Personally I’d rather be filling my body with pain au chocolat, but I don’t say a word – too concerned about what Niamh’s response will be.
‘Come on, girls,’ she says after a pause. ‘We might as well get this over and done with. I’m sure it won’t be too bad.’ I’d like to believe she means it, but there is a dullness to her voice that gives away her true feelings.
We sit down and Laura goes to very helpfully fetch our slop, leaving Niamh and me alone.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask her, knowing that it is a stupid question. The woman is very clearly not okay.
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I’m just being a crabbit witch. It was a long week at school.’
‘You want to talk about it?’ I say, but she shakes her head immediately.
‘Absolutely not. I’m here to get away from it all. Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. About last night. I handed my phone in while you and Laura were on the beach.’
I had wondered why I’d not seen her scrolling, but never thought for a moment she had caved and handed it over. Still, I grab on to her apology in the hope we can make the most of the rest of the weekend. Sludge and all.
‘I really appreciate you coming this weekend,’ I tell her. ‘I didn’t know they would take our phones. Or that this would be our breakfast.’ I spot Laura walking towards us with three tall glasses of something absolutely putrid-looking.
‘It’s a bit lumpy,’ she says, as she sits down. ‘I’d not use the straw if I were you. Mine is already clogged up.’
‘Pretty sure the doctor can give you a tablet for that,’ Niamh deadpans, and I snort, before staring at my drink suspiciously.
‘I think we need to bring the big guns out,’ Niamh says. ‘Picture the scene. Derry, 1997. Henry J’s cocktail bar. Your fifth piña colada of the night. It tastes like death but by God, you paid a fiver for it and you’re going to get a fiver’s worth out of it. Pinch your nose and down that bad boy.’
‘Muskehounds style.’
Truth be told, I’m more scared of drinking this than I was of walking into the sea, and that’s saying something. We glance at each other before Laura starts counting back from five and before I think about it too much more, I’m trying very much not to think about the texture and taste of this super-healthy vom-in-a-glass.
The silence that follows is deafening. We are, each of us, stunned by the sheer disgustingness of what we’ve just consumed. If the others are anything like me, they will also be trying very, very hard not to bring the contents of their stomach back up.
Eventually, Laura speaks. ‘I don’t think I have ever tasted anything as disgusting in my entire life. And Kitty told me I ate a slug when I was two. I’d put money on it still being nicer than that.’
‘I’d take scrambled slug over that any day of the week,’ Niamh says, and I feel my stomach start to turn.
‘Please. Please. Let’s change the subject. Anything. Anything at all,’ I say, fighting to stop myself from being sick.
‘Okay,’ Laura says. ‘I’m proud of us for doing this. This is exactly the kind of thing our sixteen-year-old selves would have wanted us to do. Feeling the fear and doing it anyway, etc.’
She’s right, of course. ‘Exactly!’ I say.
‘Hmmm,’ Niamh says. ‘I think sixteen-year-old me knew absolutely nothing. She certainly never thought about all the responsibilities we’d have on our shoulders when we reached this age. I think I’m too busy keeping the life I have afloat to be off chasing the dreams of a teenager. I’ve my yoga and that’ll have to do me for now. Things have changed these past few weeks, Laura.’
She sounds so defeated that I’m not entirely sure what to say. Maybe she has a point. It was very easy to make all these promises to ourselves before the big baby bombshell hit. I feel my mood sink too – or maybe my body is just extremely sad that I made it consume the sludge. ‘She has a point,’ I say.
‘My God, you two, you’re going to be grannies. You’re not dying. Your life isn’t ending,’ Laura protests. ‘So we will have none of this defeatist nonsense. The situation doesn’t have to change anything.’
‘I beg to disagree.’ Niamh sits up and leans forward. ‘It changes everything. It’s a whole mindset. Being someone’s granny. Being married, in my case anyway, to someone’s grandad. It just feels different. Even outside of the responsibility of it all.’
Laura shakes her head. ‘But it doesn’t have to change everything. It didn’t for Kitty. She loved it. Every minute. She said she enjoyed Robyn being wee more than she did me and Conal. She was old enough to appreciate how fleeting those early years are, so she packed them with fun and love. But at the end of the day she was more than happy to hand my baby back to me and go on about her business. In those last years… before she got really sick, she packed in so much living. She even got a tattoo. And went on a few dates. Joined a salsa class. Bought far too many pairs of high heels, and enough handbags to sink a ship. She fell in love with herself.’
I can’t believe that I did not know this about Kitty. Of course, I’d known she was always so very full of life and joy. But this? This version of Kitty was next level. I would’ve loved to have known this super-improved version of the woman I had loved and admired most of my life anyway.
Laura leans forward a little. ‘Do you know what she called herself? Once, when she was half-cut on cocktails after we went out for a lunch that went on a little too long?’
My curiosity is piqued.
‘Tell me,’ Niamh says.
‘AGILF,’ Laura says in a stage whisper, her face colouring as she breaks into a wide smile.
