‘Don’t think I didn’t hear you plotting,’ Maureen said as the microwave pinged.
‘Ah, Mammy, I hardly get to see him as it is and sure by the time, he picks me up, we will have sorted this party of yours out and you’ll be wanting to go to bed.’
‘Our party, Rosi, and fair play to you but you’d better not disappear tomorrow. I want you back here at the crack of dawn.’
‘I won’t. I promise.’ Nine o’clock was plenty early enough, she decided.
‘Make yourself useful and close the curtains would you. I should have done it before I went to pick you up.’
Roisin obliged but as she went to shut the blinds overlooking the balcony, she let out a shriek. ‘Mammy there’s a giant rat on your outdoor furniture. It’s got glowing eyes and it’s staring at me as if it wants to eat me!’
‘Jaysus wept, Roisin. Aisling’s the drama queen not you.’ Maureen moved to where Rosi was shuddering at the spectacle outside. ‘It’s Peaches, you eejit, the Persian next door is all.’
Roisin leaned in close to the window for a better look, her breath leaving a misty patch. ‘It’s got a pom-pom on the end of its tail and around its feet. That’s not normal.’
‘That’s down to her next door, she’s after entering the cat in a competition and she’s aiming for Peaches to take out the title of Supreme Cat.’ Maureen was taking a plate out of the microwave.
‘It frightened me so it did, Mammy.’ Roisin held her hand to her chest. ‘My heart’s still banging away.’ She closed the blinds, not wanting those beady eyes watching her eat her dinner.
Maureen carried the plate over to the table.
‘Is it your homemade pie, Mammy?’ Rosi asked, sitting down in front of the steaming pile of creamy mashed potato and beef mince with baby beans. She was hoping a glass of wine might be offered because she could do with one after the encounter she’d just had. She was in luck, she thought, seeing Mammy open a bottle of red.
‘It is, Rosi.’ She knew the pie was her daughter’s favourite.
Roisin began to tuck in, her earlier horror at her mammy talking about carrying on and the likes forgotten, almost. If she was still making cottage pie for her with lashings of creamy mashed spud on top, then she was still Mammy. ‘Are you going to pour that or are we just going to admire the bottle?’ She gestured to the wine bottle standing open on the table.
‘I’m letting it breathe, Roisin. Good things take time.’
‘It’ll be time for me to go home by the time you get around to giving me a drink.’ Rosi picked up her glass and held it out.
Maureen sighed, saying something about heathen children as she poured Rosi’s glass. She helped herself too because if you couldn’t beat them you might as well join them.
Rosi cleaned up her plate in no time and washed it up before settling herself on the sofa. Maureen busied herself finding the notepad on which she’d written out a list delegating various tasks between her, Rosi, Aisling and Moira. She checked to see Pooh was happy in his basket and wouldn’t be interrupting their call before glancing at the time. ‘Right, it’s time to phone the girls.’ She sat down next to Rosi so she could lean in and follow the conversation, hearing it ring a couple of times before it was answered.
‘Aisling? It’s your mammy.’ Maureen took charge before Roisin could open her mouth to speak.
‘I know who it is, Mammy. You said you were going to be calling at this time.’
‘Is your sister there?’
‘I’m here, Mammy,’ Moira chimed in before asking, ‘Is Rosi there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘How’re you, Rosi? Good flight was it?’ Moira asked.
‘Grand. A little bumpy ten minutes in mind.’
‘Aisling, Moira, there’ll be plenty of time for chit-chat with your sister later. This is a business call and as such I’ll do the Minutes. I’m after ticking off you’re all present.’
Roisin watched as her mammy did just that.
‘Moira, Aisling, have you a notepad and a pen ready like I asked you?’
‘Yes, Mammy,’ Aisling replied.
‘Good, let’s begin. Moira, you’re going to be our waitress for the evening and I want you to write this down. You’re NOT to go your own way and wear anything that shows your knickers because you’ll put the ladies off their finger food. I want us all in the yoga pants so as to demonstrate their versatility. Did you write that down?’
‘We must all be wearing the yoga pants,’ Moira repeated. ‘To show everybody you can hand out drinks and finger food while wearing them without flashing your knickers.’
Maureen frowned. It was always hard to tell whether Moira was being smart or not. She moved on to Aisling. ‘I’ve you down for working the room, Aisling. You’re going to be our glamour girl.’
‘Mammy, that’s not fair,’ Moira butted in. ‘She’s an old married woman. I should be the glamour girl.’
‘No, Moira, you always look bandy legged to me when you wear the high heels. We want to sell the yoga pants not put people off. Aisling has the knack of walking properly in them and a glamour girl has to wear high heels.’
Roisin snorted which didn’t escape Moira. ‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at John Wayne.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Roisin frowned.
‘If anybody’s getting about the place walking all bandy legged like a cowboy
