Once, Twice, Three Times an Aisling

by Emer McLysaght

  ‘Did I tell you about what happened with the dress? Oh God, I didn’t.’ I fill Sharon in on the whole fiasco. ‘Of course, I look like a bit of a hound in it. It’s very clingy around the middle.’

  Sharon doesn’t answer me and when I try to catch her eye in the mirror she looks annoyed. That same annoyed expression I’ve been seeing for months.

  ‘Sharon, is everything okay?’

  She takes a breath and then looks me in the eye. ‘Aisling, how do you think it makes me feel when you go on and on about getting fat and counting Points and doing steps and “being good” and dresses “clinging around the middle”?’

  My eyes widen. I was not expecting this.

  ‘I’m a big girl, right? I’m fat?’

  ‘You’re not fat,’ I say reflexively and she holds her hand up.

  ‘I wear a size twenty, Aisling. I know that probably horrifies you but I do. And you going on and on about Weight Watchers and “Trim for Tenerife” and – Jesus. I’m just sick of it.’

  I’m dumbstruck. Sharon is a bigger girl, but she wears her clothes with such confidence and always looks so sexy, I just never thought … I just never thought.

  ‘When you talk like that it makes me feel you’d rather die than look like me,’ she says in a small voice. ‘You and the girls do it all the time.’

  Her statement sinks in and I realise she’s right, we do do it all the time. I feel worse than I have done in months. ‘Sharon, I’m so sorry. I just … I’m just so used to doing it. I don’t even notice.’

  Sharon lifts her head up high again. ‘Well, maybe start noticing. Not everyone wants to hear about how many Points are in their bloody Lindor.’

  I nod. ‘I will. I promise.’

  She holds my eye in the mirror and then squeezes my shoulder. ‘I know you will.’

  Sharon spends the next hour perfecting Majella’s face. Honestly, the things she can do with make-up. I’ve never seen Maj’s eyes look greener or her skin so glowy. She’s gone for a simple half-up, half-down look for her hair and she’s just stunning. I’m taking the three hundredth picture of her on my phone when there’s another knock on the door. I jog over to answer it and am surprised to see Mammy standing there. I’ve barely had time to think about our run-in in the kitchen last night.

  ‘Hiya, Mammy.’

  She has a box in her hands. ‘I found it. I went digging in the attic.’

  I could cry with relief. ‘Thanks, Mammy.’

  ‘Look at you. My grown-up girl.’ Majella comes to the door to see who it is and Mammy smiles and takes each of our hands. ‘My two grown-up girls. I’ll see you in the church.’

  ‘Is Paul driving you, Mammy? Tell him traffic is going to be bad, what with everything happening at Garbally.’ I’m glad Paul’s coming today – it’ll cheer him up a bit.

  ‘He told me this morning that he’d make his own way, pet. Constance is bringing us in the Range.’

  The Range! Honest to God. She’ll be wearing the Camilla Parker Bowles hat next.

  I say goodbye and retreat into the bridal suite. I’m just sitting on the couch firing off another few texts to Carol when Majella rounds the doorframe, hair backcombed to within an inch of its life.

  ‘Sadhbh just texted me. She said she’ll see us in the church and later at the afters. Does that mean The Peigs are in BGB, but they’re playing at Garbally?’

  45

  In for a penny, in for a pound, so I confirm straight away to Majella that, yes, The Peigs are playing at Emilia’s wedding and Sadhbh is going to be there with them, but she’s determined to see Maj walk down the aisle. Plus, she’s not missing the Ard Rí’s legendary 11 p.m. Tayto-sandwich buffet.

  ‘She couldn’t say anything earlier because they all had to sign NDAs too,’ I explain diplomatically.

  ‘Is there anyone who didn’t sign an NDA?’

  It would be Majella’s dream to be so far into an inner celebrity circle that she’d have to sign an NDA, so I know this must be hard for her. And on her wedding day of all days. I wonder could I get Mandy to rustle up something for her to sign. Maj’d be thrilled. I placate her with tales of the day Emilia came to BallyGoBrunch, going into minute detail about what she was wearing and answering detailed questions about whether or not I thought she had hair extensions and how much money, roughly, did I suspect her earrings cost.

  Before we know it it’s twenty to two and time to head to the church. Shem Moran is driving us in his father’s old Morris Minor. In hindsight, maybe we should have ordered another car, but luckily Juana decides to go with her daughters – which is probably for the best because she started crying about her bambino at around half twelve and I haven’t been able to get her to stop. Paola and Maria seem well able for it, though. They have half of Tenerife on FaceTime when they come to the room to collect Juana, and there’s a lot of shrieking and te amo and twirling by Majella, who looks absolutely stunning. Like, truly stunning. I’ve nearly ruined my good eyes several times looking at her. I was doing the usual ‘the state of me’ putting on the back-up green dress, but I remembered what Sharon had said and thought about how I really looked and felt and decided that I looked and felt quite nice, actually.

  We bundle Maj into the back of the tiny car and I get in beside her. Liz and Shem are in the front and I sneak one last look at my phone to get the latest from Carol. Almost all the grub is up at Garbally, and Mandy has an army of young lads and girls ready to pass them out. According to Carol, Mandy was low on staff because of the date change and so recruited anyone in the locality with a white shirt as late as yesterday in a bid to keep things under wraps for as long as possible. They’ve been given a crash course in tray carrying and napkin placement and not accidentally calling Aidan Gillen a sap. I stick my phone into my tiny satin bag and take Majella’s hand and squeeze it.

  ‘Done with work now, I promise. Nearly time.’

  She smiles. ‘Nearly time.’

  We pull up to the church just a few minutes after two and I’m impressed, to be honest. I had visions of us being two hours late and nobody getting their dinner until midnight. Shem opens the car door and takes Majella’s hand, and I stick my head in the door of the church and give the nod. The music starts – an acoustic version of Ricky Martin’s ‘She Bangs’ – and away I go. I hadn’t even thought about getting nervous, but now, as I take my first steps up the aisle, I am. Everyone turns to look and I’m the first one their eyes land on. I see familiar faces from the hen: Ellen and Carmel and Teresa; Abuela Sofia, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I see Mammy and Constance, her plus-one for the day. I see Cyclops and Titch, red in the face from too-tight ties. Sadhbh and Don, looking too cool for school. I search for James and see his tired face peering out from one of the pews. I can tell when Majella comes into view, a parent on each arm, because there’s a collective ahhh from the congregation. On I go, one foot in front of the other, walking up the aisle. And then he turns around … John. I feel my bottom lip start to tremble as he smiles at me, and I remember how I used to dream about walking up this very aisle towards him. He looks handsome in a bow-tie. He got his hair cut. Then Pablo turns around and on sight of Maj he crumbles. Full-blown bawling. He looks smashing, considering. Majella reaches the top of the aisle and I take her bouquet and Father Fenlon and Padre Iago step forward and we’re off.

  The service is long. Nobody is going to deny that. Padre Iago repeats everything Father Fenlon says in Spanish, including the readings and the prayers. People start to wilt at about half three but a rousing rendition of ‘To Make You Feel My Love’ wakes everyone up again. I’m not sure we were supposed to join in, but I think people need something to live for, to be quite honest. Then we’re on the home stretch, and before we know it it’s half four and I’m up signing the register with Majella and Pablo and then out the door of the church for the shaking of the hands and the chat about how starving everyone is. Sadhbh and Don race past to their car so they can boot it over to Garbally for their second wedding of the day. I fin
d James standing alone by a shrub, and he drives us in almost complete silence to the Ard Rí in the jeep, which is spotless. Something has definitely changed between us, but now is not the time. When we arrive at a quarter past five, Lisa Gleeson’s anxious head bobs around the front entrance.

  ‘Thank God,’ she hisses at me through her teeth. ‘I thought ye would never get here. The chef is threatening to throw the beef down the toilet if he can’t start getting the dinner ready soon.’

  ‘Sorry, Lisa, the ceremony ran long. They’ll all be here any minute.’

  She’d want to get used to this, to be quite honest. I’ve been at weddings where the goat’s cheese and beetroot salad wasn’t served until half nine.

  Half six and the Prosecco reception is nearly over. Majella and Pablo get the photos done and Javier and Miguel surprise everyone by pulling out two guitars and flamencoing away to their heart’s content. It’s a good ice-breaker for at least some of the forty-two Tenerifians who had made the journey. They had formed their own little enclave and I was worried they might never integrate when Majella made the controversial decision to mix up some of the tables, putting people together who don’t know each other. Wouldn’t be for me, now. I was at a wedding once with John where I knew nobody and I wasn’t even sitting with him. I was like a bull. Although, I did meet a very nice woman called Eleanor, who I’m still friends with on Facebook and I’m not entirely convinced isn’t one of the naturists who showed up on Mammy’s eco farm. Some of her hedgerow shots looked very familiar. The guitar playing proves to be a good mixer, though, and before long a very pretty señorita – Juana’s neighbour’s niece, I think – has Murt Kelly up doing a few moves. As I’m watching Murt turning various shades of maroon, James sidles up with a glass of white and points to the empty chair beside me. I nod and he sits down, watching Murt slowly dislocate his hips.

  ‘Can we talk, Aisling?’

  Before I can answer him, Lisa Gleeson appears in the ballroom doorway ringing the dinner bell. Deirdre Ruane sweeps past us on her way to her table and gives me a thumbs-up. ‘Can’t wait for your speech, Ais.’

  Ugh. I had managed to forget about the bloody speech for about a minute. I have bits of it written down on a scrap of paper in my tiny handbag, and I know what I want to say in my heart, but will I be able to get it all out? Maj is having the speeches in between courses so at least people will be a bit distracted. Shem is going to go first after the starters and then it’s me and John after the mains.

  I give James’s arm a squeeze. ‘Talk later, okay? Enjoy your dinner.’

  I feel bad that James won’t be sitting at the top table with us but Majella has put him with Cyclops and Sharon so he should be fine. Megan’s with them too. Lisa rings the bell again but everyone’s already forgotten their table numbers, despite having had a nosey when they first arrived, so there’s a huge gathering of people around the table plan and a lot of confusion. I have images of the chef stuffing heads of broccoli down the sink in petulance.

  Finally, everyone is seated and the starters and Shem’s speech – complete with a dissection of every hickey Majella came home with from the ages of sixteen to twenty – come and go all too quickly, and by the time they’re clearing away the plates my nerves are eating away at the lining of my stomach and every last hive on my body is screaming. John seems to be faring a bit better and says he’s keeping his speech ‘short and sweet’. Pablo is doing his after dessert and I’m wondering how many bathroom breaks I’ll need during it.

  ‘Aisling? Ais.’ Majella comes up behind me and sinks into the chair John has just vacated to answer his phone. ‘I’m worried about table twenty-three.’

  Table twenty-three is a mix of her father’s side of the family and Pablo’s mother’s cousins. It was a risky move but Majella thought that a shared love of films about Don Quixote would unite them. She was wrong. I take a look and there are a number of sour pusses and not much chat. ‘What’ll we do? I just want everyone to have a good time.’

  Lisa Gleeson has obviously noticed too because I see her heading straight over, beckoning Javier and Miguel to follow her. Then she leans in and whispers something to them. Before anyone can figure out what’s going on, the brothers pick up their instruments and start playing. Within three seconds it clicks. I know what she’s at. I leap up from my chair and head over there, joining in with her just as she begins to sing a very familiar opening line.

  Thirty seconds later, the entire wedding is gathered around table twenty-three roaring ‘Say A Little Prayer’ while those seated wave their hands in the air. It’s quite the moment.

  ‘Thanks, Lisa, you really pulled that out of the bag,’ I say admiringly, following her out of the ballroom and back to her office at her request. ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding, right?’

  ‘Yep. What a movie! I picked up so many tips. I have a groom convinced to surprise his bride with karaoke at a wedding next week.’

  That sounds like an absolutely terrible plan but I say nothing. She seems so pleased with herself. I glance around the room and so many things start to make sense. Father of the Bride, Four Weddings and a Funeral, The Wedding Planner and Bridesmaids are just some of the DVDs lined up against the wall. Hey, at least she does her research.

  I sink into a chair opposite her desk, glad of the bit of peace and quiet and a chance for a scratch. I’m trying not to go for the visible hives but the ones on my legs under the dress are just asking for it.

  ‘You’ve allergies too, huh?’ Lisa asks sympathetically. ‘It’s such a pain in the arse. My brother is covered in hives just like that. He’s been working out at Garbally and he’s allergic to whatever cement dust they’ve been using out there. Mammy had to put socks on his hands like a baby.’

  I stop mid-scratch. ‘Allergies? I thought they were from stress.’

  ‘Oh, well, that wouldn’t help either. A third of my hair fell out during my Leaving Cert even after I dropped to pass French,’ Lisa says. ‘The body has a way of telling you things.’

  Yeah, like when your boyfriend is literally giving you hives.

  ‘Aisling.’ Lisa turns to me with a concerned frown. ‘I asked you in here because I’ve bad news.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Michael Coleman, the lead singer of Love Hurts?’

  ‘Yeah, what about him?’

  ‘I just got a phone call. He’s broken his right wrist doing an energetic “Rock the Boat” at a communion in Offaly and can’t play tonight.’

  ‘You are joking me.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘He said his brother Brendan can stand in for him, but he said, and I quote, “he hasn’t got the” –’ she struggles to finish the sentence ‘– “the Mickey Magic that the ladies love”.’

  First The Peigs pull out and now bloody Love Hurts are banjaxed?

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I ask her again. Before she can even answer John sticks his head around the door.

  ‘Aisling. You don’t know where Paul is, do you?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘He’s not here. No one’s seen him all day.’

  46

  ‘Shit, Ais.’ John’s using the tone he normally reserves for when Rangers are ten points down with only two minutes left on the clock and he’s watching the match through his fingers. I know it well, although I haven’t heard it in a while.

  ‘What? What is it, John?’ I follow him back out into the hallway, trying to keep my voice level, but the panic inside me is rising. John looks so worried and Paul’s been so down. And now he’s been missing all day and I didn’t even notice. All I can think about is what he said yesterday about belonging nowhere.

  ‘Why are you so panicked, John? Mammy said he’d make his own way to the wedding. Maybe he just changed his mind?’ Even as I’m talking John is shaking his head.

  ‘I rang him the other night to say hello. He’d just found out Hannah was going out with some new lad. He was in bits. Crying. The
works. I’m really worried, Ais. I asked your mother casually as I could where he was today and she said he got an offer of work doing some bricklaying with Titch’s father but I checked with Titch and that’s not true.’

  I catch Tessie Daly waving frantically out of the corner of my eye. She’s on her way in to the ballroom and is pointing at her handbag and mouthing ‘card here’.

  ‘I’ll come over in a minute,’ I mouth back, pasting on a smile.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me, John,’ I hiss, swinging back to him, although I know in my heart that I should have put all this together myself. I desperately try to remember if I saw Paul at any stage during the day.

  ‘You have enough going on yourself,’ John says. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. I asked him if he wanted to go for a pint, but he said he was trying to stay away from the beer because it was making him maudlin.’

  ‘You didn’t call over to him or anything, no?’ I feel rotten saying this to John, nearly accusing him of neglecting Paul when really it’s myself I should be blaming. Didn’t he try to talk to me loads of times? At least John listened.

  ‘I was going to but your mother told me not to be calling around so much. She said William Foley was worried there’d be no work left for him on the farm if I was doing all the jobs for free.’

  Oh no. This is all my fault. I was so caught up in my bloody James and John drama that I didn’t even notice that John is really Paul’s only friend here. And I cut them off. And had Mammy lying for me. I walk back towards the open double doors of the ballroom, which is buzzing with chat and the sound of cutlery hitting plates. They’ve started serving the mains. Majella will be wondering where me and John are. I stand at the door and scan the room. ‘Is his phone ringing?’

  John shakes his head silently. I scan again, desperately trying to figure out what to do. Mammy is over there talking to Father Fenlon but I don’t want to worry her unless I absolutely have to. Then I clock Lisa Gleeson waving her arms at me frantically and pointing at her watch. Balls. The speeches. I turn back to John, hiding behind him so I don’t have to make eye contact with her. ‘I have to find him.’