Authors: Sinéad Moriarty
‘Wow, you don’t look tired at all.’ I beamed at her.
‘Crème de la Mer and good genes,’ she lied.
‘Speaking of cakes, do any of you know Le Beau Gâteau?’
Victoria’s eyes widened. It was almost imperceptible, but I noticed. Emily froze. Only Carol answered: ‘No – is it good?’
‘It’s amazing. You know it, don’t you, Victoria?’ I stared at her. She looked away. ‘They do cakes almost identical to yours. Isn’t that strange? In fact, if I didn’t know you’d been up all night slaving away, I’d actually wonder if your cake wasn’t the one I saw in Le Beau Gâteau yesterday.’
Victoria’s face went bright red, although I’m not sure if it was from shame or rage. She sneered at me: ‘I would think that someone who turned up to a cake sale with a cheap, nasty cake would refrain from commenting on anyone else’s.’ She turned on her fabulous heels and walked off, with Heidi at her shoulder.
Emily grabbed my arm. ‘I can’t believe you did that!’ she gasped. ‘Why would you antagonize her?’
I shrugged. ‘Because she’s full of shit and a complete phoney.’
‘But, Julie, don’t you get it? If Victoria hates you, she’ll turn everyone else against you.’
‘Come on, Emily – what are we? Twelve? I’m a forty-four-year-old mother of four boys. I’m not going to be intimidated by some fake idiot.’
‘Well, I just want to get on with everyone. I don’t need any hassle in my life. I want to arrive into the playground and not feel any tension.’ Emily walked away from me and went to where all the other mothers had gathered around Victoria and her cake.
She was obviously telling them what a bitch I was. I heard an audible gasp and they all turned to stare at me. My bravado vanished. It
was
like being twelve again: I was the class outsider, the loser, the one no one wanted to be friends with.
All my life I’d had lots of friends and never had a problem getting on with people. I was considered easy-going and friendly. But now I was an outcast and it did not feel good. It felt very lonely.
T
wo long hours later
, the cake sale was over. I ended up buying my own cake because no one else wanted it. As I was tidying my table, I heard Victoria inviting the other six mums back to her house for coffee. She didn’t ask me. I was embarrassed in front of the others. I finished cleaning up, then sprinted out of the hall, back to the safety of my car, and drove away from the tense, uncomfortable environment. I was now officially a pariah among these women.
I went home and poured myself a large glass of wine. It was only midday, but I needed it badly. I knocked it back and felt the alcohol calm me down. Then I decided to call Marian. ‘Are you busy?’
‘I’ve just made two sales so I’m due a coffee break. You sound stressed. What’s up?’
I poured myself another half-glass of wine, settled down on the couch and filled Marian in on the morning’s events. ‘The really stupid thing is that I mind. I didn’t think I’d care about those empty-headed women blanking me, but it was embarrassing and I was upset.’
‘That Victoria needs a good slap. The lying bitch. As for Emily, she’s just weak and wants an easy life. I hate people who sit on the fence. Pick a side and get on with it. Don’t sit there trying to please everyone – it’s the coward’s way. Seriously, Julie, don’t waste your energy on these people. They’re pathetic.’
‘I know, but I’m probably going to have to deal with them for the next ten years. Their boys are in the triplets’ class. I may have just shot myself in the foot.’
‘You can’t please everyone and you don’t want to be friends with those witches anyway. They’re a pack of privileged, shallow losers. If it makes you feel better, most of the mothers in my kids’ school think I’m certifiable. They dive into bushes when they see me coming. Molly had a playdate over the other day, some drippy kid called Rebecca. She was one of those kids who kept saying she was thirsty and hungry and bored, and that Molly’s toys were crap. I could see she was making Molly feel bad. So, eventually I lost it. “Rebecca,” I said, “the only reason you’re here is to entertain Molly and make my life easier. So shut your moany trap, get out of my face and start playing with my daughter.”’
I burst out laughing. ‘What did she say?’
‘Nothing. She didn’t open her mouth for the next hour until her mother came to pick her up. So obviously she told her mother about our little chat and the mother rang me.’
‘Oh, no, what happened?’ I picked up my wine glass.
‘She said her daughter was traumatized and that I was a terrible mother. She told me that Rebecca would never darken my door again. So I said, “I never want your pain-in-the-arse kid in my house again anyway, so you’ll be doing me a favour.”’
‘Oh, my God, Marian! You
are
certifiable.’
‘I’m just honest and I speak my mind – and you know what, Julie? If people don’t like it, they can shag off. I’m too old to walk on eggshells. If Molly was behaving badly in someone’s house and the mother gave out to her, I’d have no problem with it. People are so bloody precious about their kids. It’s ridiculous.’
She had a point. Parents had become very over-protective of their children.
Marian was on a roll now. ‘I was ten when my dad walked out and my mother had a nervous breakdown. I shopped, cooked, cleaned and raised my brother alone. I didn’t have playdates because my mother didn’t know what day it was. There’s all this bullshit nowadays about talking softly to your kids when they’re behaving like brats. If I didn’t shout, my kids would never put their shoes on, get dressed or do anything.’
‘I agree. The boys only ever listen when I shout.’ I took a sip of my wine. Thank God for Marian. I could already feel my shoulders dropping down from my ears as the tension of the day began to loosen.
‘I’m sick of these psychologists making us mothers feel guilty. We’re all just trying to get through the day without killing our kids. As for positive affirmation, what does that even mean?’
‘It’s saying things like “I know you can learn this poem because you’re a fast learner.”’
‘Bullshit. Brian had to learn a six-line poem last night. I swear to you, Julie, I nearly hit him. He wriggled around in the chair, messing and refusing to concentrate for an hour. We went over it and over it. The whole bloody family knew the shagging poem – even Ben could recite it – but not Brian, because he wouldn’t even try. So eventually I lost it. I ripped the poem out of the book and Sellotaped it to his forehead.’
‘I might need to try that. Can you imagine what it’s like getting three nine-year-olds to learn a poem at the same time?’
‘I always say it, you’re a saint. I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Actually, now that we have all this extra space in the new house, I’ve divided and conquered. They all do their homework in different rooms. It works so much better. It’s still a total nightmare getting them to finish it, especially Liam, who has the concentration span of a gnat, but it’s much easier than having them all at the same table, fighting and winding each other up.’
‘Who says money can’t buy you happiness?’ Marian laughed.
‘Apart from homework, any news?’ I asked. ‘How’s Greg?’
‘Who cares? He told me last night he’s not coming home next week. He’s too busy, apparently. It’ll be another three weeks. The kids are devastated. Anyway, forget about Greg. I’ve been very distracted by something else.’
‘By what?’
Marian lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘My Polish roof guy, Lew.’
‘Define “distracted”.’
‘I’m in lust. He’s so hot. I swear my hormones are all over the place. Maybe I’m getting early menopause, but I’m dreaming about sex with this guy all the time. We get on really well, even though his English isn’t great. I think he was flirting with me yesterday.’
I was a bit worried. Marian and Greg had always had a tumultuous relationship, but they made it work. But just as they were coming out of the nappy stage with their kids, getting their life back and arguing less, Greg had lost his job and had had to go to Dubai. His being away so much had definitely put a strain on their relationship.
‘Marian,’ I said, in my hang-on-a-minute-here voice.
‘Don’t start lecturing me. You’re the only person I can talk to.’
‘I know how hard it is, with Greg away so much, but don’t do anything silly because you’re angry with him.’
‘So far it’s just flirting, but I haven’t felt this horny since college. Lew is so sexy.’
‘How old is he?’
‘About thirty, I’d say. He had his top off yesterday and I swear he has a better body than David Beckham. I almost swooned.’
This was not good. I’d never heard Marian talk about a man like that and she was very impulsive. I’d need to keep an eye on her. ‘How much longer will he be there? Is the roof nearly fixed?’
‘Yes, but I have a few other things I need attended to around the house.’ Marian snorted down the phone.
‘You can look, but don’t touch,’ I warned her.
‘I’ll try. Anyway, I have to go now and put on some lipstick. It’s time for his lunch break.’ She was laughing as she hung up.
A
t work
the next day I got landed with a last-minute conference call and couldn’t collect Clara from school. Christelle was in Paris for two days, and Mum was out, so I rang Dad. He agreed to collect Clara and take her home for her violin lesson.
As soon as the conference call ended, two hours later, I rushed home. When I walked into the apartment, Dad was sitting on the couch, snoring, as Clara read to him from her bird book.
When she saw me, she got up and ran over. I gave her a hug and a kiss. ‘I see Granddad’s having a sleepy,’ I said.
‘Is he?’ She was surprised. ‘I didn’t know.’
I went over. ‘Dad!’ I said loudly.
He sat bolt upright. ‘What the hell?’
‘Did you have a good snooze?’
He smoothed back his hair. ‘I wasn’t asleep. I was only resting my eyes.’
‘You were snoring.’
‘I was not.’ He looked affronted. ‘I was listening to Clara reading about the birds over and over again. By God, she’s very fond of that book.’
‘It’s her favourite.’ I smiled. ‘How did her violin lesson go?’
Dad stood up and stretched his back. ‘Lookit, I know you’re very keen for her to do lots of things but, to be honest, Louise, it was like listening to a cat being tortured.’
‘Dad!’ I glanced over to see if Clara was listening, but she was immersed in her book.
‘She’s no Yehudi whatshisname.’
‘Yehudi Menuhin. She’s four and a half, Dad. Menuhin began playing at four and I’m sure he wasn’t perfect after a few lessons either.’
‘Well, according to the teacher, she’s doing really well, much better than last week. God only knows what last week sounded like. Would you not let the poor child go to the park and run about?’
‘Learning the violin is known to improve children’s co-ordination skills, develop their brains and give them confidence. Clara can be a bit clumsy and she’s shy, so the violin will help with that.’
Dad shook his head. ‘I’ve no doubt you’ve researched it all. I’m just saying that children need a balance.’
‘They actually don’t. I hated those Irish-dancing classes you sent me to and the sports camps in the summer. I’d much rather have been at home reading. I’m going to encourage Clara in what she’s good at. I’m not going to waste her time with pointless activities.’
Dad put his hands in the air. ‘I wish I’d known how miserable you were. I could have saved myself a fortune on all those lessons and camps. I’m sorry to hear you had such a traumatic childhood. You should report your parents for abuse.’ He grinned.
‘Thankfully, I managed to turn out well despite it all.’
‘That’s debatable,’ Dad said, giving me a wink.
I punched his arm playfully. ‘You know I’m the sanest of your children.’
‘You’re certainly saner than your brother. Your mother called into the shop he’s working in today while I was here. I missed ten calls from her because the violin was so loud I couldn’t hear my phone. And then I got this message.’ Dad took out his phone and showed me:
Gavin has LOST his mind. I’m devastated. Where in God’s name are u???
This was not good. I’d have to call her and try to calm her down.
‘She’s on her way over,’ Dad said.
‘Now?’ I began to panic. I really didn’t want Mum storming into my apartment, hysterical. It would upset Clara. As I was thinking of a way to stop her, there was a pounding on the door.
‘Open up!’ It was Mum. Dad and I glanced at each other, then at Clara, whose eyes were wide with fright. I went over to her and gently persuaded her to go into her bedroom and read in there.
Dad opened the door and Mum came storming in, dragging Gavin behind her. He was wearing Mum’s lilac golf jumper, which was far too small for him.
‘Nice jumper.’ Dad chuckled.
Gavin flopped down in a chair, arms folded, clearly furious.
‘Never in all my life! Never! I’m telling you, George, never.’ Mum was beside herself. I went to her and led her to the couch. She was shaking her head and muttering under her breath. I poured her a large glass of wine and sat down beside Gavin.
‘What happened?’ I whispered to him.
‘She made a complete show of me. I’ll never live this down.’
‘You two can stop whispering,’ Mum said. ‘I hold you responsible, by the way.’ She pointed at me.
‘How is it my fault?’
‘Because you knew and you never told me.’
‘I’ll have a glass of wine too, please,’ Dad said. ‘I think I’ll need it.’
‘I’m mortified,’ Mum said, getting emotional. ‘I’ll never be able to show my face in the golf club again. You’ve really done it this time, Gavin.’
‘For the love of God, woman, tell me what happened.’ Dad was getting exasperated.
Mum pointed over at Gavin. ‘I decided to surprise him with a visit, to see where he worked and show my support.’ She paused and had a large gulp of wine. ‘So I went into the Stripes and Stars shop. It looked very fancy from the outside, but when I got closer, I realized that there were men with no tops on standing outside. Like strippers they were!’
If only she had told me she was going to surprise him, I could have stopped her.
‘I presumed they were just low-life boys hanging about with no feel for the cold. But then they said, “Welcome to Stripes and Stars”!’
‘It’s Stars and Stripes.’ Gavin groaned.
‘Gavin!’ Mum slammed her glass down on the coffee-table. ‘The name of the shop is really not the issue here.’
‘Let her tell the story,’ I said to Gavin. Mum clearly needed to get this off her chest.
‘“Where are your shirts?” I asked the boys. “We don’t wear shirts,” they told me. “Why not?” I asked. “Company policy,” they said. So I told them I wanted to speak to whoever was in charge immediately. They told me to go inside and ask for the manager.’
‘Company policy to wear no shirts?’ Even Dad, who was rarely fazed, was taken aback. ‘Nonsense. It’s nine degrees outside. Were they not frozen?’
‘Of course they were. One fellow’s lips were nearly blue, and sure you could see goose-bumps all over his body,’ Mum told him. ‘And his false tan was all streaked. He looked ridiculous.’
Gavin rolled his eyes.
‘Anyway, I went into the shop to find Gavin, but the lights were out. I was stumbling around in the pitch dark and I saw people shopping! They must be desperate, I thought. They’re buying things and they can’t even see what colour they are. Sure you couldn’t tell black from green. So I bumped into a girl who said she worked there and I told her to call the ESB and get a man out to fix the lights.’
I stifled a giggle. The idea of Mum lurching around Stars and Stripes telling them to get their electricity fixed was too funny.
‘She told me it was normal! Normal? She said that was the way the shop was always lit. “But it’s not lit at all,” I pointed out. She just shrugged and said that was the way it was. So I asked her if she knew Gavin and she said he was up at the till.’
‘Did she lend you a torch?’ Dad asked, and I started to laugh. Gavin was looking thunderous.
Mum glared at us. ‘I finally made it up to the counter, knocking into people and clothes in the dark, and I peered up, but I couldn’t see Gavin. So I called out his name and saw a man duck.’
Oh, God. I’d say Gavin nearly had a heart attack.
‘I peered over the counter and there was our son, crouched on the floor. “Hello, Gavin,” I said. So he stood up, and I could see, even though it was almost pitch dark, that he was going red in the face. And I could see why. Because he was NAKED! Naked, George! Our son was naked! What kind of a place hires men to work with no clothes on?’ Mum wagged a finger at Gavin. ‘A place of ill-repute, that’s what.’
‘Jesus, Mum, I wasn’t naked, I had jeans on and shoes and socks and a watch.’
‘You were doing well until the watch.’ Dad chuckled.
‘It’s actually a very successful company,’ I said. I wanted Mum to stop freaking out.
Mum swung around to face me. ‘No son of mine is going to work in a company that gets its staff to work with no clothes on.’
‘He did have clothes on, just not a lot of them apparently,’ Dad said.
‘She caused a huge scene. I’ll probably get fired and I really liked working there,’ Gavin grumbled.
‘I don’t want to hear one word out of you. You’ve humiliated me and made a fool of yourself.’ Mum took another glug of her wine. ‘Why can’t you just get a normal job? Why can’t you work in the bank, like your cousin Victor? He’s never caused his mother a day’s worry. I’ve had it, Gavin. No more. This is the last straw.’
‘What did you do when you saw him?’ I asked.
Gavin punched the side of the chair in exasperation. ‘She freaked out and started roaring and shouting, and then she dragged me out of the shop hitting me over the head with her handbag.’
‘Did your boss see?’ I was really hoping his boss hadn’t witnessed the drama.
Gavin shook his head. ‘Thankfully he’s in LA at the annual conference. He left me and another guy in charge of the store.’
‘It shows he trusts you even though you’ve only worked there six weeks. That’s a good sign,’ I said.
Gavin glared at Mum. ‘Yeah, until Psycho here ruined everything, I was doing really well. I’m totally into the company. I actually suggested a few changes to the layout of the shop three weeks ago and sales are up ten per cent. They love me in there.’
‘Good for you.’ It was great to see Gavin being enthusiastic about work and doing well.
‘
Good for you?
What in God’s name are you talking about? It’s obviously a cover for a strip joint or a brothel!’ Mum shouted.
I put my hand up to stop her. ‘Sssh, you’ll frighten Clara. Mum, you need to calm down.’
‘Don’t tell me to calm down,’ she hissed. ‘Just you wait until you find Clara working topless in a shop and see how calm you are.’
Dad perked up. ‘Do the girls have no shirts on either?’
‘Of course they do.’ Gavin was getting frustrated. ‘They wear vest tops. It’s not Hooters!’
‘I’m so ashamed.’ Mum’s voice shook. ‘After all that education, this is where you end up.’
It was time for me to step in. ‘Mum,’ I said firmly, ‘I want you to listen to me. Stars and Stripes is one of the most successful clothing firms in the US at the moment. Last year they had sales revenues of 3.72 billion dollars. It’s not a cover for a brothel. I looked into the company before Gavin started working there. It’s a very successful business selling good-quality casual wear to kids and students. When they opened their first store in LA they hired the best-looking models they could find to work there so that people would talk about the store. It was very effective and it’s become an integral part of their brand. They only hire good-looking people and they get the guys on the shop floor to take off their tops. It’s a gimmick, but it gets people in the door.’
‘When you’re promoted to manager, do you get to keep your top on?’ Dad asked.
‘Totally,’ Gavin said, trying to pull the lilac jumper down over his stomach. ‘Once you get to assistant manager you wear a shirt. I’ve been fast-tracked for the assistant manager job because they’ve been impressed by me. I’m due to have a six-week review on Monday, but after the scene Mum caused, I’d say I’ll be fired. Thanks a lot, by the way.’ He glowered at her.
‘I don’t care what sales figures they have. A company that exploits its employees like that is no better than a sweat shop in Bangladesh.’
Gavin stood up, the jumper exposing half of his stomach. He waved his hands in the air. ‘For God’s sake, no one’s being exploited. The dudes who work there love having their tops off. They want to show off their six-packs. There’s a waiting list of three hundred people who want to work in the Dublin shop. It’s the coolest company around. The staff have great fun together, the opportunities to do well are really good. I was happy there, Mum, until you ruined it.’
I saw Mum poke Dad’s arm. He cleared his throat. ‘Well, now, Gavin, there’s no need to snap at your mother. She has your best interests at heart.’
‘Yes, I do, and I still say it’s no place for a well-educated boy to work.’ Mum folded her arms defensively.
I stepped in. ‘Mum, I promise you, it’s a legitimate company. It does seem to treat its staff well and the management programme is a good one.’
I felt a tug on my jacket. ‘Mummy, is the shouting over? It’s hurting my ears.’
I bent down and scooped Clara into my arms. She snuggled into my shoulder. Looking at Mum, I said, ‘Yes, pet, the shouting’s over now. We’re all going to have a snack and talk about birds.’
‘Sorry, sweetheart, Granny just got a bit of a shock.’ Mum kissed Clara’s cheek.
‘I’ll take my leave,’ Dad said, standing up. ‘Clara’s taught me enough about birds for one day. The only birds I want to see are the ones who work in Hooters.’ Roaring with laughter at his own joke, Dad left the apartment. Mum glugged the last of her wine, shot a glare at me and Gavin and followed him. Gavin gazed at me with something like despair. I shrugged. I’d done all I could. He sighed, then followed Mum and Dad to the car, with an evening of dramatics and lectures in front of him.
Clara sat in the bath, looking at her fingers. She was listing all the passerine birds found in Ireland that we had discovered listed on Wikipedia: ‘… larks, swallows and martins, wagtails and pipits, kinglets, waxwings, dippers, wrens, mockingbirds and thrashers, thrushes and allies, cisticolas and allies, buntings and New World sparrows, cardinals and allies, troupials and allies, finches and sparrows.’
I clapped. She truly was amazing. ‘That’s incredible, sweetheart, I can’t believe you memorized all of them. You’re a little genius.’
The doorbell rang. It would be Sophie, dropping off Jess. I was babysitting her for a couple of hours while Sophie went to a work event. I pulled the towel off the radiator and went over to take Clara out of the bath.
‘NO!’ she shouted. ‘The clock doesn’t say fifteen.’
I looked at the digital clock. She’d been in the bath thirteen minutes. I knew if I tried to take her out before it said fifteen she’d have a meltdown that would go on for ages. I rang Sophie.
‘I’m outside with Jess,’ she said.
‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ I didn’t want to explain that Clara had to be in the bath for exactly fifteen minutes: Sophie would think it was over the top and I didn’t want to get into a whole discussion about it.