‘Ah well, I’m sorry, ladies, I can’t help you there. Rosi buys them in London.’
Nuala pursed her lips in disappointment.
‘Can you not ask her to get us a pair each?’ Fidelma asked.
Maureen felt the stirrings of an idea. She untied Pooh who was definitely going to be getting a treat in a moment and said. ‘Listen, ladies, leave it with me would you, and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘You could put me down for a pair too,’ Rosemary said. ‘There’s no flexibility in these.’ She gestured to her dark denim jeans.
‘What’s that you’re all on about?’ Marian asked, joining them out the front, Mary and Agnes peering over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.
By the time Maureen set off for home she had ten orders for yoga pants and a business plan was beginning to form. She walked briskly, keen to telephone Rosi.
Chapter 6
Maureen conveniently forgot about her having told Moira just that morning not to be ringing Roisin when she was at work. She peered at the number scrawled in her telephone book and tapped it out waiting impatiently for her eldest daughter to answer. She wouldn’t normally ring London at this time of the day, what with it being peak rates, but this was important and besides, if things went to plan, she’d be able to claim the call as a business expense. Roisin’s dulcet tones reverberated down the line.
‘Rosi, it’s your mammy.’
‘Is everything alright, Mammy, you don’t normally ring me at work.’
‘Everything is grand. Now, I want you to listen carefully as to what I’m about to say.’
‘Mammy, you’re not a spy in the cold war.’
‘Don’t be clever, Roisin, this is important. I’m after having a brainwave.’
‘Did it hurt?’
Maureen ignored her. ‘I want to host a Tupperware party except instead of Tupperware we’d be selling yoga pants. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re mad.’
‘No, hear me out, Roisin. You told me you buy the yoga pants off a local market. Well, what you do is buy up big and bring them over here with you and we put a decent mark-up on them. I’ll have nibbles and drinks organised here to get the ladies in the mood for spending and when they’re nicely relaxed you can do a demonstration of your bendy yoga. They’ll be so impressed by the way you can lunge and touch your toes and things they’ll have to splash the cash. We split the profit and we’re laughing all the way to the bank.’
Over in London, Roisin was holding the phone away from her ear, looking at it with a frown on her face as she shook her head. Her family were mad the lot of them. She’d already had Moira on the phone last night worrying over where Mammy was and again this morning going on about her having been on a dinner date with her man-friend. She’d prattled on about how Mammy had mentioned a luncheon where they were going to meet him officially. Roisin was looking forward to Aisling returning from her honeymoon so Mammy and Moira had someone else to annoy.
‘Come on, Rosi, I need you on board. I can’t do it without you bringing the gear in. I’ll take care of your airfares.’
Oh, for fecks sake, now Mammy sounded like she was organising for her to smuggle drugs in on Ryan Air. Then again, a free trip to Dublin to see Shay was not to be sniffed at. ‘What about sizes and things how would you know how many of each to order?’ She’d not thought this madcap idea of hers through properly.
Maureen visualised the line dancing ladies, the golfing ladies, the yacht club ladies, the water colour painting class ladies and the bowls ladies. ‘Large, and one or two mediums would do the trick.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
Rosi hadn’t been nicknamed easy-osi Rosi by her family for nothing and she knew her mammy well enough to know she had the bit firmly between her teeth on this one and wouldn’t let it go until she got her way. ‘Alright, alright. I’ll do it.’
Chapter 7
Bronagh finished tapping the reservation, that had come through the fax machine two minutes ago from a German tour operator, into the computer. She was using far more force on the keyboard than was necessary, not that taking her current mood out on it was making her feel any better. She carefully noted down the reservation in the book she kept beside the Mac as backup because she refused to put all her faith in the computer, before opening her drawer. She retrieved the custard creams snaffling one down and then another. What did it matter if she put the weight back on she’d worked so hard to lose for Aisling’s wedding? Who cared? She could pinpoint the moment when she’d begun to feel out of sorts; not grumpy as such, well, a little yes but it was mingled with a malaise that was most unlike her.
This current frame of mind had descended when Moira had breezed through reception in a pair of boots Bronagh was certain didn’t belong to her. When she’d pointed this out, Moira had ignored the part about the boots not belonging to her and informed Bronagh this particular style was called a bootie, not a boot per se. She thought she was awfully clever now she was at the college, Bronagh had thought. Moira had attempted to con a custard cream from her as was her usual morning routine. Now, Bronagh was glad she’d only let her have one of the biscuits because she needed them more than Moira did.
Moira had put the whole thing in her mouth and perched on the edge of the desk, brushing the crumbs from her jeans before telling her what was on her mind. ‘I spoke to Mammy this morning.’
‘Oh
