‘Michael! How are you?’ Imelda pressedher big, powdery face, close to his, kissing him hard on the cheek. ‘Oh now, look what I’ve done.’ She wiped her lipstick off his face with her thumb. ‘There,’ she pronounced. ‘Good as new. Now, who do I hand him back to?’ She looked enquiringly at me and then at Lucy. ‘The wife or the secretary? Who is the power behind the throne? Well, that’s what it was like with my Frank. His secretary, longdead now – good riddance – was a battle axe. Wouldn’t allow him to do any actual work, waved him off to the golf course every day so she could just get on with things. I was petrified to ring the office for anything because she was always so busy. Frank was simply terrified of her. Just said, yes Enid. No Enid. Is it time for lunch yet? He got all the credit, though.’ She then mouthed the next sentence,making no sound at all. ‘And the salary.’
And just in time, there was Celia, elbow-barging Imelda out of the way, in a puff of Chanel No 5 and a haze of lilac, arms outstretched. She and Michael embraced in their curiously unaffectionate way, never quite making enough bodily contact for the hug to mean anything.
‘And Rosie, darling…’ And now it was my turn to be elbowed out of the way as shegrabbed her granddaughter and briefly embraced her. ‘How are you getting on, hmmm? Working hard? Hmmm? No hard work, no Trinity!’
Rosie opened her mouth to speak but Celia ploughed on.
‘Tabitha…’ She embraced me, stiffly, entirely without warmth. It was like trying to hug a lamppost. ‘You are looking… your usual self. Gardening again?’
‘No…’ For a moment, I wondered what she meant. ‘No, wellI was last week… oh…’ And then I realised that I was wearing my tweed jacket, which I had thought quite stylish.
‘And Lucy,’ she said, smoothly turning her attention to Lucy. ‘You look marvellous. Such a pretty colour on you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lucy, looking a little apologetically at me as the recipient of such obvious favouritism.
‘Now… I can see you have your hands full… Imelda, maybe youcan help everyone with their packages?’ That was our signal to hand them over.
‘Happy birthday, Celia.’ I passed her the handmade and very expensive leather gloves I had bought from Michael, Rosie and me.
‘Well, let’s see what this is…’ She pulled off the ribbon, opened the slim box and peeled open the tissue. ‘Gloves?’
‘Italian leather,’ I said. ‘Feel them.’ I’d tried them on in the shop andthey felt beautiful to wear. But it looked like I’d failed again.
‘Gloves are what my mother always gave the staff for Christmas,’ she said, nose wrinkling as she handed the box to Imelda.
Michael bristled beside me. ‘But grandmother didn’t have staff,’ he said. ‘She had a cleaning lady if that is what you are referring to?’
It was now all down to Lucy and her Waterford crystal. ‘I have a littlesomething,’ said Lucy, passing the box to Celia. ‘Happy birthday.’
‘Oh you darling girl,’ she said to Lucy. ‘You shouldn’t have.’
She really shouldn’t have, I thought. But we waited, breath-bated, to see if this was the present which would make Celia happy. She handed the torn paper to Imelda and lifted up the box. ‘Waterford Crystal?’ she said curiously. ‘A carriage clock?’ We all waited tohear the result. It was like waiting for Simon Cowell to give his verdict. She pulled it out of the box, examining it with the eye of an expert on the Antiques Roadshow. ‘What’s this?’ she said. ‘A flaw. A scratch, here at the bottom.’ We all tried to see what she was pointing at. ‘Oh my poor dear, they’ve sold you a flawed piece of crystal. You’ll have to take it back.’ She passed it to Lucy whowas green around the gills. Another failure. Michael gave Lucy a sympathetic look.
‘Now, come along. Quickly. My other guests were told to be here for 1.45pm… I always give an early off when I’m giving a little gathering. Little tip for you there Lucy when hosting. Now give me your arm, and you Rosie. And Michael, you must talk toeveryone. They’re all been simply desperate to talk to you aboutEurope. So many questions! I said I can’t possibly answer them all, but Michael will be only too pleased. There’s a few policy points that need clarifying, there’s the free-range pigs bill. And also, we need to hear all about SIPL… it’s such a wonderful initiative. And you mentioned milk on the radio the other morning. The interviewer onMorning Irelandwas positively cruel not to let you speak.I wrote to the director general. He knows who I am and I told him exactly what I thought about that excuse for a journalist. There are just no standards left anywhere. In public orprivatelife.’
