‘Good of you,’ Roisin muttered, glancing at Bronagh and Aisling sympathetically.
It was Bronagh that piped up, ‘She tried to make us pay her. Can you believe that?’
Roisin could quite believe it of her youngest sister. She took the opportunity to look at Bronagh’s skirt. It was still straining across her middle but there was a possibility there weren’t quite so many creases there as there’d been a month ago. She wondered if Moira might let her change her bet.
‘And we told her to feck off,’ Aisling added.
‘Excuse me, ladies.’ Moira tossed her ponytail indignantly, reminding Roisin of Black Beauty and she half expected her to whinny. She didn’t but her voice did take on a braying timbre. ‘This is my time.’ She tapped her watch for effect. ‘I could be in bed with a cup of tea and a plate of toast but I decided to get down these stairs and help you two along the road to weight loss success and do I get so much as thank you?’ She looked to Roisin and her mammy expecting them to agree it was terribly ungrateful behaviour on Aisling and Bronagh’s part. Roisin had already decided she wasn’t getting caught in the middle and as for Maureen she gave Aisling a stingy flick on the backside as she caught sight of her giving her sister a rude finger sign.
‘Don’t you be doing things like that down here, Aisling. You know better than that. Sure, what would our guests think if they were to walk in and see their hostess giving them the finger.’
‘I wasn’t doing it at any of our guests, Mammy, and that hurt.’
‘Yes, but they wouldn’t know that would they?’
Roisin sighed she was home alright.
‘Well, tell her to stop going on, Mammy,’ Aisling whined.
‘I’ll bang both your heads together in a minute, so I will.’
‘How’s Pooh getting on, since his,’ Bronagh mouthed the word, ‘snip?’
‘He’s doing ever so well. Top of the class at puppy school. They all looked to where the puppy had a leg cocked threateningly over by the sofa.
‘Pooh!’ Maureen herded him out the door reappearing a moment later. It’s alright,’ she said. ‘It was a number one, that’s all. He’s going through a phase of marking his territory. I think it’s the trauma after the, you know what. He’s feeling insecure.’
‘Well you can’t blame him now, can you?’ Bronagh petted the dog. She was feeling a lot more affection for the fellow now he wasn’t constantly trying to assault her. It was the wrong thing to do – there was life in the old dog (so to speak) yet it would seem. ‘Get down, you naughty boy,’ she shrieked.
‘Right,’ Roisin interjected. ‘I want to get this case upstairs because as lovely as it is standing about in reception listening to you lot carrying on, I’ve a phone call to make before we head off to the bridal shop.’
‘Lover boy?’ Moira asked, blocking the stairs.
‘If you mean Shay, then yes. He knows this weekend is all about Aisling and the wedding but I’m sure we can manage to squeeze in a catch-up. Maybe tonight; there’s not much planned this evening is there, Ash?’
Aisling shook her head.
‘It’s not a catch-up you’re after, it’s a ride,’ Moira said. ‘A gallop around the track with your stallion,’ she added lewdly.
‘Moira O’Mara, have you forgotten your mammy is standing right here.’
Silence fell as a thought occurred to all three sisters simultaneously. Their eyes swung to their mammy. Could she be...? Nooo! they silently screamed. That would be wrong on so many counts. Moira decided to change the subject, still not allowing Roisin to pass.
‘Mammy, you’re not wearing those out, are you? Sure, you’ve worn the material across the arse so thin I can tell you what colour your knickers are. Wedding boutiques are posh places not geriatric strip joints.’
Maureen glanced down at the yoga pants she’d commandeered off Roisin the last time she’d come to stay. They were her favourites, her trusty go-tos for comfort and ability to bend, stride and lunge. Her eyes darted toward Roisin’s case and she wondered if she’d packed any more. She’d try her luck later. Now though, she had a mouthy daughter to contend with. ‘It’s called common sense, Moira. They’re very easy to whip on and off for trying outfits on, thank you, and your posh wedding shop woman won’t giving a flying fig what any of us are wearing so long as we splash the cash.’
Aisling thought Mammy had a point there. The bridal shop woman, she’d gleaned from her dealings with her over the telephone, was a bit of a fecky brown noser type, she’d get on well with Patrick.
‘And for your information, madam, you couldn’t possibly know what colour my underpants are, because I am wearing the thing.’
Aisling frowned her mind beginning to boggle. ‘What thing?’
‘You know, the thing. The thing you girls all get about with.’
Her three daughters shook their heads with no clue as to what she was on about.
‘The thing, the string thing that goes up your—'
‘Jaysus wept, Mammy, the thong,’ Moira cringed. ‘Too much information!’
Roisin went pale, wondering if there was a reason her mammy had stopped wearing the underpants that came up to her chin.
Aisling, aghast, said, ‘No, Mammy, it’s my day and I don’t want to see your arse every time I step into the changing room. You’re to put some sensible knickers on before we go.’
The bickering carried on all the way up the stairs to the family apartment.
Chapter 10
Madame Mullan with her gleaming blonde chignon and exquisitely cut yellow silk wrap dress was like a golden vision and Aisling had whispered this sentiment to Moira moments after they’d arrived at the Bridal Emporium. They’d received the sort of welcome reserved for royalty or Westlife as they piled boisterously
