‘Mo, I have swapped the beautiful sunshine and palm trees of LA for winter in Dublin. Please tell me the wedding is going ahead this Saturday.’
If he’d been hoping she’d be taken aback by the intimation anything was wrong then he’d have been disappointed. He watched as her mouth performed a dance of indecision before she called out, ‘Aisling O’Mara, get out here now and explain to your uncle Cormac, who’s flown all the way from Los Angeles what’s going on.’
It took a moment or two but Aisling mooched forth looking like she’d been sleeping rough and Cormac gave her a head to toe once over before stamping his Versace clad foot. ‘No, absolutely not, Aisling. Not a second time. I’m not having it.’
Aisling stared at him dully, she’d have thought Mammy would have told everybody not to come. She was the one in charge of the guest list. She tried to catch her eye but Maureen was feigning great interest in the tea she was brewing.
‘You are not cancelling on me twice, Aisling. Now, sit yourself down and tell me what’s happened.’
It was a funny thing, Aisling thought, doing as she was told, but when her uncle was mad his American accent became decidedly Irish. Cormac sat down next to her, kicking off his loafers, and she tried not to fixate on his sock clad feet as he began rotating his fat ankles in little circles. He looked at her in a way that brooked no nonsense and she caught a glimpse of her daddy in his features. It made her feel warm inside and she found herself babbling the whole sorry story out. Maureen brought his tea over, making unhelpful mmm noises at different points in Aisling’s monologue.
When Aisling had run dry, Cormac looked at her. ‘Is that all? You’ve quibbled over a few pounds?’
‘It was more than a few pounds, Uncle Cormac.’
‘Pfft.’ He made a motion with his hand as though it were a matter too trivial to be bothered with. ‘Well, you don’t need to worry because your fairy godmother is here now. Once I’ve had my tea and my ankles have returned to their normal size, we are off to see that fiancé of yours.’
Maureen gave a strangled cough as her tea went down the wrong way.
Chapter 34
Quinn and Aisling were seated opposite each other at the table in the kitchen of his mammy and daddy’s house. They were both studying the rings left behind by hot drinks over the years, the marks of family life. The sweet smell of baking hung on the air but there was no cosiness to be found in the sugary smells. Aisling had her hands folded in her lap and Cormac was sitting at the head of the table like a presiding judge. She felt as if she’d been called to the headmistress’s office for a playground misdemeanour. If only she could get a rap over the knuckles and be done with it but Quinn hadn’t looked at her, not once, since Cormac had ordered them both to sit down. She felt sick and wasn’t even the slightest bit tempted to help herself to one of Mrs Moran’s brownie biscuits. There was no way she could call her Maeve, not now. Unlike her mammy who’d been all, ‘Now then, Maeve, what are we going to do about these children of ours?’ And whom she suspected right now had her head together with Quinn’s mammy in the living room discussing their eejitty children.
If Mrs Moran had been surprised to find a washed-out Aisling, Maureen O’Mara, and a little man in a Miami Vice suit and a hair piece standing on her doorstep that damp Dublin afternoon, she’d hidden it well. She’d been gracious, ushering them in out of the cold before fussing about making tea. She’d even managed to retrieve a herbal teabag for Cormac. There was no need for him to know it had been lurking down the back of her cupboard since Ivo had gone out with that girl with the dippy hippy ways a few years back. If anything, Maeve was grateful that someone was taking matters in hand and she had a feeling that Cormac was the right man for the job.
Quinn had not come quietly, protesting all the way from his room, but he’d clammed up when he saw the trio of O’Maras standing around the kitchen table. He’d managed to shake Cormac’s hand and mumble hellos to Maureen and Aisling. He was well mannered her boy, even if he was an eejit. He hadn’t looked Aisling in the eye but she’d seen Aisling risk a glance from under her lashes at him. Her mouth had parted a little, startled by his dishevelled appearance. Maeve had tried to talk sense into her son by telling him Aisling had gotten carried away, that was all, but he was cut from the same cloth as his father and it was a stubborn one. She’d even had to remind him to shower like she’d had to when he was a teenager these last few days. She gave a surreptitious sniff hoping he’d remembered to put deodorant on.
She’d hovered on the edge of the group unsure how this would go but when Cormac asked the young couple to sit down so they could have a chat, his manner had them both doing as they were told. He was a little like a male Judge Judy she’d thought, linking her arm through Maureen’s, assured things were going to be just fine. She suggested they take their tea and enjoy a slice of brownie
