‘Giving the buns, away are you?’ Margaret ignored her moans and groans never pausing in her purl stitch.
‘You want to take a leaf out of my book, Alma, and retire,’ Noreen offered up.
‘Sure, and how am I supposed to afford the likes of putting my feet up when Margaret here would have me giving away my earnings. She’d have me in the poor house.’
‘Ah, get away with you. I’ll have a bun but heat it up would you and for the love of God put some butter on it,’ Agnes said, and Alma scuttled off before she could change her mind. Noreen topped up the pot and while she waited for the tea to steep, she filled her three friends in on the invitation she’d received a few days ago.
‘So, the wedding is at the family’s church there in Dublin and the reception is to be held at the restaurant her fiancé owns. And you’ll be accommodated at the guesthouse your grand-niece or whatever she is runs,’ Kathleen clarified. None of the women had been able to come up with an appropriate title for the daughter of a cousin either so grand-niece it was.
Noreen nodded.
‘Well for someone who won’t have to lift a finger for a few days you don’t look very happy about it all,’ Agnes pointed out.
‘Is it Emer?’ Kathleen asked, studying Noreen’s face, knowing the family history. ‘Will she be there?’
Noreen’s lips tightened at the mention of her sister’s child, Emer, who she’d taken under her wing. Emer, who she’d treated like a daughter. Emer, who’d betrayed her.
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘She will.’
Chapter 5
‘Aisling, eat something would you,’ Leila said, watching her friend play with her food across the table. She’d have preferred to go to Quinn’s for lunch but Aisling had suggested they come here to Holy Moly the self-proclaimed salad gurus of Dublin instead. The only reason Aisling wanted to steer clear of her fiancé’s bistro was because she knew he’d ignore her dietary requirements and present her with a plate heaped full of her favourite, bangers ‘n’ mash. Quinn, Aisling had confided in Leila, did not make her efforts to lose weight before the wedding easy. Aisling, Quinn had confided in Leila, was a nightmare when she was hungry and he wished she’d buy a dress in the next size up and be done with it.
‘I don’t like chickpeas.’ Aisling speared one viciously with her fork before eying it as though it were a cyanide pill.
‘Then why did you order a Moroccan salad?’
‘Because it sounded exotic but healthy. I’d have rather have had what you’re having but I didn’t want all the garlicy, mayonnaise stuff. Perhaps I should have asked for it without the dressing.’
Leila had chosen the chicken Caesar salad and was thoroughly enjoying it. ‘Yes, but if you don’t have the dressing, it doesn’t taste like a Caesar salad which defeats the purpose. Here have some croutons.’ She flicked a couple over onto Aisling’s plate.
Aisling crunched on them and then helped herself to a few more until Leila thwacked her with her fork. ‘Leave some for me.’
‘Sorry.’ It wasn’t fair Aisling lamented. Leila was a petite blue-eyed blonde who could stuff as many croutons and the like down her as she wanted and never gain a pound. Sure, all she had to do was sniff anything remotely tasty and it took up residence on her hips. She debated briefly as to whether she should risk one more, crispy piece of the dried bread but then decided no, she’d crack on with what they’d come here to talk about. It would take her mind off eating, for the interim at any rate. ‘I don’t want anything to be the same, Leila. Not one single thing. You know that don’t you?’
‘As when you were planning to marry Marcus the Fecker McDonagh? Yes, Aisling, you’ve mentioned it more than once.’
‘Exactly.’ She waved her fork at her friend and the chickpea fell back into the bowl. ‘I’m not shopping at Ivory Bridal Couture this time around either because I think it jinxed me the last time.’
‘The only thing jinxing you was that ex-fecker of a fiancé of yours and good riddance to him.’
Aisling agreed with the latter sentiment. ‘I know, if Marcus hadn’t jilted me then I wouldn’t have gotten together with Quinn but I’m not taking any chances, Leila. I’ve booked us an appointment at Bridal Emporium on Friday afternoon, which, as you know is a one-stop shop for the bride, the bridesmaid, and the mother of the bride, then on the Saturday we’ve an appointment at Hair She Goes to figure out how we’re all going to be wearing our hair. I texted you the times, did you get it? It’s going to be a busy weekend.’
Leila held a hand up. ‘You’re speaking way too fast, Aisling. Slow down and take a deep breath.’
Aisling knew she was beginning to sound like one of the Chipmunks whenever she talked about her wedding but she couldn’t help it. She inhaled slowly through her nose and out through her mouth like Roisin had showed her. It helped a little.
Leila carried on. ‘It is going to be busy, but sure, it’s great Rosi’s coming over to be part of it all.’
‘Yes, she can help me keep Mammy in line. I think Mammy’s feeling a little left out of things but one of the reasons I chose Bridal Emporium was so she’ll be occupied choosing her mammy of the bride outfit instead of focussing on my dress. Do you remember, Roisin’s?’
‘I do.’ Leila said sobering at the memory of the white crochet toilet dolly dress, Roisin had been lumbered with in order to keep her mammy happy. Then, thinking of Maureen O’Mara sitting all alone in her apartment in Howth when she could be joining them for lunch added, ‘Poor Maureen. You should have brought
