Helen was cooking a simple pasta dinner with tomatoes, basil and baby courgettes when Ciara walked in. Her long dark hair looked dirty, its heavy black dye giving it a sooty appearance. Her pale face was accentuated by black kohl eyeliner, and despite the warm weather she was wearing black leggings tucked into chunky black biker boots. Her fingernails were painted black, and every finger was covered in silver jewellery.
Helen bit her tongue and said nothing.
Ciara was a good kid and had gone straight to work from college. She was doing extra shifts trying to raise money for an eight-week trip to Thailand in the summer before she started her final year.
‘I wish Amy would get off my case!’ Ciara complained angrily, grabbing a glass of water and sitting down to pick at the bowl of salad on the table. ‘She’s turned into a Bridezilla! I don’t see why I have to go and look at stupid dresses again this Saturday. I’m meant to be working, and Henry says that if I can’t do my normal shift, then I have to do the Sunday plus a late night on Thursday. It’s so unfair. I’m going to miss a big music session in Whale. I’ve helped set it up and I won’t even get to see the band. Why does Amy have to ruin my life?’
‘Why do you two fight so much?’ asked Helen, weary with it all.
‘Because Amy wants me to look like a nerd for her wedding, that’s why. I told her I didn’t want to be a bridesmaid!’ Ciara said. ‘She says that I have to, because I’m her sister. You saw the dresses, Mum. They’re awful. If Amy thinks I’m going to wear a vile pink dress for her wedding she can think again!’
‘Ciara, she’s just trying to find a bridesmaid dress that both of you like. Most brides just choose a dress and tell all their bridesmaids that’s what they have to wear. When your dad and I were at your Cousin Shay’s wedding last July in Cork, the bridesmaids had hideous brown dresses. No way was Joanne, the bride, having other girls upstage her. So you don’t realize how good Amy is to let you and Jess have your pick.’
‘I’m not wearing any of them. They’re not my style.’
‘Is it too much for Amy to ask her only sister to support her on her wedding day?’ Helen said angrily. ‘To tidy herself up and wear a pretty dress for a few hours instead of jeans or leggings and biker boots?’
Ciara refused to answer. Instead she fiddled with her phone, pretending to read a text. Eventually she met her mother’s gaze. ‘Mum, you know how much I hate dressing up and putting on fake tan like all the other girls, and wearing high heels and pretending to be someone that I’m not. Why should I do it just because my sister is getting married?’
‘It is only one day,’ reminded Helen sadly. ‘One special family day! But if it is going against your principles to be nice and kind and supportive of your sister for a single day – then maybe you are right and it is better if you withdraw from being a bridesmaid. Jess is a good friend, and Amy will have her as her bridesmaid, and maybe one of the other girls will step in for you. Amy will be disappointed and very hurt, so you need to think about it, Ciara. You can be a bridesmaid or you can just be a guest like lots of other people at your sister’s wedding. But I am telling you, you will not go to the wedding dressed like you are attending some grunge festival! Do you hear me?’
Ciara stormed out of the kitchen and off upstairs. Her door banged shut and the noise of some God-awful music filled the house.
Helen wondered how two sisters could be so different. The same parents, the same upbringing and education, and yet Amy and Ciara were absolute opposites. No one would think they were related, let alone sisters! They’d sparked off each other ever since they were little, Ronan acting as an easy-going buffer between the two of them. Sometimes she thought that Ciara, instead of trying to copy her big sibling, like most little sisters did, had decided just to be totally different! Helen had grown up with three brothers, and although they were great fun and had always been there for her, she had longed for a sister, dreamed of having one. She envied her women friends who were so connected with theirs. And here were her girls, despite being sisters, totally at odds with each other – over, of all things, a dress!
Poor Barney had been skulking under the kitchen table during the row. He looked up at her, ever hopeful of a walk. She turned off the cooker. She wasn’t hungry now, she’d eat later. She had to get away from the noise upstairs. Helen clipped on the dog’s lead, slipped on her walking shoes and grabbed her keys. An hour’s walk in the fresh air would calm her down and hopefully do them both good.
‘Come on, fellah, let’s get out of here!’ she said.