Moira scowled.
‘I resolve to qualify as a yoga teacher and find a successful work life balance,’ Roisin offered.
‘All well and good, Rosi,’ Maureen looked up from her note taking, ‘but, number six here suggests being organised. I’ll jot it down, shall I?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘That will help you along your way with your balancing and your yoga, so it will.’
She was still writing when Aisling spoke.
‘Hold your horses, Aisling, I’m not done yet.’
Aisling busied herself arranging her napkin over her empty dessert bowl as though that would render it invisible.
‘Now you can speak.’
‘I’m going to lose weight in time for my wedding.’
‘I’m telling you, Aisling, the Ciccone Scent diet works miracles,’ Cindy chirruped.
Aisling gave her a wan smile and wished she was her sister so she could kick her under the table like she frequently did Rosi and Moira.
‘Hmm.’ Maureen tapped the pen to her lip. ‘Learn to delegate is on the list. Now, that sounds like you, Aisling. I’m going to add that. You need to stop trying to do everything yourself and getting your knickers all knotted. You won’t lose weight until you do that because you know you’re a stress nibbler.’
‘Thanks for that, Mammy.’ Aisling eyed Roisin’s half eaten profiterole it would be a shame to waste it. ‘And what about you, Mammy?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ the others chimed, waiting expectantly.
‘Ah, well now, I’ve already written mine down. I’d like to travel more, learn something new, and enjoy life to the fullest.’ She looked from one to the other daring them to say a word.
Moira snatched the notebook and pen and scrawled something in it.
‘What’s that you’re after putting down?’
‘I resolve to stop stealing my daughters’ belongings, especially Moira’s.’
One and a half hours until midnight...
THE JAZZ BAND HAD LAUNCHED into a rambunctious version of Happy Birthday and Carol listened out for the tap on the box that would signal it was time. She knew the drill, wait for the tap, count to three, and then burst forth. Ah, there it was—just as well because she was beginning to seize up.
One, two, three! And out she popped of the cake. Her arms were raised as she struck a pose and shouted, ‘Surprise!’ Only this time Carol, or Pandora as she used to be known, was clothed and there wasn’t a tassel in sight! She revelled in the cheers and applause, blowing kisses at her beloved audience. It was a triumphant moment in a long career that had seen her begin as an exotic dancer here at Coco’s. For a split second as she batted her lashes, which satisfyingly stayed in place, Carol was eighteen years old again. Her bosom was not held up by reinforced wire but free and pert as she expertly twirled the tassels attached to her nipples. It had been her signature act. She caught sight of Sarah whose mouth had fallen open and winked at her. Oh, dear the poor girl was in shock, she thought. Perhaps she should have warned her.
Sarah however, surprised her by getting up from her seat and putting both fingers in her mouth to whistle in a most un-accountant like manner before applauding her mother enthusiastically.
Carol took a bow and thought perhaps she’d been too quick to judge her daughter. Maybe she wasn’t the prude she’d had her pegged as after all. Still waters ran deep.
Ten minutes later when a jubilant Carol, champagne flute in hand joined her daughter at her table it was her jaw that dropped when Sarah leaned in and whispered in her ear. ‘Like mother like daughter. How do you think I paid my way through college?’
Fifteen minutes past midnight...
THE SCREAMS OF HAPPY New Year were dying down as the fireworks continued to explode sending a cacophony of colour into the night sky. The pavements were full of New Year’s revellers hugging and kissing one another in delight at being part of such a momentous occasion. In amongst the cheering crowds marvelling at the display was Patrick, with Noah perched on his shoulders, the little boy staring in wonder at it all. Cindy was next to them in her Russian Cossack hat and faux fur coat whilst Maureen, prattling on about KY2 bugs, had her arm linked through Roisin’s. Moira and Aisling had opted to stay back at Quinn’s with their menfolk—they were missing out Roisin thought. The mood here was as electric as the Bruce Springsteen concert she’d gone to at Wembley back in ‘85.
She’d have liked to have seen the new year in with Shay but she’d managed to sneak in a more than satisfactory snog with him out the back of Quinn’s when the band was on a break. It would have to suffice. She looked up at her son, wondering how he would take finding out Shay was a ‘special’ friend of mummy’s. She hoped his tummy wouldn’t twist like hers had upon hearing her mammy had a special friend of her own. She’d suspected she might, but to hear her actually say it out loud had been difficult. It had been Patrick who’d put his foot down when Mammy had taken herself off downstairs. He’d told them all to shut up and that as the oldest he was pulling rank. They were all to behave normally and not say a word or he’d give them a dead arm like he used to when they were kids. It hadn’t been easy but they’d managed it.
No, she mused. It wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to having with Noah, but one that would need to be had if Shay continued to make her heart beat faster and her knees go weak every time, she saw him. Noah was oblivious to the thoughts racing around his mummy’s head as he yawned, his head beginning to droop. It was time they pushed their way back through the hordes and headed home, Roisin
