Whose Life is it Anyway? (9 page)

‘OK. Thanks, Mum.’

‘You’ll be the first O’Flaherty to go to university if I have to sit the exams for you myself. I want you to have those opportunities I could only dream of. So after today you’re to focus on your school work. All right?’

‘Yes, Mum, I will. I promise.’

She patted my hand and as she opened the door she said, over her shoulder, ‘Oh, and, Niamh, there will be no more tap dancing.’

Irish Daily News

‘What women mean when…’

Niamh O’Flaherty

Beware when we say, ‘Fine,’ accompanied by a raised hand: this is a very dangerous area. When a woman says, ‘Fine,’ with a raised hand it means she’s furious with you but doesn’t want to argue with you any more.

When a man says, ‘Fine,’ he means ‘Fine’ (as in OK – no hidden meaning).

When a woman says she’ll be ready in ‘five minutes’ she doesn’t mean five minutes. She means she’ll be ready when she’s ready. If all is going well and she fits into the outfit she wants to wear and her hair turns out OK, you should be looking at twenty minutes. However, if she doesn’t fit into the outfit she wants to wear or her hair frizzes up, you could be looking at a good hour during which there will definitely be tears and vows never to eat again.

When a man says he’ll be ready in five minutes, he’s actually ready but wants to catch five minutes of the football without being nagged.

When a woman is asked what she wants to do for her birthday and she says, ‘Nothing’, beware. ‘Nothing’ is code for ‘I want something really special, but I don’t want to have to tell you. I want you to surprise me with your thoughtful present and romantic gestures.’ It does not mean that she wants nothing. Should you do nothing for her on her birthday, believe me, she will throw all of the toys out of the pram.

A man will never say he wants ‘Nothing’. He’ll ask for sex.

When a woman prefaces a sentence with ‘Oh, by the way’ – run for cover. We only use ‘Oh, by the way’ when we’ve heard something negative about you. ‘Oh, by the way’ means you’re in big trouble.

A man would never say, ‘Oh, by the way,’ unless maybe he was gay.

A loud sigh is often misinterpreted by men as a sign of tiredness in their partner. What it actually means is that she is feeling unloved, unappreciated and undervalued. When you hear the big sigh, pay attention. A storm is brewing.

A loud sigh in a man means he’s just had great sex.

On the other hand if a woman lets out a gentle, soft sigh, it means that she’s happy. Don’t ruin the moment by saying or doing anything. If we’re soft-sighing, we’re content. Don’t think it’s a good time to tell us you’ve booked a five-day rugby trip with the lads.

A gentle sigh in a man means he’s just had good sex.

When a woman says, ‘Thanks a lot,’ it really doesn’t have anything to do with gratitude. A woman will say, ‘Thanks a lot,’ when she’s annoyed. It can often be followed by a ‘loud sigh’, never a soft one. She is not content, she is angry, and you have done something to annoy her. Rack your brains, figure out what it was and apologize before she implodes.

When a man says, ‘Thanks a lot,’ he is grateful for something – usually food, being left in peace to watch sport, or sex.

10

Dublin, December 1998

I was hugely relieved that I had managed to persuade Pierre it was too early to introduce him to my mother. He had no idea how conservative my parents were. I knew they were going to react badly when I told them my boyfriend was black. To get my mind off it all, I went to work to finish my column.

While I was typing, Emily came to read it over my shoulder.

‘So, is the love affair still going well?’

‘Amazingly.’

‘Oh, God, you’re literally glowing with happiness. It’s sickening.’

‘Sorry, I can’t help it.’ I grinned.

‘Is it really that great?’

‘Brace yourself – it’s incredible.’

‘Doesn’t he ever do anything that annoys you?’

‘Nope.’

‘Don’t you get sick of looking at each other?’

‘I can’t get enough of him.’

‘OK, now I’m depressed.’

‘Look, if it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone. This should be giving you hope.’

‘If only he had a brother.’ She groaned. ‘Have you told your family yet?’

‘No, and my mum’s flying in tonight for the weekend.’

‘So she’ll meet Pierre?’

‘Not exactly. I’ve decided to wait a bit. I want to have another few months of this cocooned bliss before I tell my parents.’

‘How do you think they’ll react to him being black?’

‘How would yours react?’ I asked.

‘Not well. My mother still clutches her bag when she sees a black fella walking towards her,’ she said, giggling. ‘Ireland’s only recently come out of the dark ages. But I’m sure your parents will be more enlightened, having lived in England for so long.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ I sighed. ‘I’d better go, I don’t want to be late for dinner.’

‘Good luck!’ my friend called after me.

I arrived at my grandparents’ house to find Granny Byrne on her own, preparing the meal. Granddad had gone to collect Mum from the airport. Granny was worried about him. ‘He shouldn’t really be driving. His eyesight’s got very bad, but he wanted to pick up his little girl, so I let him at it.’

I smiled at the idea of my mother still being referred to as a little girl. It was sweet. You never stopped being a parent and you never stopped being a child.

‘Sorry I haven’t called in for a while. Work’s been hectic. How have you been?’ I asked, taking my coat off.

‘Not too bad, thanks. We’re keeping busy going to our friends’ funerals. They’re dropping like flies.’

‘Oh, Granny, that’s awful.’

‘That’s life.’ She shrugged. ‘We give them marks out of ten for turnout, quality of coffin and post-funeral refreshments. The best so far has been May Mespil’s. They had a sit-down lunch at the Four Seasons. Can you imagine? It was very swanky altogether. I said to your granddad, we’ll have to remortgage the house to pay for our send-offs. It’s got very competitive and we don’t want to be letting the side down.’ She winked.

‘Isn’t it a bit morbid?’

‘You have to laugh, pet. Your granddad’s eighty-three and I’m eighty-one. We’re not getting any younger.’

I shuddered. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to either of my grandparents. They were the loveliest people I knew and for some reason had always had that soft spot for me, possibly because I was the underdog in the family. It had been wonderful to grow up basking in their support.

‘And for the record,’ Granny added, ‘if I get Alzheimer’s, put a pillow over my face.’

‘Your request is noted. Now, can we please change the subject? What shall I do to help?’

‘You can chop these carrots,’ said Granny, handing me a knife. ‘How are things with you?’

‘Brilliant.’

‘Brilliant?’ she repeated. ‘You’ve never said that in your life. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, turning a deep shade of red. Damn. I should have been more careful.

‘Niamh O’Flaherty, are you in love?’

‘No!’ I protested.

‘You are too. It’s written all over your face.’

‘I’m not. Seriously, Granny, I’m just hot,’ I said, beginning to sweat under the scrutiny.

‘Don’t lie to me, young lady,’ she said, waving a carrot at me. ‘I know you far too well. Who is he?’

‘No one… I… It’s just someone I met a few weeks ago,’ I said, shaving a few months off the relationship. ‘It’s very early days, nothing to make a fuss about. I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to say. Honestly.’

Granny put her arm round my shoulders. ‘Oh dear, it’s worse than I thought, you’re completely smitten. It’s all right, I won’t ask you any more questions. I just hope he’s a nice boy and worthy of you.’

‘He is, believe me. He really is.’

‘I’m so pleased for you, pet, you deserve it.’

I wanted desperately to spill my heart out to her about Pierre, but for once in my life I took the sensible option, clamped my mouth shut and kept busy helping with dinner. By the time Granddad and Mum had arrived in from the airport, I’d managed to steer Granny away from talk of my romance.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Granny said, giving Mum a kiss.

‘Hello, pet,’ Mum said, giving me a kiss.

‘Happy birthday,’ I said, giving Granddad a kiss.

‘Haven’t seen you in a while,’ he said. ‘That newspaper must be keeping you very busy. That, or you’ve a new lad who’s taking up your time.’ He grinned.

I turned round quickly and went to get some wine so they wouldn’t see me going red again. My God, what was wrong with me? I hadn’t blushed so much since Siobhan was breastfeeding and had made me go down and ask the cute chemist for nipple cream.

We sat down and, after an off-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, had dinner. Granny Byrne did a great roast chicken. It was comfort food at its best, lashings of stuffing and roast potatoes lathered in butter.

‘How’s everyone at home?’ Granny asked Mum.

‘Not too bad, thanks. Apparently Finn is making a big difference to the business. Mick says he can’t believe how good he is with numbers. He’s come up with all these new ways to cut costs and improve efficiency. Mick says he’ll be able to retire soon and hand it over to him.’

‘That’s great news,’ said Granddad.

‘I don’t know about that. What would I do with my husband under my feet all day? I prefer him out at work,’ said Mum.

‘Men need to be out and about,’ Granny said. ‘When your dad retired, it was a total nightmare. He followed me round all day asking what I was doing and complaining about the house being a mess. I was driven demented.’

‘I did not,’ Granddad objected.

‘Yes, you did, I remember it all too well. You were very grumpy for the first few months until you took up golf,’ said Mum.

‘Slanderous accusations to be making on my birthday,’ muttered Granddad.

‘Maybe that’s what Dad needs to do,’ I suggested.

‘You need patience to play golf,’ Mum said, ‘and that’s one virtue your father is not blessed with.’

‘True,’ we all agreed.

‘How’s Siobhan getting on?’ Granny asked.

‘You know Siobhan. She wants to get pregnant again. I told her five children is enough. She’s worn out chasing after them and Muireann can be a handful at times. She’s very stubborn.’

‘She just knows what she wants. I don’t think she’s stubborn,’ I said, defending my niece.

‘Of course you don’t because she takes after you,’ laughed Mum.

‘I’m not stubborn!’ I said, shocked at the accusation.

‘Niamh,’ said Mum, ‘remember the tap-dancing lessons? You’re the most stubborn person I know, apart from your father.’

‘Being stubborn isn’t necessarily a bad thing,’ said Granddad. ‘As long as you channel it correctly.’

‘Like how?’ I asked.

‘Standing by your convictions when other people disagree with you. Not being swayed by the crowd… that kind of thing.’

Little did he know how much my stubbornness was going to be tested when word of my black boyfriend got out. It was a good thing I’d inherited this gene. I’d need to lean on it very soon.

‘Anyway, Miss Stubborn, what have you been up to? Any news?’ Mum asked.

‘She’s in love,’ Granny burst out.

‘Granny!’ I couldn’t believe she’d blabbed. Shit! Now I was going to get the bloody Spanish Inquisition.

‘Sorry, pet, I’m just excited for you and I know your mum’ll be delighted to hear you’ve met a nice man.’

‘Niamh?’ Mum turned to me.

‘It’s nothing. It’s only just started, and we’re still getting to know each other.’

‘What’s his name? Where did you meet him? What does he do?’ Mum demanded.

‘We met in a coffee shop, he’s an academic and his name is… uhm… Pierre.’

‘Pierre?’ said Mum.

‘French,’ said Granddad.

‘How romantic!’ said Granny.

‘Your father won’t like that,’ said Mum. ‘He thinks the French are a slippery lot.’

‘Why?’ I asked, beginning to panic. His Frenchness was the least of my worries.

‘Because they surrendered to the Germans in the Second World War.’

The Second World War? Was she kidding me? ‘Well, he’s more English than French because he was brought up in Oxford,’ I said, trying to distance Pierre and his family from the Vichy government of 1940. Give a girl a break!

‘Lovely,’ said Granny.

‘Nice part of the world, Oxford,’ said Granddad.

‘Hmmm,’ said Mum, decidedly unimpressed.

‘More wine?’ I asked, pouring myself a large glass.

I spent the rest of the weekend fudging Mum’s probing questions about my relationship and trying to keep her as busy as possible so that she wouldn’t break me. My mother was a total pro when it came to getting information out of people, and I knew that, given enough time, she’d wear me down with her questioning. The KGB could have used her. She was relentless.

I took her shopping, to the theatre, art galleries, exhibitions. She didn’t have time to grill me until we sat down to dinner after a dreadful play that I’d booked at the last minute to stop her quizzing me.

‘As you know, I’m getting the first flight home tomorrow morning,’ she said.

I nodded.

‘In case you think I hadn’t noticed that you’ve avoided me coming to see your flat, you’re wrong. Now, I want you to be honest with me. Is that man living there with you?’

‘No, Mum, he isn’t,’ I said, relieved at not having to lie.