‘I’ll make a label for it!’ I said, feeling a tremor of excitement run down my spine. A holiday. We were going to go on a holiday. I knew exactly where I wanted to go.
Mam and Dad smiled at me indulgently, while I spent hours designing and colouring a rectangular piece of paper I cut out. Then with the help of some glue stick, our Dream Holiday Fund became official.
‘Let’s see if I can help speed things up and get you two on an aeroplane sooner rather than later,’ Dad said. ‘Look at this, straight from the central bank!’ He took out his wallet and waved a ten-euro note out.
‘I can’t get used to this euro malarkey,’ Mam complained. ‘I keep saying pound!’
But she clapped and cheered with the rest of us when he placed it into the slot.
I’ll never forget that moment. It’s locked in my head and my heart forever.
‘The first instalment,’ Dad said solemnly and then he placed the jar in the centre of the kitchen dresser on the top shelf. We all stood for ages, just looking at it, like it was the Holy Grail. I don’t know about the others, but I was dreaming about the places we’d visit. My head was full of ideas, all of which included white sands and blue water. I wanted to swing in a hammock so badly it almost hurt.
‘Where will we go, Mam?’ I asked, clasping my mother’s hand.
‘Paradise, love, that’s where.’
SKYE
From that day on, we all diligently threw any spare cash we had into our jar. If Eli or I saw any change on the ground we’d rush to pick it up. I started to babysit for the Whelan family, who were good payers. When a lot of my friends just got a fiver an hour, they always paid eight euro. I babysat for them at least one night a week, and as Mam often sniffed, they were never in. I cheered their hectic social life, long might it continue. As a rule, I donated one-third of my wages to the fund, except when it was someone’s birthday and I had to buy them presents. Eli started to work in the local hardware store at weekends and on school holidays. Like me, he donated a third of his wages to the fund too. Every now and then this went a bit pear-shaped, because he’d blow all his cash on materials for some new DIY project he had on the go.
Saturday had always been takeaway night in the Madden house. Dad thought that Mam deserved one night off each week from cooking for us lot. I loved those nights. We’d all collapse onto the couches in the sitting room, with the long glass coffee table laid, waiting for Dad to come home with our supper. In front of Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, we’d gorge ourselves silly. Yep, Saturday nights were my favourite of all days in the week. But then one morning, Mam said, ‘You know, I was thinking, I can make homemade chips myself. If I did that, we could stick an extra twenty euro in the jar each week.’
‘I’ve always said that your chips are twice as nice as the chipper ones anyway,’ Dad declared. ‘And I’ll even peel the spuds for you. Can’t say fairer than that.’
‘My hero,’ Mam said, laughing, then pointed to the dishwasher, ‘while you’re at it, you might empty that too.’
‘Give an inch and take a mile,’ but he still jumped to his feet to do as asked, as he always did.
So, with all of us working hard, every few months the jar reached cramming point. Eli and I would sit down around our kitchen table and count out the money saved into neat piles. Dad would scribble down the total amount in a little red notebook. Then with Eli and me doing a drum roll, he’d add up the grand total accumulated so far. The excitement rose as hundreds became a thousand and then, when we reached two thousand pounds, our dream became a tangible reality. We were going to do this.
‘I’m so proud of this family. Together we are fecking unbeatable!’ Dad said, delighted with us all.
Dad lodged the money in his savings account so we’d not be tempted to spend any of it. Now and then, after dinner, we would lose hours around that kitchen table talking about where we’d go and what we’d do when we got there. Paradise was different for each of us and it was likely to change a lot. We were a fickle bunch, us Maddens. I don’t think Eli and I really gave any credence to Mam and Dad’s choices, though. We were selfish, as children often are, and I suppose we got so caught up in the excitement; it became all about us and what we wanted. And Mam and Dad, of course, let us have our own way.
America was top of our wish list; we’d always wanted to visit Disneyland and Universal Studios. And even though we never actually took a vote, soon all we talked about was visiting the Sunshine State. I borrowed a book from the library all about Florida and a friend of Dad’s, who worked in the travel agency on O’Connell Street, gave us dozens of brochures, which soon became worn and dogeared because we would all thumb through them so often.
Then, on my fourteenth birthday, two years after we started the fund, I got the best present ever. It took me completely by surprise. Aren’t they the best gifts, the ones when you truly have no clue that something wonderful is about to happen?
I had received some money from Aunty Paula and my godfather Jim too, who usually forgot, so that in itself was worthy of note. Mam often remarked that it was ‘a pure waste of a godparent that fella. We don’t see him from one end of the year to the next and God help Skye if she’s reliant on him one day.’ All was forgiven as far as I was concerned, because when I bumped into him last week and casually threw in that I had a birthday coming up, he gave me forty euro. Forty! Anyhow, me being magnanimous, I had twenty euro of that to put in the jar. I glanced over at Eli, who had his headphones on and was mouthing along to Eminem’s ‘Stan’. State of him. I kicked him under the table to get his attention. If I was going to part with all this money, I at least wanted an appreciative audience.
‘So Mam, Dad, Eli,’ I said loudly, ‘I’m going to put €20.00 into our fund.’ I paused to admire their shocked faces. ‘That’s right, I said, €20.00.’ I took a second to acknowledge the compliments from Mam and Dad, smiling with delight as they told me how good I was.
Eli, the fecker, just ignored me and started mumbling lyrics from ‘Stan’ again.
‘My girlfriend’s pregnant, too, I’m ’bout to be a father, If I have a daughter, guess what I’ma call her? I’ma name her Bonnie’
And with that all hell broke loose. Mam went a funny shade of red and clasped Dad’s arm, ‘Did he just say he’s gotten a girl pregnant?’
‘He did,’ Dad replied. His eyes were locked on Eli’s, who was blind to the comedy gold unfolding in front of me.
‘That Faye Larkin, she’s been sniffing around …’ Mam said.
‘Fine-looking girl, in fairness,’ Dad replied and yelped when Mam hit him.
‘He wouldn’t go near her!’ I said, horrified at the thought.
‘You hope and pray this doesn’t come to your door,’ Mam continued and I had to hide a snigger. She’d be knitting baby booties in a second.
I’d normally have let something as delicious as this play out its natural course, but I wanted all eyes on me right now. It was my birthday after all!
‘Would you all cop on! He’s singing a song!’ I said to them and Mam blessed herself and threw some thanks up to Saint Anthony.
I sighed loudly and rattled the jar for good measure until I got their attention again. My hand began to shake. I mean, a girl could do a lot of damage in Penny’s with twenty euro.
‘Anyhow, before Stan the Man over there interrupted me, I was about to donate HALF of my birthday money.’
‘We’re very proud of you. Your generosity