Three months later …
‘Okay, now another one with Don and Aisling.’
‘I’m guessing you mean baby Aisling?’
‘Well, I have enough pictures of you and Don,’ Majella hisses at me, thrusting her daughter into Don Shields’s arms. Luckily, she looks nothing like Danny DeVito. She’s the cutest baby on earth, the perfect mix of Majella and Pablo, who’ve taken to parenting like ducks to water, bar one unfortunate incident when Pab got the baby’s ears pierced while Majella was in Strong Stuff having her roots done. Sharon said Maj needed two glasses of prosecco and three Lindors to get over the shock.
Pablo flits around taking pictures and providing back-up soothers as the DJ segues into Counting Crows. My eyes search for John and find him at the bar, already bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. I smile as he mouths the opening lyrics to ‘Mr Jones’. In his element.
‘These pictures will be great at her twenty-first, and you can tell her she was at her own baby shower,’ Sadhbh laughs.
Obviously Majella was suffering from so much FOMO after missing the second half of her legendary shower she insisted on having another one in lieu of a christening, although the Tenerifian relatives have been told that the child has basically been blessed by the Pope himself. Liz Moran did some muttering about limbo, but Majella silenced her with a tirade about preparing second class for communion for three years in a row and losing any bit of faith she might have had.
‘John doesn’t mind not being godfather, does he?’ Majella worries beside me.
‘I don’t think you can call them godfather and godmother if you’re not doing the church thing.’
‘Ah, you know what I mean. I know little Aisling will be in good hands with you and Don watching over her.’ She gets distracted by a man at the bar. ‘Ais, who is that guy? I swear I know his face but can’t place him.’
‘Oh, that’s Davey, but I think you know him better as Dr Alan Grant.’ I hum the Jurassic Park music into her ear and she squeals.
‘Oh my God! What an icon. I have to buy him a drink.’
She shimmies off in the same black tuxedo dress she wore to the original shower. It’s a little oversized on her now, but her boobs are still magnificent, which she’s thrilled with, and the dress is great for feeding access.
I wave as Mammy and Dr Trevor arrive, and then repeat ‘Trevor, Trevor, Trevor’ over and over again in my mind. I have to stop calling him Dr Trevor or Cara and Síomha will be sniggering at me for the next twenty years. ShayMar Eco Farm and Yurt Resort officially went on the market last week, with an auction due in the spring sometime. Mammy was relieved I came to the decision to let it go. And John was right, she did kind of know. She said she wants to help us out with the deposit for the cottage, so we’ll be able to keep an eye on the forget-me-nots, roses, peonies and about twelve other perennials we planted on September eighteenth for many more September eighteenths to come. By next summer we’ll be giving Diarmuid Gavin a run for his money. Trevor’s house in Kerry is for sale too, and is expected to go quickly, given its proximity to Killarney. John, Mammy and I are going down there on St Stephenses Day for a couple of nights, after one last Christmas on the farm. I’m dreading lighting a candle for Daddy at home for the last time, but we’ll light one in the cottage too, so he knows where to find us. It’s only over the road. Our new home.
I jump as the shock of something freezing cold touches my arm. ‘Sorry,’ John says, handing me the icy West Coast Cooler, still singing ‘Mr Jones’. ‘I wanna be just about as happy as I can be –’ He kisses my cheek. ‘You looked away with the fairies.’
‘Do you think Pablo has slept since August?’
‘I doubt it. He stays awake to watch the baby sleep, but then is afraid to sleep when she’s awake in case he misses something.’
‘He’s a medical marvel, I’ve decided,’ Majella interjects. ‘Another amazing party, Ais. You should do this for a living.’ She nudges me. ‘I can’t wait to pay you back, though. Since she’s making such a song and dance about it, I’ll allow Mandy Blumenthal to do the wedding, but the hen party is going to be all me. It’s going to be out of this world.’
‘Ah, Maj, there’s no need for fuss.’
I spin the Pandora ring around my finger, like a little comfort charm. John tried to insist, but I don’t want a new ring. This one is perfect. It has a story behind it.
Maj stares at me in mock disgust. ‘No fuss? Are you joking me? All the times you’ve pulled it out of the bag and out of your hole for me and all the girls. We’re going to Vegas and Ibiza and Carrick-on-Shannon. You deserve it.’
She scurries off as baby Aisling starts to whimper, already undoing the top button of her dress.
John slings his arm over my shoulder just as the music slows down. He turns to me in delight. ‘Our song!’ and starts humming along to ‘First Day of My Life’. Something tells me he’s been in cahoots with the DJ.
Pablo appears in front of us and demands that we ‘smile for the camera!’ He takes a picture of a generic John, with his brown eyes, hint of a beard and big hands, and beside him, with her natural kink and flushed cheeks, a complete Aisling.