The next few weeks were great. Some mornings I called for Alice at her dad’s place, and other mornings I picked her up from her mum’s place. At first it seemed a bit weird, but soon it just seemed normal, and it was hard to remember a time when her family had all lived together in one house.
The whole class was getting really excited because our Confirmation was coming up. We did hardly any real work. Most days we went to the church and practised hymns, and stupid stuff like getting in and out of our seats, and walking to the altar in neat lines. At first it was really hard, and people kept ending up in the wrong places, and our teacher, Miss O’Herlihy, kept saying stuff like, ‘What are we going to do when the bishop is here?’ and ‘You’re going to make a holy show of me!’ After a while though, it got so easy we could do it in our sleep, and it was really boring, but as Alice said, anything was better than maths.
At lunchtimes, we mostly talked about what we were going to wear for our Confirmation. Melissa told anyone who would listen that she was going to Arnott’s in Dublin to buy a designer dress and matching high-heeled shoes. Grace was actually flying to London to buy an outfit, but that didn’t seem as bad because she didn’t keep going on and on about it.
I didn’t say much during these conversations. I never, ever have cool clothes. If it was up to Mum, she’d knit me a Confirmation dress, or weave it from twigs and leaves or something. Whenever I mentioned Confirmation clothes to Mum she just said,
‘Stop fussing – it’s ages away. And Confirmation is a religious occasion – it isn’t just about the clothes you know.’
I knew it wasn’t just about the clothes, but it might as well be. If I had to wear something totally gross, Melissa would probably laugh out loud when she saw me, and the whole day would be ruined.
So one Saturday, I got up really early and did loads of jobs before Mum and Dad got up. Then I brought them their breakfast in bed. (I even made porridge to get Mum in a good mood.)
My little sister Rosie was already in Mum and Dad’s bed, all curled up like a baby. Dad laughed when he saw me coming into their room with the cups and bowls rattling on the tray.
‘What’s all this about, Megan?’ he said. ‘I suppose you want something.’
I nodded. No point pretending – Mum and Dad could always see through me anyway.
I took a deep breath.
‘Please, please, please can we go and buy me Confirmation clothes today? Everyone else has theirs already, and if I don’t get something soon everyone’s going to think I’m a total loser.’
Mum sat up in bed so I was able to get a good look at her nightie, which was all faded and about a hundred years old.
‘Don’t be so dramatic, Megan,’ she said, ‘And I’ve told you before, anyone who judges you by your clothes doesn’t deserve to be your friend.’
I sighed.
‘OK,’ I said, ‘Forget the loser thing. But please, Mum, will you take me in to town today to buy new clothes?’
Mum thought for a minute.
‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I was thinking of tidying out the garden shed today. I thought you might help me. You could––’
Dad interrupted her.
‘Go on, Sheila. Put the poor girl out of her misery. I’ll take Rosie to the park, and you two can go shopping.’
As soon as he said this, Rosie popped up her head and said,
‘Yay! We’re going to the park,’ and everyone laughed – especially me.
* * *
An hour later we were in town, and after I’d managed to steer Mum away from the charity shops and the horrible shops that sold grey, hairy, tweedy stuff for grannies, we did OK.
I ended up with really cool white trousers, a blue and white stripy top, and a loose white shirt to wear over it.
On the way back to the car, I was so happy I felt like singing. The impossible had just happened – I was actually going to look normal on my Confirmation day.
Then I had a totally scary thought.
What was Mum going to wear for my big day?
I had to know, but at the same time, I reeeeally didn’t want to know.
This could be a complete disaster.
How would anyone even notice my cool new clothes if Mum was there beside me looking like a weirdo from the dark ages?
‘Er, Mum,’ I said, ‘Are you getting something new to wear for my Confirmation?’
She tossed her crazy hair back from her face, and laughed like I’d just told the funniest joke in the world.
‘What a thought!’ she said. ‘Sure, haven’t I a wardrobe full of clothes at home?’
It was true, she did have a wardrobe full of clothes at home. A wardrobe full of ancient, ugly and totally embarrassing clothes. A wardrobe full of clothes that looked like they belonged in a museum.
While I was still getting over the shock of Mum wearing her old clothes to my Confirmation, she continued,
‘Actually, if I work really hard I could finish the jumper I’ve been knitting for myself. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’
I gasped.
Surely she was joking?
She had to be joking.
Mum had been knitting this jumper for about two years. It was a huge, shapeless thing, made out of odd scraps of wool left over from other ugly knitting projects. It was a disgusting mixture of orange, red, pink, brown, purple and gross, slimy green. It was as if all the horrible jumpers Mum made me wear when I was small had come back to haunt me. If Mum finished this jumper and wore it to my Confirmation, I might as well just give up forever. I might as well go to the ceremony with the word ‘loser’ tattooed in capital letters right across my forehead.
I stopped walking.
‘I know your jumper is going to be beautiful,’ I lied, ‘But why don’t we go and buy you something new. You deserve it.’
Mum smiled.
‘Thanks love, but if I’m getting something new for myself, I’d prefer a new juice extractor, or maybe a nice new pair of gardening gloves. Still though, it’s very kind of you to suggest it. You’re a very thoughtful girl, Megan.’
Then, right in the middle of the street, she turned and hugged me. I wriggled free as soon as I could. It was bad enough being seen in town with my mum. If anyone saw her hugging me, my life was over.
Mum didn’t even notice how embarrassed I was. She just walked on, muttering to herself.
‘Now, if I work hard, I can finish the left sleeve tonight. I can join in some of that lovely yellow wool from that cardigan I made for Rosie last year, and maybe some of the brown too.’
I felt like throwing myself onto the footpath and crying my eyes out.
I was doomed.
It would take a miracle to get my mum into some decent clothes.
* * *
A few days later, the miracle happened.
Dad came home from work waving an envelope over his head. He actually skipped into the kitchen. I’d have been embarrassed if I wasn’t laughing so much.
‘I won a prize in the office raffle,’ he said. ‘It’s the first time I’ve won in twenty years.’
Mum ran over and tried to grab the envelope from him. (She loves getting stuff for nothing.)
‘What is it, Donal?’ she said. ‘What did you win? Is it the voucher for the pellet stove? Or the gardening weekend? I’d just love to go on a gardening weekend.’
Dad shook his head.
‘Sorry, love. It isn’t any of those. It’s a voucher for a clothes shop.’
He opened the envelope and read,
‘O’Donnell’s on Catherine Street. Two hundred and fifty euro. Not bad, eh?’
Mum sighed. ‘Two hundred and fifty euro on clothes. That’s an obscene amount. I wouldn’t spend that in twenty years.’
She was right. Most of the clothes Mum wore cost fifty cent in the charity shop bargain bin. When she got married she borrowed her wedding dress from a friend of her granny’s. Why couldn’t she be more like Alice’s mum, Veronica, who could spend two hundred and fifty euro on clothes in her coffee break?
I leaned over Dad’s shoulder and looked at the voucher. I didn’t dare to touch it – it was much too precious for that.
‘Look,’ I said to Mum, ‘You have to spend it within three months. So you might as well … buy something new for my Confirmation.’
Mum sighed.
‘But what about my jumper? I only have half a sleeve left to knit, and I have some really nice colours I want to add in. There’s a gorgeous purple I want to use.’
Dad saw the look of horror on my face. He winked at me, and patted Mum’s arm.
‘You know what the church is like on Confirmation day, Sheila. It’s always crowded, and it’ll be far too warm for you to wear your jumper. Why don’t you save it for Christmas? Meg is right. Use the voucher and buy something new.’
Mum nodded slowly.
‘I suppose you’re right. And it would be a sin to waste your prize.’
I raced over and hugged Dad until he begged for mercy.
* * *
So next day, Mum, Rosie and I went to O’Donnell’s to buy the new outfit. The lady in there was really nice, and helped us pick out a lovely pale green dress and jacket. When Mum came out of the changing room, Rosie stared at her, and rubbed the dress and said,
‘You look pretty, Mummy!’
Mum gave a kind of shy smile, and for once in her life she really did look pretty.
The only bad moment was when the lady said that once Mum’s hair was blow-dried she’d look perfect, and that we all had bad hair days, didn’t we? Mum went as red as the hem of her almost finished jumper. I knew why. The lady was trying to be kind, but how could she know that Mum’s hair was always like this – all scraggy and wiry like the scourer we use for washing really dirty pots? How could she know that Mum hadn’t had her hair blow-dried since she was about fifteen?
The lady looked at Mum’s red face, and realised her mistake. She leaned over and pulled a beautiful floaty scarf from a display. She swirled it around Mum’s neck.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘Let’s throw this in as a little extra – a present from us. It finishes off the outfit just perfectly.’
Mum smiled at her, and went to change back into her dungarees.
A few minutes later, she handed over the voucher, and I dragged her home before she could change her mind.
That night, for the first time ever, I dreamed that I came from a normal family.