Roisin couldn’t contain herself, she had to ask, ‘Erm, Cindy, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you sniffing your food?’
Cindy flashed her a blinding smile. ‘Of course, I don’t mind. The Ciccone-Scent diet is the latest craze sweeping through Hollywood. All the A-listers are trying it and getting great results.’
‘Oh, is it a sniff your food but don’t eat it diet then?’ Roisin could quite see you’d get results doing that.
Cindy laughed, it sounded high pitched and girly. ‘It’s not quite that simple, Roisin.’ She stabbed in the direction of the new potatoes with her fork. ‘I don’t touch potatoes in any form because they’re full of carbs. Carbs are the enemy. But us girls already knew that, right?’
Roisin nodded, looking everywhere but at her own plate where she’d already wolfed down the French fries that had been served with her prawns. As for Moira, she seemed to be trying to see how many of the deep-fried potato sticks she could get in her mouth at once. Mammy’s, like Roisin’s, were long gone. They’d both saved the prawns for last.
‘Okay, so as a devotee of the Ciccone-Scent diet, I avoid all carbs and only eat half of the protein served on my plate. Dr Ciccone’s research shows that inhaling your food before you eat it tricks your stomach into thinking it’s full and that way you only need to eat half your normal meal size. Makes sense, right?’
Um, no, it sounded mad, Roisin thought, as she nodded that yes it did.
‘I love it because it’s so easy to follow and I don’t have to buy any fancy food. It really works too. I, dropped five pounds before Patrick and I flew out of LA.’ Her eyes drifted down to Roisin’s midriff and she automatically sucked her stomach in.
‘You must be very disciplined, Cindy. Sure, I couldn’t be doing with sniffing and not eating.’
‘Oh, you could if you lived in LA, Roisin. Everybody does it.’
Roisin was very glad she lived in London.
Cindy pushed her plate away while the rest of them carried on shovelling in their food. Roisin was feeling panicked by the idea of only being allowed to inhale her food and so she was getting her prawns from plate to mouth in record time. ‘Excuse me, I’m just off to powder my nose.’ Cindy got up and caused several male patrons to begin choking on their fare as she sashayed past.
Mammy elbowed Moira, pointing, ‘Sure, look at your man there. He’s as bad as your Hugh Hefner Playboy one.’
Mammy and Moira launched into a discussion on everything that was wrong with a man, who was clearly old enough to be Cindy’s grandfather, having impure thoughts about a young woman.
‘He wants to tie a knot in it at his age,’ Moira said.
Once Cindy was out of earshot, Aisling leaned in close to Roisin, gesturing in Cindy’s direction. ‘Do you know what she’s after telling me and Moira?’
‘That she sniffs her food?’
‘What?’
‘Never mind.’ Roisin couldn’t be bothered explaining the whole Ciccone-Scent diet thing.
Aisling shook her head. ‘You’re an eejit. She told us Patrick was desperate to come home to Ireland for Christmas.’
‘Really?’ Roisin had always got the feeling Patrick was rather lukewarm when it came to Dublin. It wasn’t fast enough or glitzy enough for him. Oh, she knew right enough he loved them all. As much as Patrick loved anyone who wasn’t himself. It was just, Patrick.
He’d never been any different. Roisin could remember Mammy having to drag him away from shop windows when he’d caught sight of his reflection as a young lad. ‘People will think it’s the underwear on the mannequin you’re after drooling over Patrick,’ she’d said tugging at his arm. When they’d reached their teens, the battle of the bathroom had begun in earnest and Daddy had taken to timing them; turned out Patrick spent the longest getting ready of a morning. In the end they’d been allocated five-minute time slots apiece. Patrick had been most put out, but then it was the eighties and hair was big.
‘I know, I was surprised too, but she said he’s been missing us all something terrible and that he told her Christmas is a time for family.’
‘Stop it.’ Roisin wasn’t sure this was her brother they were talking about.
‘I’m only repeating what Cindy told me.’
Roisin felt a surge of love for her brother. Beneath all that shiny polish he was still the Pat she’d grown up with.
‘Apparently he’s ashamed of the way he behaved after Dad died. But you know Pat, he never could say he was sorry.’
That was true. Many a time Mammy had marched him in front of his sisters and ordered him to apologise for some misdemeanour or other like giving Barbie a crew cut so as he could enlist her in his army or standing on their dolls house, which had been demolished in a surprise attack by his army. The word had seemed to get stuck in his throat as he was held firm by Mammy. In the end he’d mutter something that came out in a big whoosh and Mammy would release him having decided to interpret it as an apology.
‘Cindy says he feels bad about pushing so hard for Mammy to sell O’Mara’s after Daddy died. He doesn’t know what got into him.’
‘So, he should,’ Roisin said.
Aisling nodded. It had been her who’d been the most affected by his behaviour. She was the one who’d fitted her life in around the guesthouse to ensure it stayed in the family.
‘Did she say why he was so keen to offload it? Was it to back some venture over in the States?’ That was what they’d all thought, after all.
‘No, apparently not. Well not entirely anyway. He thinks it was a kneejerk reaction to Daddy
