‘I’ve just run into him. In the newsagents. I almost died. He recognised me, despite the fact I have my TV face on. It took me ages to realise who it was. “Red Power,” I said. “I thought you were dead.”’
‘Well, he’s not,’ I said breezily. ‘And he’s working in my school.’ Just reminding myself of it made it seem strange. As though a unicorn had taken up residence in the garden. ‘Are you coming in or just standing there on the doorstep.’
‘I’m coming in,’ she said, following me into the kitchen. ‘You need to tell me everything. For a moment I thought that perhaps he was one of my farmer fans. Come to stalk me.’ She sat down at the table and looked at me. ‘Jesus Christ, Tab. How could you have not told me? How are you coping? Are you all right? Have you talked?’
‘He only came in today. Starting on Monday…’
‘God, that must be weird. Is it weird? I mean, on a scale of one to ten, how weird is it?’
‘Eleven.’
‘You should have told him about it years ago,’ she said. ‘You should have explained properly. I always said it. And then it wouldn’t be weird. It might be nice. Meeting an old boyfriend. Reminisce gently, laugh a little and then move on, slightly nostalgic for the old days but relieved that you didn’t end up together.’
‘Will you stop projecting? That happened to you, didn’t it? Which one was it?’
‘Kevin Higgins,’ she admitted. ‘Met him last week. He should never have carried on playing rugby. His nose has been broken so many times, it’s like he’s had a potato transplanted on his face.’
‘Clodes. Red and I are slightly different to you and Kev.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Nothing. He’s only with us until the end of term and then he goes. Wherever. It’s a stop gap. It’s all fine. Don’t panic. Anyway, it was all such a long time ago, wasn’t it…? And I have Rosie now to worry about. And Michael.’ Even though I hadn’t seen him all week.
‘Since when have you worried about Michael?’
‘Can we change the subject?’ I said. ‘What about Bridget… she’s a breath of fresh air.’
Clodagh rolled her eyes. ‘That’s the party line, anyway,’ she said, gloomily. ‘Breath of fresh fecking air. Ten years I’ve been presenting that programme. Ten years! There was a text surge, whatever that is. Twitter set itself on fire. I mean, we’ve had no streakers, no protestors, and no on-air nervous breakdown. Apart from my imminent one. Nothing. Until this. A mad woman doing the weather. She’s like Dana’s deranged lunatic aunt on some kind of sex drug.’
‘She’ll certainly get people talking,’ I said, getting up to fill the kettle. ‘Although I imagine that’s entirely the point.’
‘I mean, for feck’s sake,’ Clodagh went on, adrenaline taking longer than normal to dissipate. ‘Did you see how she was deliberately upstaging me? Those shoes. I am surprised that she was able to walk in them.’
‘You sound like her mother.’
‘Her mother! She was sitting beside the camera, the entire time. She’s her agent. Apparently, Bridget’s an Irish dancer, toured the world with Riverdance…’
‘I knew it!’
‘Knew what?’
‘She looks like a Riverdancer, that’s all.’
Chapter Six
Celia, my mother-in-law, was very much a hostess in the old-school style. She’d been giving dos and dinners since she and Michael Sr were newlyweds and he was an up-and-coming politician. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the pineapple and cheese on sticks or the mushroom vol-au-vents, but she had rung yesterday to make sure we were all still coming and checking that Rosie would be there and that Michael had arrived back from Brussels and he wouldn’t be dashing off for some vote or problem, like he always did.
‘I know politicians,’ she reminded me. ‘I know what they are like. Michael Sr was exactly the same. He was married to his constituents first and Michael Jr and I second. Oh, I know I go on about the old days,’ she said, ‘but I think you met a better class of person back then. People showed respect to Michael Sr. Tipping hats, calling him sir. Listening to what he had to say. I heard Michael Jr on the radio this morning and I was shocked to hear how disgracefully he was treated. The interviewer – if you can call him that – the interrupter, we shall say, well the interrupter just went on and on, not giving Michael a chance to talk about the Standards in Public Life directive. Which I must say, is a simply wonderful idea. If my Michael can’t bring a bit of order to Europe, which is going to the dogs, then I don’t know who can. You will be here for 2 p.m., won’t you? Now, don’t be late. I know timekeeping isn’t your strong point, Tabitha.’ She sighed as though it was only one in a long list of shortcomings. ‘But please make an exception for my sake, will you. People want to see Michael, you know.’ And she was gone.
My timekeeping wasn’t what I would call an issue, in fact it was me who was standing in the hall today at 1.40 p.m. waiting for Rosie and Michael and looking at the framed photograph of me, Rosaleen and Nora on the hall table. Taken on a long ago trip to West Cork when I was Rosie’s age and we’re standing in front of Rosaleen’s cherry tree in the garden of her family home outside Schull. The tree was her secret spot to get away from the world, she used to tell us, and there was a branch wide enough for her to crawl along and she’d look up into this cherry blossom world. Rosie and Rosaleen would have really liked each other, I thought, not for the first time. They would have got on so well. Rosaleen with her no-nonsense nurturing and Rosie with her lovely sense of humour. Well, her sense of humour that seemed to have disappeared.
‘Rosie,’ I called up the stairs, ‘are you ready?’ There was no answer. ‘Rosie!’ I called again. ‘Come on!’
Michael had been in town all morning working – wearing what he deemed his casual clothes, of which there was little discernible difference from his weekday clothes – it was just a suit without a tie.
‘Cufflinks!’ said Michael. ‘I need my cufflinks. You know the ones, my EU flags. People will want to see them.’ He stopped for a moment. ‘Everyone’s always so interested in what goes on in Brussels. It’s all anyone wants to talk about. Mammy’s made me promise to talk to everyone. I’d better stay off the champers just in case I get some policy wrong and it’s in all the papers!’ He looked delighted at the thought of being mobbed by Celia’s friends, all panting for the ins and outs of the European Parliament. ‘Now, I need those cufflinks. People will expect them.’
A knock on the front door. ‘Lucy!’ Michael said, swinging open the door. ‘Perfectly on time, as always. It’s… exactly… seventeen minutes to two. Just as you said… to the dot!’
‘I hope you don’t mind, Tabitha,’ she said, slightly embarrassed.
‘Not at all, Lucy,’ I said, ‘the more the merrier.’ I didn’t care if Noel and Liam Gallagher came along and had a proper fist-fight in the middle of the living room rug, as long as they made the afternoon slip by faster.
‘Mammy has been in such a twizzle about the party,’ said Michael, ‘that she has been on the phone to me and to Lucy about it for weeks. The least Lucy deserves is an invitation.’
‘Surely the least she deserves is a day off?’ I said.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing.
‘Well, I bought her something,’ said Lucy. ‘I hope she’ll like it.’ She dragged a large present from outside which was beautifully wrapped in flowery paper and adorned with a giant pink bow. ‘It’s a crystal carriage clock. But Mary said that crystal carriage clocks are straight out of the 1970s.’ She looked slightly crest-fallen.