Though Laura didn’t verbalise her thoughts, Gerry was perceptive enough to read her expression. ‘Sorry, love, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, minding Olivia is a delight for your mother.’
Gerry looked so troubled that Laura had no option but to try to shrug it off. Her uncle brimmed with good intentions, always wanting to help, to solve whatever the problem there was, and the mere thought that he may have caused friction between Laura and Cathy was enough to keep him awake at night. Laura had always felt especially fond of her Uncle Gerry, and knew that he felt the same way about her. Some of her earliest memories were of riding high on her uncle’s sturdy shoulders, squealing with laughter as he held her upside-down by the ankles, and how important and special she’d felt when he’d asked her to be a flower girl at his wedding. Gerry had married late and his boys were a good few years younger than her. He maintained that Laura had broken him in and thanks to her he’d had the requisite qualifications by the time his own children came along.
Laura’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud guffaw, and she didn’t need to turn her head to identify from whom it had originated. Yes, there was Uncle Paddy bumbling towards them, and it was too late for her to discreetly slip away. If Gerry was her favourite of her mother’s siblings, Paddy was her least favourite. Paddy saw himself as the joker of the family, the problem being that his jokes were more like insults and were always at someone’s expense. Gerry’s earnestness made him an easy target for Paddy, and when it came to Laura his cracks invariably adopted a Spanish flavour.
‘Ah, Laura, where’s the Spaniard tonight? Did ye have an argumento?’
The problem with Paddy was that there was often a grain of truth in his remarks, and for that reason they stung. She had argued with Esteban tonight. She had wanted to ask one of the mums from playschool to mind Olivia, but Esteban had been adamant that he didn’t want to leave his daughter with someone they hardly knew. She had accused him of using Olivia as an excuse to get out of going to the party, and he responded that he was doing nothing of the sort, but admitted that he was tired and didn’t mind staying at home. She followed by shouting that he couldn’t be more tired than she was. The argument had ended the same way all their arguments ended: her screaming like a fishwife, and Esteban saying nothing at all, his shutters down, making her want to scream all the harder.
‘You’re looking a bit more cuddly than the last time I saw you, Laura. Must be having a few too many tapas and paellas, eh?’
Paddy had absolutely no sensitivity to people’s feelings, and had a booming voice that everyone in the vicinity could hear. He always, always commented on Laura’s weight. It was true that she had put on some extra pounds. With the mood she was in, if he said another word she would not be responsible for what she would do.
Paddy had a brood of boys too, most of whom were here tonight. They stood as a group, talking earnestly amongst themselves. In fact, Paddy’s boys were more of Gerry’s temperament, and Gerry’s unruly lot were more like Paddy. Maybe in the same way that Laura was the complete opposite to her own mother. Had the genes got mixed up somewhere, or did children consciously try to be different from their parents?
Ah, there was Erin, coming out of the toilets, slightly unsteady on her feet. She looked amazing in her black cocktail dress, her skin glowing, her hair shining; it was though she was lit up from the inside. Laura had always envied Erin her beautiful olive skin and glossy hair, so different from her own paler skin tones and, in her opinion, nondescript hair.
As Laura watched, Erin almost lost her balance and had to hold on to someone’s arm to steady herself. Mmm … The guest of honour was decidedly tipsy. Laura gulped back the rest of her drink, deciding that if her cousin was going to get drunk, she would keep her company. It was the least she could do.
* * * * *
Erin, her fingers curled around the stem of a fresh flute of champagne, instinctively sought out her mother with her eyes, and seeing that she was alone, made in her direction. If Cathy looked ten years younger than her age, Erin’s mother – Moira – looked ten years older. She sat in one of the far corners of the room, detached from the party in much the same way she was detached from life.
‘Hi, Mum. Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes,’ Moira smiled. ‘Though I don’t think this place is as good as it used to be.’
An interesting observation, Erin thought, given that Moira had never set foot in O’Donoghue’s pub before tonight.
‘It’s a good crowd, isn’t it, Mum?’
‘Moira, Gerard, Patrick and baby Cathy,’ Moira recited in reply.
‘Yes, Mum, all your brothers and sisters are here tonight.’
‘Moira, Gerard, Patrick and baby Cathy,’ Moira repeated, before her gaze focused on the small dance floor. ‘Has Cathy gone out dancing yet? She loves to dance, you know!’
‘Yes, Mum, I know.’
Moira cupped a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, that Cathy! She’s so naughty,’ she giggled. ‘I don’t know what we’ll do with her.’
Erin smiled as though she was in full agreement.
‘We spoil her, all of us,’ Moira continued fondly. ‘She’s the youngest, the baby of the family, and we just dote on her. Oh, but she’s as bold as brass … I have to be the sensible one, being the eldest … Let me tell you, it’s very tiresome being sensible all the time.’
‘Yes, Mum, I’m sure it is.’
‘Moira, Gerard, Patrick and baby Cathy.’
Moira recited the names of her siblings a few hundred times a day. It was her mantra, her mainstay. After all, her brothers and sisters were the only thing that had remained constant in her life. Everything else had disintegrated beyond recognition.
Erin felt a sudden urge to cry. She was overwhelmed by the sheer unfairness, the hopelessness and the sadness of it all. Her mother was only sixty-seven. Until the onset of her illness she’d been an intelligent, well-read, well-travelled woman, a loving mother and a devoted wife. She should have had many more good years to look forward to. If her younger self had known that this was coming, a time when she couldn’t hold a conversation without reciting the same phrase over and over again, a time when she was living more in the past than the present, a time when a roster would determine whose turn it was to mind her, she would have been truly horrified.
Laura appeared by Erin’s side, as though by some sixth sense.
‘I’ll sit here with Moira for a minute.’
‘You don’t have to. I –’
‘Go away, Erin. Spend some time with your guests.’
Erin blinked her eyes to clear away the tears that had formed. ‘God, you’re not half bossy!’
‘I was bossy,’ Moira chirped in. ‘I was the eldest, you see.’
Laura shared a rueful grin with Erin. ‘Yes, Auntie Moira.’
Moira leant closer to Laura. ‘And who are you again, dear?’
‘I’m Laura, Cathy’s girl.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course you are.’
Moira was finding it harder and harder to keep track of who was who in the family, particularly the faces she didn’t see every day. She always knew Erin, though she sometimes got mixed up as to what age her daughter was, occasionally packing a lunch for her in the mornings and enquiring why she wasn’t wearing her school uniform.
‘Go, Erin. Go back to the party,’ Laura commanded.
‘Okay. I’m gone, I’m gone!’
Erin left her mother in Laura’s care – in effect, what she was about to do for the coming year – and made her way back to the thick of the crowd. The champagne had lost some of its glow, as had the party