‘I’d like to be able to do that,’ said the woman with the helmet hair and hearing aids.
‘Not with your bad shoulder, Flo,’ said her friend sitting alongside her.
The pants were taking on magical qualities, sure anything was possible when you were wearing the Mo-Pant! This underlying feeling in the room was exacerbated by Maureen deciding to end things on a lively note. She pushed play on the portable stereo she’d borrowed from Moira and, with a clap of her hands and a turn of her toes, launched into the Tush Push, urging those that wanted to join her to come on up and take a turn on the floor. There was a scraping of chairs followed by a veritable stampede as the women and one man formed two rows following Maureen’s lead. Roisin, Aisling, Moira and Bronagh watched their mammy lead the crowd in amazement.
‘She almost makes me want to line dance,’ Aisling said.
‘Me too,’ agreed Roisin.’
‘That’s only because you’re drinking the casky wine,’ said Moira. ‘That’s your third cup each.’
‘I’m going to give it a go,’ said Bronagh, getting up and tagging on the end of the back row.
Needless to say, they sold out of the Mo-pant and Tom wound up being the courtesy driver for a hall full of women who’d had a skinful by home time.
Chapter 25
‘Mammy, my head hurts and it’s your fault for buying the casky wine,’ Aisling bleated down the telephone. She was dressed but only just, and sitting on the sofa sipping a milky brew with an extra teaspoon of sugar in it. The television was flashing bright pictures she was staring at but not seeing in front of her. Quinn was snuggled up next to her on the sofa enjoying a lazy morning with his wife having given up on the idea of anything more than a cuddle because, when he’d made hopeful overtures, she’d told him if he wanted to go riding then he’d best get himself off down to a stables and find a new filly. He’d taken that as a no. She should push him off, she thought, knowing she would’ve normally been downstairs by now checking in on young James who manned the fort of a weekend. She couldn’t summon the energy yet though. Moira was making an unnecessary amount of noise sorting her breakfast out in the kitchen.
‘Don’t blame me, blame your sister. The cask wine was Rosi’s bright idea.’
‘I can’t blame her, she’s at Shay’s.’
‘How many cups were you after having?’
‘Five or six.’ Her stomach roiled at the thought of it but she’d needed to blank out the boob incident. Quinn had thought it hilarious when Moira told him what happened and she was currently not speaking to either of them. Moira’s earlier words to her had been, ‘Forced down your throat was it?’ when her sister moaned about the state she was in earlier.
Maureen repeated the sentiment. ‘Well, you’ll get no sympathy from me, Aisling, nobody forced it down your throat. It serves you right, you should know better at your age.’
‘Mammy!’ Sympathy and tender loving care was what Aisling needed now.
‘Don’t Mammy me and don’t you be thinking you’re wheedling your way out of lunch today either. One o’clock, Aisling, at Johnnie Fox’s.’
Aisling sighed. She’d go and see Mrs Baicu, a fry-up would sort her out. ‘I know, Mammy, and I don’t see why Quinn isn’t invited. He’s my husband you know.’
‘Yes, I do know, Aisling, and Laura’s husband’s not coming so your Quinn’s not either. And tell Moira she’s not to wear the skirt that shows her knickers.’ Maureen knew she kept mentioning this but she also knew her daughter. ‘And you, Aisling O’Mara, under no circumstances are to wear the red top you had on last night. When I think of the Holy show, you with your boob out for all to see.’
‘Ah, don’t be mentioning that, Mammy, or I’ll not come to lunch. And you can tell Moira yourself. She’s right here.’ Aisling passed the phone to her sister and she and Quinn took themselves off in search of a full Irish breakfast.
‘Mammy, what’s my cut of last night’s take?’ Moira demanded, taking a pew on the vacated sofa. She leaned her back against the arm rest and stretched her legs out so they were resting in the warm spot Aisling had left behind. There’d been no squeaking bed springs this morning on account of Aisling’s sore head but still and all, she was warming to the idea of moving in with Tom. She liked the idea of opening her eyes each morning and seeing his face. What she didn’t like was getting the evil eye from his swotty flatmates because they thought she was freeloading by staying over all the time. She’d been on the receiving end of one such look this morning as she’d left Tom to his studies earlier on. Any extra money she could lay her hands on would go into her flat-sharing fund, which was why she had her palm out now, figuratively speaking.
‘Nothing. You worked for love. It’s what families do, Moira.’ Maureen was extremely pleased with how the evening had gone, Aisling’s unfortunate flashing aside. They’d made a tidy profit.
‘They don’t and I didn’t. I want paying, Mammy, and I want to make sure it’s your treat today too before I promise I’m coming.’
Maureen huffed down the line. ‘I’ll see what I can do but only if you promise not to show me up at lunch today. You’re to wear trousers, the Mo-pant if you want, but none of the knicker flashing skirts’ you’re so fond of. Do ya hear me?’
‘I hear ya.’
Maureen got off the phone banging out Roisin’s number next. Her voice was thick with sleep when she answered.
‘Rise and shine, Roisin, you’ve an important lunch to be getting ready for and I want you looking
