Fionn can’t bring himself to either thank me or apologize, though. He wanders into the bedroom, going, ‘I can’t understand why I didn’t hear him if he was choking.’
Honor – totally out of the blue – goes, ‘Mom, I’ve decided to make my Confirmation after all.’
Sorcha is a bit thrown by this news, coming so soon after the emergency with Hillary. It actually takes a second or two to sink in. Then she’s like, ‘Oh my God, Honor – really?’
Honor nods her head. She’s like, ‘Dad persuaded me. He explained to me why it was so important.’
Sorcha seems happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. She goes, ‘That’s amazing news, Honor!’ and then she smiles at me.
Yeah, no, I seem to be very much the hero of the hour.
Honor goes, ‘I was trying to think of what name I might choose? For my Confirmation name? And I was thinking of maybe Madeleine?’
‘Oh my God,’ Sorcha goes, ‘after Madeleine Sophie Barat – the founder of the Society of the Sacred Hort?’
Honor’s there, ‘Yeah, if it wasn’t for her, there wouldn’t be a Mount Anville today.’
‘I was actually going to pick Madeleine myself except I changed my mind at the very last minute and chose Mary instead – after Mary Robinson? And obviously the Virgin Mary? Oh my God, Honor, I’m so happy that you’re going to make your Confirmation!’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Fionn goes, stepping out of our bedroom, ‘someone’s taken the batteries out of the baby monitor.’
Sorcha’s like, ‘Excuse me?’
‘Look!’ he goes, holding up the empty box up for all of us to see. ‘Someone’s removed the batteries!’
There’s, like, silence on the landing.
Sorcha’s there, ‘Oh my God, I’m wondering was it possibly me?’
Fionn’s like, ‘Why would it have been you?’
‘Well, maybe I took them out to change them and forgot to put the new ones in. I’ve got, like, total Baby Brain at the moment!’
But Fionn is just staring at Honor and it’s pretty obvious that he thinks it was her.
She’s just standing there, all innocence, looking at her phone, going, ‘Okay, if I’m going to do this, I want a really, really expensive dress for the day,’ and she has no idea that Fionn is giving her major filthies.
I feel like nearly throwing a punch at the goy. But then, out of Brian, Johnny and Leo’s room, I hear Pirate Pete – the Repeat Parrot go, ‘I’m going to split your head like a focking coconut, you focking prick with ears!’
So we’re sitting in the Jump Zone in Sandyford – me and Ronan – watching our kids wear themselves out on the trampolines and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t giving myself a little pat on the back at how well my son has turned out.
It seems like no time since we were enjoying our own unsupervised access days together – him kicking the fock out of the coin cascades in Dr Quirkey’s Good Time Emporium to try to make the money fall into the chute and me being morched up to Wes Quirke’s old man’s office to write a cheque for the damage to the machines.
He goes, ‘It’s mad, idn’t it, Rosser – the way toyum floyuz?’
I’m there, ‘I was just thinking the same thing, Ro. Rihanna-Brogan’s, what, five now? That’s nearly the same age as you were when I first met you.’
He goes, ‘Fooken mad, so it is.’
I’m watching his daughter playing away happily with Brian, Johnny and Leo – seeing who can jump the highest – and it gives me a really happy feeling inside. I’m there, ‘The boys really love their auntie, don’t they?’
But Ro goes, ‘She’s not their addenty, Rosser. They’re her udden cuddles.’
‘They couldn’t be her uncles – they’re younger than her.’
‘It dudn’t go by age, Rosser. Ine your sudden, which means moy kids will be your childorden’s nephews and nieces.’
‘Okay, I can’t even think about that. I think I’d have a focking stroke or something. Still, it’s nice that they obviously look up to her. Kids need role models. I’ve always said that.’
Rihanna-Brogan tips over to where we’re sitting. She’s out of breath and red in the face. She goes, ‘Daddy, cad I have muddy for a thrink? Ine, like, so thoorsty.’
Her accent is hilarious. A bit like Saoirse Ronan’s in the sense that it hasn’t a focking clue where it’s supposed to be from? Which is down to her spending the first two years of her life in Killiney and the rest in focking Nova Scobia.
The boys follow her over to us – shoes missing and their hair all over the shop.
Brian goes, ‘I want money. Gimme some focking money.’
I end up having to laugh. That’s exactly how I used to talk to my old man? Actually, it’s still how I talk to my old man. It’s the whole nature versus nurture thing. I’m a firm believer in the whole DNA thing. I genuinely think we don’t know the half of what’s going on with that shit.
I whip out a roll of fifties. ‘Okay,’ I go, ‘get yourselves a Coke or something. And get one for your auntie – or whatever she is – as well.’
‘Er, I actually don’t drink Coke?’ Rihanna-Brogan goes. ‘So I doatunt?’
I’m like, ‘Really? Seriously?’
Ronan’s there, ‘Sugardy thrinks is bad for kids, Rosser.’
I laugh. I’m like, ‘The first time I met you, you had a John Player Blue between your fingers and another one behind your focking ear. You were, what, just turned six?’
‘We ditn’t know about the dangers of smoking in moy day, but.’
‘That was in, like, 2003!’
‘If it’s all the same to you,’ Rihanna-Brogan goes, ‘I’ll joost hab an odange juice.’
It’s comical. It’ll be a genuine shock if she doesn’t end up on the Late Late Toy Show one day.
I peel off a Five-Oh and I hand it to Brian. ‘Get R&B there an orange juice – obviously Tropicana, if they have it – and get yourselves whatever you want.’
Off to the shop they fock.
I’m there, ‘I think there’s a lot of horseshit talked about things that are supposedly good for kids and things that are supposedly bad for them. They’ve been drinking Coke since they were, like, six months old. I used to put it in their beakers for them. Although don’t ever tell Sorcha that. She’s a terrible one for putting two and two together and getting four.’
My phone suddenly rings and – talk of the devil – my wife’s face fills the screen.
Ronan goes, ‘Do you want to take that, Rosser?’
And I’m like, ‘Not really, no. It’ll be something to do with the Confirmation.’
‘What Conferbation?’
‘Honor’s making her Confo next week.’
‘She toawult me on the phowunt that she wadn’t godda make it.’
‘Yeah, no, I managed to change her mind – even though she’s not going to say the lines about rejecting Satan. God, I’m a great father when you think about it.’
But he just gives me a look and goes, ‘Mebbe you should ansodder yisser phowunt, Rosser,’ and he ends up shaming me into taking the call.
I’m just like, ‘Fine – whatever!’ and then I’m like, ‘Sorcha, what’s up?’
She goes, ‘Oh! My God! Ross, you are not going to believe where I am?’
‘Dundrum?’
‘No, I’m in Havana!’
‘Havana – the, I don’t know, country?’
‘No, Havana in Donnybrook. It’s this, like, amazing, amazing boutique, where they stock, like, Haider Ackermann, Comme des Garçons, Maria Grachvogel …’
‘Why are you telling me this, Sorcha? It’s actually a bit boring.’
‘The reason I’m telling you is because I’m here with Honor!’
‘Honor?’
‘We’ve just bought her a dress! For her Confirmation!’
I’m like, ‘Seriously?’ feeling a little bit jealous if I’m being honest. I thought I was her shopping buddy?
‘It’s a tulle flower appliqué dress by S
imone Rocha,’ she goes, ‘and she looks ah-mazing in it! I actually cried? And I bought a dress for the day from the same collection, which complements hers, even though it’s not, like, matchy-matchy? And guess what, Ross? She filmed the whole thing! Oh my God, I’m going to be on her YouTube channel! Her mom!’
‘What the fock is she up to? That’s probably what you’re wondering, is it?’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I know what’s going on, Ross!’
‘Do you?’
‘It’s the Holy Spirit coming down on her!’
I actually laugh. I shouldn’t, but I do.
She goes, ‘Ross, the exact same thing happened to me about a week before my Confirmation? I was suddenly filled with this overwhelming sense of, like, goodness and – oh my God! – grace?’
Fock. I’m wondering now is Honor maybe laying it on a bit too thick? Sorcha might not see through it, but her old pair almost certainly will.
She goes, ‘I genuinely think it’s a miracle! Honor reaffirming her commitment to God has finally given me the relationship with my daughter that I’ve always dreamed of having! I know I’ve said this loads of times before, Ross, but we should stort going to Mass together as a family.’
I’m there, ‘Let’s keep it in perspective, Sorcha.’
‘We’re going to the Dylan now for afternoon tea! Oh my God, mother–daughter fun!’
And then she hangs up on me.
Ronan goes, ‘Hee-or, Rosser, I’ve been meadon to ast you –’
I’m like, ‘Money?’ and I whip out my roll again.
‘No, Ine alreet for muddy. I was godda ast you for yisser opidion about sometin.’
‘Okay, continue.’
‘What do you think of Huguette?’
‘Huguette? Is that the bird who wants sushi taken off the menu in the UCD restaurant?’
‘We gorrit taken off, Rosser! The restordoddent agreeyut that thee woultn’t seerb it addy mower!’
‘We?’
‘I was peert of the campayun.’
‘Okay – and you want to know what I think of her?’
‘That’s why I ast you.’
‘Honest opinion? Not much.’
I can tell from his face that this isn’t the answer he wanted.
I’m there, ‘She looks like Camila Cabello – I’ll give her that – albeit with an underbite like an open cash register. But she’s clearly no fan of mine.’
He goes, ‘It’s joost I really like her, Rosser. I’d luvven for you to meet her again.’
‘No, thanks. Once was enough for me. More than enough.’
‘It’s joost I’ve steerted sort of seeing the geerdle.’
‘For fock’s sake, Ro! I thought the whole idea of you breaking up with Shadden was so you could ride all around you. Instead, you’re hitching yourself to a bird who – okay, she’s got a great set of, for want of a better word, bongos –’
‘Mebbe that’s why she dudn’t like you, Rosser.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You could mebbe do wit leardon about the koyunt of things you cadden and caddent say these days. The wurdled’s chayunged.’
‘She’s zero crack, Ro. That’s my point. I’m no fan of sushi, but I wouldn’t consider it racist.’
‘She’s the President of the Students’ Youn Yodden, Rosser. She’s throying to make her meerk is all. Huguette was the wooden what got clapping baddened in UCD.’
‘Clapping?’
‘That’s reet.’
‘You’re saying clapping is banned in UCD?’
‘It’s joost in case it thriggers some wooden to hab an anxiety attack.’
‘So what do people do instead of clapping?’
‘Thee do jazz haddens.’
Ronan demonstrates for me, even though I already know what jazz hands are – I was a showman back in my kicking days, bear in mind.
I’m there, ‘So what do they do when the rugby team are playing?’
He goes, ‘Sayum thing. Jazz haddens.’
‘But they’re in the All Ireland League! Jesus Christ – Division 1A!’
‘Huguette persuaded them to put soyuns up alt over the growunt, aston the crowud to respect the clapping badden.’
‘And they do?’
‘It’s just good maddors, Rosser. It’s showing respect for people who are diffordent.’
‘Seriously, Ro, you’d have been better off marrying Shadden. At least she’s a bit of fun – especially when she drinks while she’s on antibiotics.’
Of course, it’s at that exact moment that a security gord arrives over to us. He’s holding Brian by the scruff of the neck with one hand and Leo with the other. Behind them, I can see a boy, about the same age as them, crying his eyes out and his mother – early forties, total fox – telling him that it’s okay, the nasty boys have gone now.
I notice Rihanna-Brogan apologizing to the woman, telling her that the boys are good but they just drink too much Coca-Cola. Where’s her focking loyalty? That’s what I want to know. I can’t believe Ronan raised a tout.
‘Are these your children?’ the security dude goes.
I’m like, ‘No,’ just to put the focker on the back foot. ‘I’ve never seen them before in my life.’
‘Fock you,’ Leo goes.
And I’m like, ‘No, fock you, Leo – how about that?’ and that’s how I end up giving myself away. ‘I can’t even enjoy an hour with my son. What have you been accused of doing now?’ because I was raised never to admit liability early on.
The security dude goes, ‘They pushed a little boy over.’
I’m there, ‘I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my – allegedly – son?’
Brian’s like, ‘He was standing in my focking way!’
And I’m there, ‘See?’ proud of the boy for trying to put a positive spin on it. ‘Two sides to every story.’
But the security dude isn’t in the mood to see it from his POV? He just goes, ‘If I ever see these children in the Jump Zone again, I’ll call the Guards.’
‘Ross,’ Sorcha goes, ‘sit down here with me and help me figure this out, will you?’
She’s sitting at the island in the kitchen with her Seanad Éireann diary open in front of her.
I’m like, ‘I was just about to do something, em … something else?’
‘Well, now you’re not,’ she goes. ‘You’re going to help me figure out this scheduling problem I have for Thursday.’
Thursday, by the way, is the day of the Confirmation and Sorcha is treating it like it’s basically a dry run for Honor’s wedding.
‘No matter what way I look at it,’ she goes, ‘there are literally not enough hours in the morning to do all of the things I have to do.’
Jesus Christ, she’s got the highlighter pens out. It’s worse than I thought.
She’s there, ‘I’ve moved my spray tan and my pedicure to the night before. I thought that might free up some time, but it actually hasn’t?’
I’m like, ‘Okay,’ sitting down beside her, deciding to just go with it – like drowning.
‘So, at seven thirty a.m.,’ she goes, ‘I’m getting my hair done in Glasthule.’
I’m there, ‘And does your hair actually need to be done?’
‘Is that a joke?’
‘No, it was a genuine question. I think it looks actually nice.’
‘Okay, I’m just going to ignore that. After the hairdressers, I’ve got to rush from Glasthule to Blackrock to get, like, my make-up and nails done at nine. Then I’ve got to drive to Stillorgan to collect my Simone Rocha dress from the alterations place. It was, like, an inch too long? Then I have to go to Dún Laoghaire to collect the cake. But – oh my God – I have to be back home by half ten because the window cleaner is coming!’
‘The window cleaner?’
‘Ross, we’re having, like, one hundred and twenty people over in the afternoon, including some of Dad’s former law colleagues. I am not having dirty windows.’
‘Could the window cle
aner not come, I don’t know, the day before?’
She laughs – like I’m the one being ridiculous?
She’s like, ‘Do you know how difficult it is to get a window cleaner in South Dublin in the Confirmation and Communion months?’
I’m there, ‘I’ve never given it much thought, Sorcha.’
‘Yes, that much is obvious, Ross. It’s like getting a hair or make-up appointment. I actually booked it last September? Then the photographer is also coming at twelve.’
‘We’ve hired a photographer?’
‘Of course we’ve hired a photographer. We want a permanent record of Honor’s Confirmation. These are the days, Ross.’
When you wished you’d stayed focking celibate. I’m very tempted to say it, but I manage to somehow stop myself.
‘So it’s, like, hair at seven thirty,’ she goes and she’s talking faster than Eabha Barnes now. ‘Make-up and nails at nine. Collect my dress at ten. I don’t even know if I’ll have time to try it on. Then the cake. Then back here in time for the window cleaner and the photographer. And then the caterers are arriving at half twelve and so is the marquee. There’ll be just enough time to put it up before … Oh! My God!’
‘What?’
‘I haven’t actually scheduled in the whole churchy-churchy part of the day!’
‘The what?’
‘The churchy-churchy part!’
‘Do you mean the actual Confirmation?’
‘I’m talking about the Mass, Ross, yes! Oh my God, how do the other moms make it look so easy?’
I can see how worked up she is, so I take her by the two hands and I tell her to breathe. Which she does.
‘Now,’ I go, ‘let me see this schedule.’
It’s obvious from looking at it that more planning has gone into this Confirmation than the hunt for Osama bin Laden. The pages are, like, a confusion of times and notes highlighted in yellow and orange and green and Post-its stuck here, there and literally everywhere. It’s classic Sorcha to, like, overthink everything. I end up looking at it with my rugby brain – in other words, tactically. And I figure it out straight away.
‘Okay,’ I go, ‘you get your hair and your nails done as planned. Then go and have a nice champagne breakfast somewhere with Lauren or Chloe or Amie with an ie.’
Schmidt Happens Page 15