‘What are you on about?’ Mammy bustled over. She’d been practising her mysterious mammy-of-the-bride look as she peered out from under the hat sitting heavy on her head thanks to the weight of all those feathers. If she were to venture into rural Ireland she’d be in danger of being pecked at by hens, Moira had said upon seeing it.
Feathers aside, Aisling thought, giving her mammy the once-over, she did look beautiful and she had a spring in her step of late that made Aisling wonder about this man friend of hers. When she got back from her honeymoon, she’d sit down with her and make her talk. The offer of tea and a bun at Bewley’s should do the trick. Adrenalin ricocheted through her. She’d be a married woman by then, she’d be Mrs Aisling O’Mara-Moran sitting down having a very adult conversation about relationships with her mammy.
‘I’ve given her the something blue,’ Moira chirped up.
Aisling had been touched that, despite her sister’s constant referencing of her student poverty, she’d splashed out what funds she had on a pearl studded, pale blue hair slide, fixing it in her sister’s hair herself. She’d stood back admiring her handiwork. Aisling had decided not to ask her if she’d splurged her bookkeeping earnings to buy the barrette. The odds had been on her winning the great weight loss race and she hadn’t disappointed. Moira, as such, was in the money. Bronagh’s sulk had only lasted a day, by the end of which they were all sick to the back teeth of hearing how Aisling had had an unfair advantage because she wasn’t suffering the ravages of the menopause.
The gift that had brought tears to her eyes along with shrieks from Moira that she was not to cry or her mascara would run, was from Maeve. It finally felt right to call Quinn’s mammy by her name. She’d knocked on the door to the family apartment at the guesthouse earlier that morning having made the journey especially so she could present Aisling with a delicate gold chain with a single pearl set in a daisy filigree of white gold. ‘It was my mammy’s, Aisling,’ she’d said. ‘I wore it when I married Quinn’s dad and I want you to have it now.’
Aisling knew it was her way of welcoming her into the family and she was touched. She was also relieved her hat wasn’t bigger than Mammy’s or there’d have been ructions.
Leila was making the rounds of the living room checking over her charges. She had been a superstar these last two days dealing with all the cancellations. With a smile of satisfaction on her face, Leila announced. ‘Well, I think we have time for a glass of bubbles before Ned arrives.’
‘Mummy, can I have bubbles?’ Noah beseeched Roisin. He was bored of all the primping and fussing.
‘No, you can’t. Bubbles aren’t for children.’
‘Ah sure, a tiny sip won’t hurt him, Roisin,’ Maureen bossed. Her grandson was back in her good books after yesterday’s misdemeanour. She’d been mortified when she’d introduced him to Cormac and he’d asked if he had a gerbil on top of his head. Cormac had not been amused.
Leila popped the cork and did the honours, passing out the flutes.
‘Thanks for this, Leila.’ Moira said, raising her sparkling grape juice.
‘You’re a bad influence, Mammy,’ Roisin said, seeing mammy give her grandson a tiny taste.
Aisling held up her glass, clearing her throat. ‘You all look so beautiful, and Noah you’re very handsome. I’m so blessed to have you in my life and thanks so much for putting up with me these last few weeks.’
There was a collective murmuring and Aisling picked up on Moira saying that, yes, she had been a pain in the arse but they all loved her.
She took a sip of the golden liquid, feeling giddy with happiness as the bubbles pinged in her mouth. A few mouthfuls later, the phone rang and Roisin answered it, announcing that Ned was waiting for them downstairs. Mammy led the charge.
‘Mammy, don’t you be doing that that thing you’re after doing with your hat, or you’ll trip going down the stairs,’ Roisin ordered, following behind her, a firm hold on her son’s hand lest he have any thought about racing off to drag Mr Nibbles along with them. The thought of the gerbil getting loose in St Theresa’s made her skin prickle.
They burst out the doors of O’Mara’s to where Ned was holding the door of the limousine open for them. The blonde one had convinced him to do a cut price church run. It was a first, he thought, wondering how the mammy one was going to get in the back with that rooster on her head.
Chapter 36
‘To Mr and Mrs Moran!’
Mercifully her brother-in-law had finished his long-winded speech although Aisling thought, she needed him to make a tiny correction. She tapped him on the arm before he sat down. He leaned over to listen to what she had to say before straightening and clearing his throat.
‘Excuse me but that should have been to Mr Moran and Mrs O’Mara-Moran.’
‘To Mr Moran and Mrs O’Mara-Moran.’ Glasses were raised.
Maureen’s eyes prickled at the thought of how proud Brian would have been of his middle daughter today. Cormac did you proud in more ways than one she told him silently, reaching for Cormac’s hand under the table and giving it a squeeze. He returned it. She blinked those rogue tears away. Today was a happy day and as such she turned her attention instead to the bistro. There were no fancy table arrangements, although they had followed her seating plan. Dinner had been the house speciality here at Quinn’s, bangers ‘n’ mash. Paula was doing a superb job of keeping the wine flowing she saw, watching the girl scurry from table to table. Too much of a good job given how some were imbibing – her heathen brothers for starters. She gave Frankie and Brendan
