‘I see.’ Bronagh didn’t see at all. Roisin sat down next to her. ‘Mammy’s after telling her she’s the glamour girl. She’s demonstrating how the yo-erm, Mo-pant, can be stylish and sophisticated, to show everyone they’re not just for exercise, or lounging about.’
‘Wine, Bronagh?’ Moira asked before Bronagh could reply to Roisin. She was holding up the bottle to ensure Bronagh could see the label.
‘Ooh, lovely, I don’t mind if I do.’
Moira made the rounds and smirked upon hearing Rosemary Farrell telling her friend, she enjoyed good wine as it helped ease the ache in her hip and this was a fine drop indeed. Maureen had done them proud. She had to duck out back and replenish her bottle more than once and by the time she’d finished filling everyone’s cups, Mammy was standing in the centre of the semi-circle about to begin.
‘Good evening, ladies and er, gentlemen.’
All heads swivelled back to where Maureen had directed the latter part of her introduction. Roisin felt an urge to giggle but knew she’d cop it from Mammy later if she did. It was the man from the airport who’d watched Mammy’s demonstration and he was looking just as bewildered as he had in the Arrivals hall, only now he was beetroot because forty odd women were all eyeballing him. How’d he snuck in without her noticing?
‘Thank you for coming,’ Maureen beamed. ‘We’ve a grand evening ahead of us with wine, some lovely finger food, and a live yoga demonstration by my daughter, Roisin.’
This time all eyes settled on Rosi and she gave a small wave.
‘My name’s Maureen for those of you who don’t know me and I’m here tonight to introduce you to the Mo-pant.’
‘I can’t hear you down the back!’ shouted, a woman with a helmet of grey hair, a hearing aid visible in either ear.
‘Turn them on,’ her friend sitting next to her bellowed tapping her own ear.
Maureen thought, there’s always one in the room before continuing, her voice a decibel louder. ‘The Mo-pant is the one pant for all occasions. The one size fits all pant. It’s the comfiest, most flattering pair of pants you’ll ever own. First off though, you’ve met Roisin now say hello to Moira my youngest daughter who’s your waitress tonight.’
‘Hello, Moira,’ came the dutiful reply.
‘Could I have a drop more wine, Moira, please, it’s going down ever so well, so it is,’ said a sweet-faced little lady Maureen recognised from bowls on account of the fact she was a known cheater.
Moira smiled beatifically. ‘Certainly.’
‘And to my middle daughter, Aisling,’ she turned to gesture over to where she’d last seen Aisling who was taking her role very seriously and had decided to improvise. She was strutting around the semi-circle of seating as though stalking the catwalk. Her hand was on her hip and each foot placed carefully in front of the other before she came to a halt beside Maureen turning slowly around affording everyone the chance to check out the Mo-pant from every angle. Unfortunately, her exertions had freed the boob and Maureen hissed in her ear to put it back where it belonged because this was a Mo-pants party, not a peep show.
Roisin felt a dangerous bubble of laughter rise in her throat as she overheard a woman behind her say, ‘I don’t know if her booby was supposed to be bobbing about like so but sure, her bottom looks grand in the pants.’
‘It does, Dolly,’ came the reply, ‘It reminds me of the story by yer man Dahl. You know the giant peach one.’
‘Didn’t she do well!’ Maureen rallied her crowd, determined to ignore the wardrobe malfunction. They duly applauded and Aisling took herself off to the side, flashing a look at Moira that managed to convey, ‘I’m bigger than you so don’t you dare breathe a word of my boob walk to anyone’ without a single word spoken out loud.
‘So you can see, ladies and erm, sir, the Mo-pant looks just as at home here in the church hall as it would out for dinner or at a nightclub.’
‘Or strip club,’ someone mumbled, as murmurings in the crowd about the naked breast having no place in a church hall began, but any dissent was swiftly quelled by Moira beginning to offer about the platter of tasty skewers. She whipped it by Joan Fairbrother who barely managed to get one in her hot little hand let alone two.
‘In a moment,’ Maureen said. ‘I’m going to pass around two pairs of the Mo-pant and you can feel for yourself how soft and luxurious the material is. Ladies,’ she leaned in conspiratorially. ‘you’re never going to want to wear anything else again.’ She handed a pair of pants to the two ladies at opposite ends of the first row of chairs and stood back as they were passed along. ‘Feel free to ask any questions.’
‘She’s very good,’ Bronagh said to Roisin in between nibbles of her skewer. ‘So’s this.’ She waggled her cup as Moira passed by indicating she’d like a top up. ‘She’s like a yoga pant guru, your mam.’
‘Mo-pant,’ Roisin corrected. She was surprised because her mammy was indeed like one of those women from the infomercials on the television. She was a natural and she fancied she could already hear the purses opening behind her.
By the time Maureen had answered all the questions fired at her and Moira was doing the rounds with the last tray of food, the voices in the hall were noticeably louder and laughter rang out here and there. The wine was going down a treat. Maureen almost rubbed her hands together with delight over how the party was panning out. Self-congratulations would have to wait for now though because it was time for Roisin’s demonstration. She made the introduction and sat down in the chair Roisin had just vacated, watching as she laid her yoga mat out.
Rosi told her rapt audience what she was going to do and then ran through a
