Noah’s bottom lip jutted out and began trembling.
‘Daddy didn’t forget, Roisin, I rang the airline and checked and Mr Nibbles can travel as checked baggage so long as he has the proper cage, which he does. So, there’s no problem.’
‘There’s no problem, Mummy,’ Noah echoed.
‘Ah, but it would be very traumatic for him.’ Roisin did not want to take Mr Nibbles to Dublin. What if the little fecker had a heart attack mid-air? Noah would be beside himself and Christmas would be ruined. Besides, Mammy had a thing about small furry things ever since she’d had that encounter with a bold mouse who’d tickled her hair when she was sleeping. She’d thought their daddy was being friendly in the middle of the night and it was only when she realised he was snoring his head off that it couldn’t have been him playing with her hair, and if it wasn’t him then who was it? All hell had let loose, she’d charged around the apartment with the vacuum cleaner hose in the wee hours trying to get it and swearing she’d not sleep another wink ever again until she had proof he was gone. She and Aisling had thought it hilarious and tormented her something wicked by leaving a cat’s toy mouse out in the most unexpected of places. No, Mammy couldn’t be doing with a gerbil.
‘He only has a teeny-tiny heart, Noah, and going on a big plane would be very frightening.’
‘My friend, Marjorie, from the Knitters who Natter, travels with her Chihuahua, Petal, over to Ireland all the time, her daughter’s over there.’ Elsa joined in on the great Mr Nibbles debate waving her hand dismissively. ‘Petal loves air travel.’
‘Yes, but a chihuahua and a gerbil are two very different things,’ Roisin pointed out, not quite believing she was having this discussion.
‘Well,’ Colin said, and there was something about the way in which he looked like he was playing poker and was about to lay down a royal flush that put Roisin on high alert. ‘You can’t expect Noah to be parted from Mr Nibbles when he’s only just got him, Roisin, and if you’re really not happy about him flying then Noah and the gerbil could always stay here with me and Mummy for the week.’
Arse! He had her over a barrel.
‘Mummy?’ Noah looked uncertain, torn between wanting to be with Mr Nibbles and the thought of not being with his mummy and seeing his other nana, and Aunty Aisling and Aunty Moira.
‘Ah, well now, I’m sure he’ll be fine but, Noah, he’s your responsibility. That’s what having a pet is all about.’
Noah nodded and began telling Mr Nibbles all about the Irish side of the family he would meet tomorrow.
‘Right, that’s settled. A lot of unnecessary fuss about nothing, I say.’ Elsa sniffed. ‘Now, who’s for a game of charades?’
Chapter 5
Dublin’s Arrivals hall was a shifting mass of bodies. Several planes had landed and disgorged their passengers simultaneously and Roisin told Noah to stay by her side as she grabbed an empty trolley. She was sorely tempted to ram a few pushy, shovey types in the back of the legs with it as she navigated their way through their fellow travellers, most of whom didn’t seem to be filled with the Christmas spirit just yet. Air travel could do that to a person, Roisin mused, looking for their carousel. ‘That’s us over there, come on, Noah. Here hop on.’ Noah balanced on the trolley and she wheeled in close to the conveyer belt to wait for the bags and one very special gerbil to begin trundling around.
‘Mummy.’ Noah clambered off the trolley and tugged at her coat sleeve. ‘Will Nana be back to normal or will she still have clown hair and a big cast on her foot?’ He wanted to be prepared this time, Roisin realised as the carousel suddenly rumbled into life. Poor love had been disturbed by his Nana’s Bo Derek braids and casty foot the last time he’d seen her. To be fair she hadn’t looked much better once she’d had the braids unplaited either; she’d been left with a cloud of hair akin to Ronald McDonald’s. Noah had been very standoffish with his imposter Nana and she’d had to resort to base line bribery in the form of chocolate and sweets to win him around.
‘She’s all back to normal,’ Roisin reassured her son, leaning on the trolley, well as close to normal as Mammy was ever likely to get at any rate. The state of her hair and foot on their last visit was down to her having just arrived home from her mammy-daughter trip with Moira to Vietnam. The country was on Mammy’s bucket list due to her desire to sail on a junk. They’d all thought she was mad when she announced she was going there and poor Moira had found herself roped in for the journey. As it happened the pair of them had a great time apart from an ill-fated hike which had resulted in Mammy’s broken ankle, and as for the braids, well she’d had no excuse for that other than it had looked the part at the time.
Roisin shuddered at the memory of Mammy driving them all demented as she issued orders from the sofa with her big casty foot resting on the coffee table. She’d even had to help Mammy off the loo after she’d dropped her crutches. Scarred, she was, scarred she thought, shaking the visuals away. She’d only had a few weeks of it, but poor Aisling and Moira had been ready to send her back to Vietnam with a “do not return” sticker by the time she finally got the plaster off and could go home to fend for herself. The first of the cases bounced
