Chapter 2
N o. Mammy wouldn’t become a McCarthy or an O’Mara-McCarthy, but the steak Aisling had ordered was cooked to medium perfection. Unfortunately, the morsel she’d been savouring had just turned to sawdust in her mouth, and she set her knife and fork down. Mammy’s announcement was the last thing she would have ever expected.
She was abandoning them. Her sisters were in equal shock, although Aisling had her wits about her enough to wish Moira would close her gob. She was giving her sister a grand view of her masticated pasta. Meanwhile, Roisin was blinking manically like she always did when taken by surprise.
It wasn’t fair, Aisling thought. She had been thoroughly enjoying this unexpected treat and the ambience of Beaufield Mews in spring. Their party was seated outside in the glorious sunshine amongst the cottage garden flowers with the odd lazy bee sauntering past. Mercifully, depending on whether you were a Daniel fan, the only frolicking going on in the garden was that of the children.
It was great altogether when older children, like those belonging to Donal’s daughter Louise, took charge of the little ones. They’d barely seen Noah and Kiera apart from when they’d sat down long enough to shovel in the hot chips, ignoring the salad Rosi insisted upon. Anna, Donal’s younger and childless daughter, was enamoured with the twins and doing a grand job keeping them entertained. As for the rest of the adults, they’d been happily ignoring the elephant in the garden of why they’d been brought together in the first place, waiting for Mammy and Donal to bring it up. The mood at the table had been convivial yet mellowed by the middle-of-the-day wine with superb food they’d been enjoying. Then Mammy spoiled it all by tapping her glass with a knife to get their attention before standing up and dropping her bombshell.
Mammy and Donal were going away for three months, THREE MONTHS, on a cruise ship that did a regular Los Angeles to Cabo San-something seven nights return sailing with a stop at somewhere Mexican sounding, beginning with M, and Puerto Vallarta along the way. However, they weren’t going as mere long-time passengers with a Mexican Riviera obsession. Oh no: they were to be the entertainment. Equally as shocking, they were leaving in one week to spend a couple of days in Los Angeles with Patrick, Cindy and the babby Brianna before boarding the boat.
‘But how?’ Louise, who was nowhere near as shell-shocked given she had Anna to rely upon for babysitting services, asked. Meanwhile Anna, whose life would continue as usual, was unperturbed. ‘Sounds like fun. Good for you!’ she said before making silly faces at a giggling Aoife and Connor. As for the O’Mara girl's menfolk, they’d picked up on their partners’ unhappiness at the bombshell Maureen had dropped and were all whistling and looking up at the sky.
‘Well, to cut a long story short,’ Maureen began, and all three of her daughters simultaneously groaned and rolled their eyes. This statement was an anomaly because this woman could turn going to the corner shop to fetch milk into a soap opera.
‘Make yourselves comfortable, lads, Anna and Louise,’ Roisin muttered, receiving a glare from Mammy.
‘That’s the sort of remark I’d expect from Moira, not you, Rosi. We’ll put it down to your hormones being all over the show, shall we?’
Roisin said nothing, settling back in her seat with her hands resting on the beachball curve of her belly. Shay patted her shoulder. Then, they all listened to the convoluted tale involving The Gamblers, a Kenny Rogers tribute band. Donal was the frontman of the band of four while Maureen was the tambourinist and guest singer. It had transpired that John, the drummer, knew a fella, and this fella knew another fella who was friendly with an Irish fella in a country music band that did the cruise ship rounds; they’d had to break a contract performing on the Mayan Princess due to a fed-up wife, a broken foot, and RSI of the wrist, respectively. This Irish fella instantly thought of The Gamblers and, aware they were all enjoying their golden retirement years, wondered if the band could fill the gap at the last minute.
It would seem they could and would because Maureen finished her story with, ‘The lads were eager for sunshine, sea and adventure and there are no Gamblers without Donal. And, you know yourselves, it's always been on my bucket list to perform on a cruise ship, so it was a yes from all of us.’ Maureen paused to sip her wine.
Was it? Aisling glanced at her sisters and knew they were thinking what she was thinking. One of these days, they would ask for written evidence of this never-ending bucket list of Mammy’s.
Donal, beaming, added, ‘Our accommodation on the ship is included in the contract. We get discounted meals, although the alcohol’s not included in that. In return, we’re expected to mix and mingle with guests and perform a regular evening set, and we’ve to host the Haybale Hoedown Evening which involves a line dancing competition on the second to last night of the cruise. We’ve been rehearsing your classic line dancing hits around the clock.’
This fell on deaf ears where the O’Mara girls were concerned. They were stuck on the news Mammy and Donal would be away for three months.
‘But Mammy, I don’t understand why you have to go. Aside from it being on your bucket list. I mean, it’s only the two songs you sing, after all.’ Moira flicked her silky black hair back over her shoulder.
‘She has a point, Mammy. Nobody will miss the Dolly and Sheena songs,’ Roisin said.
Aisling looked at both her sisters and decided there was nothing further she could add other than, ‘And what about your grandchildren who love their Nana and Poppa D? They won’t even know you after three months.’ This wasn’t true of Noah and Kiera but was for the twins.
‘And I’ll be fit to burst. What if I go into early labour?’ Roisin piped up again.
‘Aside from three months being far too long for Donal and myself to spend apart, neither of us is prepared to let the rest of the band down and I’ll have you know “We’ve Got Tonight” and “Islands in the Stream” bring the house down every time we belt them out, don’t they, Donal?’
‘They do, Mo.’
‘And you’re forgetting I also play the tambourine, Moira.’
‘I hadn’t actually, Mammy,’ Aisling – forever the brown-noser – butted in, ruining her favourite daughter status by adding, ‘But it’s hardly a vital instrument.’
‘It helps keep the rhythm, thanks very much.’ Maureen’s eyes narrowed in her middle daughter’s direction. ‘And your Stevie Nicks wan would tell you to wash your mouth out, Aisling O’Mara.’
‘O’Mara-Moran, Mammy.’
Aisling felt a foot nudge her and, glancing around the table, saw Moira mouthing, ‘Ladies’ loo, now.’ She must have already told Roisin because she was getting up from the table and saying the baby was sitting on her bladder.
‘And mine’s been destroyed since the twins,’ Aisling muttered, hot on her sister’s heels.
Moira hurried after them, shouting back to the adults watching them scarper bemusedly the first thing that came to mind. ‘IBS!’
Maureen called after them, ‘But I didn’t tell you the best bit.’
None of them stopped.