with it. I had moments when I felt sentimental and questioned my sanity, and when I unpicked those moments and thought how it would be without the upkeep of the house, I realised I wouldn’t miss it. We were creating new memories all the time in new places and I would live for those rather than ones that’d already been and gone.
I was sitting in the tea lounge of one of the big hotels with Claire and Payton, waiting – as usual – for Ava. Once a monthor so, we met up for afternoon tea, something we’d done since they were little girls, starting with Claire when I’d first moved to London and I left Grant with his boys for an afternoon so I could take Claire shopping for some new clothes and to have her hair properly done in a salon, as close to a mother and daughter day as you could be without naming it that.
We’d made a habit of it, always making a point to ask the boys if they wanted to join us (they didn’t), and then enjoyed the time by ourselves. After I had Payton and Ava, our party grew, sometimes with my sisters or nieces or the occasional friend, but my favourite was when it was just the four of us.
“One day she’ll be on time.” Payton sipped her champagne. “Hell will have frozen over and cats will rule the world by that point, but one day it’ll happen. Maybe.”
Claire laughed, briefly checking her phone. “The worst thing – Eliza is just like her. She can’t be on time for anything. She’s just messaged me to say she’s missed the bus to get back from her friends and wants a lift.”
I smiled, partly because I did like a good dose of karma. Eliza might be like Ava for never being on time, but in all other respects, she was just like Claire. Headstrong and outspoken, never afraid of an argument or standing her ground. Not easy to parent if you wanted a compliant child.
“How’s she getting home then?” I asked, knowing Eliza would be absolutely fine. “Is it the friend who’s one bus stop away?”
