‘What’s the story with those two? They look like they’ve seen a ghost.’ Dee pauses from blowing up a gold balloon to nod over at Cara and Síomha, who are hanging tinsel curtains around the perimeter of the room, giving it a slight Studio 54 vibe. Majella will be thrilled. The ballroom has been halved in size with a big accordion divider, and if the majority of the fiftyish-strong guest list arrive, we’ll be packed. ‘Are they raging to be here?’
I feel sorry for the girls after the trauma with That Bloody Cat. They were like two children with Mammy looking after them, and they asked her questions about Tiger all the way in the car. Mammy was thrilled to tell stories about the cat’s escapades, and I was thrilled to see them being nice to her.
‘No, they’re grand. They just got a fright earlier. On the road. They’re grand.’ No need to be spreading the story about them reversing over the cat in a room full of strangers. I check the time on my phone. ‘Only ten minutes until people start arriving. Pump like your lives depend on it!’
I have Majella scheduled to arrive half an hour after everyone else so she can walk in to a hero’s welcome, and as the time ticks closer to her grand entrance the room fills up nicely. Sadhbh, Elaine and Ruby arrive together and cause a mini riot when they reveal the buggy they’re pushing isn’t a present for Majella – it’s a cat chariot for Marsha. At one stage, I catch Mammy’s eye and burst out laughing. Rocky arrives in a jumpsuit she crocheted herself, and the barman drops two pints staring at her. Tessie Daly and some of the older ladies set up camp at one of the tables and order five bottles of wine straight off the bat. I see them hoarding some of the fake dollars too. They must be gagging for the stripper.
Niamh from Across the Road arrives with Úna Hatton in tow and cradling a tiny bump of her own. Rumour has it her boyfriend is a distant Trump cousin, which is probably why we haven’t heard her mother boasting about it. I find myself staring at her and feeling a little bitter that she’s managed to get even that over on me. Then Rocky shows me some earrings she’s made out of baby booties and I catch a hold of myself and congratulate Niamh, who’s terrorising a waitress about every single ingredient inside the tiny sandwiches. Majella’s aunties and cousins and our neighbours are all getting stuck in to the finger food while Aubrey sucks her prosecco through a willy straw, looking thoroughly confused, and Hannah talks the ins and outs of brow lamination with Sharon. One of Majella’s cousin’s has brought her baby, which would be against the ‘no children’ rule, but she’s breastfeeding so she gets a pass. I’ve already seen most of the guests getting a go of the baby. She seems like a very agreeable little thing, which is lucky because she looks a little bit like Danny DeVito. Right on the dot of half three, I get a text from Liz Moran telling me they’re outside.
‘Queen Maj is on her way in! Everyone on your feet!’ Dee is on the tunes until the DJ arrives at seven, and I gesture at her to press play on ‘Baby Love’ on the laptop that’s hooked up to the sound system. We scream and cheer as Maj makes her entrance in the tuxedo dress, which is now so short that if she was crowning we’d be able to see the baby’s hair colour. We’re so loud that she stops suddenly, a look of panic flashes across her face. But after a split second she screeches again, ‘Jesus, I thought I was going into labour there.’ Sinéad McGrath is flat out taking videos like a paparazzo to send back to Pablo’s relatives in Tenerife, and I can tell by Majella’s face that she is living for the attention. She makes her way over to me and engulfs me in a hug. ‘It’s perfect, bird. The chocolate willies and all. Perfect.’
Everyone sits and eats and gets their drinks orders in for the first half an hour or so. I’m delighted to be able to chat to Maj and the girls before we get into the games and the main event: Dr Grant himself. Hannah has made sure he has the right colour blue shirt and everything. She’s even made a ‘Jurassic Cock’ visitor’s badge for him.
‘How are Cruella and Drizella?’ Majella asks, nodding at Cara and Síomha, who are smiling politely as Úna Hatton recites one of her poems.
‘Oh, Maj, something awful happened earlier. They reversed over That Bloody Cat and killed it.’
Majella stops chewing mid vagina cupcake. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘They were in bits over it. I actually felt sorry for them. Mammy was so nice to them. And they’ve actually been nicer since it happened. That’s what it feels like anyway.’
‘Maybe they needed to feed their bloodlust – they did a podcast episode about a guy who needed to do that, actually.’
‘I thought you were quitting Blood and Bordeaux?’
‘It’s too addictive, Aisling, I can’t. I’m sorry. I know they’re your mortal enemies.’
‘I don’t know if they are any more. I saw a more human side to them today. And I’m probably a bit too grown to be fighting with my mother’s boyfriend’s children. As long as Mammy’s happy, I should be happy for her.’
Majella nods, finishing off her cupcake with its startlingly realistic buttercream pubic hair. Carol Boland didn’t even blink when I asked her to make two dozen. They’re going down a storm. Sumira Singh and Constance Swinford are tucking into one each across the room right this second.
‘Speaking of being grown up, Ais, have you thought any more about the farm?’
‘Ah, I have and I haven’t. I feel sort of at stalemate. My pros and cons lists are dead equal, and I cannot decide which to go with.’
‘For what it’s worth, I think you’d be wasted selling cabbage and shovelling sheep shite. You’re so good at event architecting, or whatever you call it. Farming’s such a hard life. I think you’re mad, I do. Remember your dad didn’t take a day off in thirty years? He missed our fourth-year musical because a bullock got out.’ Maj was the Artful Dodger. She kept the accent for months.
‘I know. Farming is a vocation, but I just feel like we can’t sell it. What if Daddy is turning in his grave?’
‘Bird, I’m not being a bitch here, but that isn’t true and you know it. Seamus was a sound head. He’d want her to be happy. Marian has years left in her.’
Deep down, I know she’s right. ‘The thoughts of somebody else running it, though. Paul says he doesn’t really care, but it’s easy for him. I don’t think he has any intention of coming back home. Not for a long time anyway.’
‘So let her sell it, bird. Let her live her life. Unless … are you worried about her? And Doctor Love?’
‘I’ve asked you to stop calling him that. Please, Maj.’
‘Sorry.’
‘But, yeah, I think that’s part of it. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea to put all her eggs into his basket, if you know what I mean. Then she’ll be tied to him.’
‘After selling the farm, she’ll be independent. She can have her own basket. And, look, your mother’s no lovesick teenager. She’ll probably have a prenup like Kim Kardashian.’
‘It’s our home, though, Majella. I’ve lived there all my life. I just always thought it would be there.’
‘It’s just a house and some sheds …’
‘And sixty acres. And all my childhood memories. And … and … and … Daddy.’ As soon as I say it the lump forms in my throat. I’ve already said goodbye to him once – this would be like doing it all over again.
‘That’s why we have graves, Ais,’ Majella says gently. ‘You can visit him there. And your memories are already in your head. You don’t need to be in the house to remember your dad.’
‘I suppose I’m just struggling with the idea that I won’t have a home any more.’
‘But, like, what’s home? Really, when you think about it? My family home burnt down and, look, here I am, not a bother.’
She’s right, it did. Three years ago, an inferno caused by a build-up of lint in the tumble dryer. Liz Moran’s greatest shame. ‘That’s different. Your dad was able to rebuild it. It’s still there.’
‘It’s not the same, though – it’s all open-plan now. And anyway, it’s not really my home any more. It’s Liz and Shem and Shane’s.’ She places a hand on her bump. ‘My home is the apartment with Pablo. And with this little fecker soon. Is your home not wherever John is? Wherever you are?’
I think about our plan to plant the tree. ‘It is, I suppose.’
We’ve made it so nice and so cosy. My heart sings every time I open the front door and walk in after the drive down in the evening. More often than not, John is at the Aga whipping up dinner and dancing around to Bon Jovi with a tea towel over his shoulder. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted. ‘But we don’t own it or anything.’
‘What does that have to do with anything? Plenty of people in this country don’t own their home and never will. Pablo says Irish people get too bogged down in owning land. On the continent people rent all their lives – it doesn’t stop them having a home. His abuelo on his father’s side was a nomad. Mardonium, meaning warrior. I gave it a hard pass before it was even out of his mouth.’
‘Imagine having a Mardonium starting in Junior Infants. You made the right choice.’
‘I know. Mardonium Moran.’ She flashes me a look, probably to see if I object. ‘The child is taking my surname, obviously.’
‘Oh, obviously.’ I couldn’t care less what the child is called as long as it’s healthy and happy and not called Mardonium. ‘Thanks for the advice, Maj. You’re very wise, you know?’
****
We split into teams for ‘Guess the Babby with the Booty’, and Sumira Singh turns out to be surprisingly good at figuring out whose baby picture has been photoshopped onto the body of an exotic dancer. Constance Swinford was a very handsome infant – we all say it. Majella allows a poll on whether it’s a boy or a girl, even though she swears Pablo’s spidey superstitious senses will be tingling. It results in a dead heat, and we make the barman cast the deciding vote. He goes for boy, but the poor divil has started to look very shook. It’s not even five o’clock and the dance-floor is already in use. He definitely didn’t come in for his shift working a baby shower and expect to see this much twerking before dinner time.
‘Drink, Ais?’ Sadhbh is heading for the bar after a therapeutic cry in the toilets with me, Elaine and Ruby. She keeps swinging wildly between acceptance and denial about her break-up with Don. To be honest, none of us can believe it, but we have to be good friends and tell her she’s a ride and a catch and will find someone even better than Don when she’s good and ready.
‘Do you think there’s anyone better than Don?’ Elaine whispers as we leave the bathroom.
‘God, no, although losing his shit over the baby thing has lost him a few points.’ Ruby, matter of fact as always.
I refuse the offer of a sandwich, just waiting to get the stripper out of the way before I relax completely. I check with Hannah that he’s on his way and then start gathering up bundles of dollar bills for the poor craythur. I hope he knows what he’s in for.
I pass Cara and Síomha sitting at a fairly empty table – Mammy, Tessie Daly and Úna Hatton are over at the cake, fighting about the best way to cut it – and smile at them. They’re looking a bit less shook, thank God. Then I double back to them. Might as well be friendly and have a chat. ‘Hiya, girls, mind if I sit down?’
Cara indicates the empty chair beside her and starts talking immediately. ‘Aisling, we just wanted to say again how sorry we are. The poor cat –’
‘Honestly, girls, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourselves up. It could have been me or Mammy that did it. It was just bad luck. Mostly for the cat. C’mere, are you enjoying yourselves?’
‘It’s really lovely,’ Síomha says. ‘Good fun, and surprisingly non-PG?’
‘That’s actually a great way to sum up Majella.’
‘Your friend Niamh is lovely. The one who lives in New York. She has such a glamorous life over there. I can’t believe she knows Bono’s daughters.’
‘Oh, she told you all about that, did she?’ I know for a fact that Niamh from Across the Road met the Bono girls precisely once at a fancy magazine awards event and they couldn’t pick her out of a line-up. Tara was there too, shoehorning them into pictures for her blog, and the closest Niamh got to being friends with them was holding one of their drinks. Still, though, let her have her glory in the ballroom of the Mountrath. She’s in a delicate condition, after all.
‘Is there really a stripper coming?’ Cara looks incredulous. ‘I thought the people in the WhatsApp group were joking.’
‘Oh, he’s definitely coming. Hopefully in about twenty minutes. Here, have some dollars.’
They exchange a look as I stuff the fake bills into their hands. ‘We actually wanted to talk to you about something.’ Cara leans forward. ‘It’s about our dad.’