Schmidt Happens

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  ‘What?’ she goes. ‘I don’t have time for that!’

  ‘I’ll collect your dress and I’ll collect the cake. Then I’ll come back here and I’ll deal with the window cleaner, the caterers and the morquee. The only thing you need to do is get back in time for the photographer. Then we can all go and enjoy the churchy-churchy bit without anyone needing to be stressed.’

  For a few seconds, she thinks about what I’ve said, then it’s like a weight has suddenly been lifted from her shoulders.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she goes, ‘you’re an actual genius!’

  I’m there, ‘I see the world through the eyes of an outhalf, Sorcha. I’m like a rugby version of Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind.’

  She’s like, ‘Oh my God, you’re amazing!’ and she puts her two orms around my shoulders and kisses me. And that kiss very quickly turns into a proper snog – to the point where it suddenly feels like we’re finally about to do it, here and now, in the middle of the kitchen.

  ‘We probably shouldn’t,’ Sorcha goes, pulling away from me.

  I’m like, ‘Do you want to maybe pop upstairs? I’ll be quick.’

  ‘No, let’s wait until Thursday night.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Fock’s sake!

  ‘When all the pressure’s off,’ she goes.

  I’m like, ‘Fair enough. If that’s how you feel.’

  She kisses me again. And it’s at that exact point that Fionn walks into the kitchen. He stares at us for a few seconds in silence, then he goes, ‘I’ve just put Hillary down, Sorcha, if you want to say goodnight to him.’

  And Sorcha’s like, ‘I do! Then I might check with Honor to see if she’s posted the video of us in Havana! I can’t wait to read the comments!’

  She heads upstairs with a definite skip in her step. Fionn watches her go. He’s obviously raging because he still can’t bring himself to thank me for saving his son’s life.

  I’m there, ‘It looks like Thursday night is going to be my lucky night in terms of hopefully sealing the deal with Sorcha. I’ll make sure the volume on the baby monitor is up nice and high for you.’

  ‘Just make sure there’s batteries in it,’ he goes. ‘That’s all I care about.’

  ‘Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Do you really need me to spell it out for you?’

  ‘If you’re alleging something, then maybe you should?’

  ‘I’m just saying that you and Sorcha might be fooled by Honor, but I’m not.’

  ‘You think she took the batteries out, don’t you?’

  ‘You don’t want to know what I think, Ross.’

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘All I’m interested in is protecting my son.’

  ‘Protecting him? You’d swear that someone here was deliberately trying to hurt him.’

  He goes, ‘You would, wouldn’t you?’

  And I am right on the point of decking him. In other words, there’s about to be a decking and he is going to be the subject of that decking. I’m going to be the decker and he’s going to be the deckee.

  But then Sorcha comes running into the kitchen in a total panic, holding Hillary in her orms, going, ‘He’s getting sick again, Fionn! Oh my God, what’s wrong with our beautiful baby?’

  So it’s, like, Thursday morning and I’m in Dún Laoghaire with Honor. We’ve just collected the cake and I’m putting it into the boot of the cor when my old man suddenly texts me. He’s like, ‘Big day today, Kicker!’

  I text him straight back. It’s nice to be nice. I’m there, ‘What the fock are you talking about?’ and I’m presuming it’s the Confirmation.

  Except he texts me then, going, ‘Haven’t you seen my last tweet?’ and, like a focking idiot, I check his Twitter feed. It’s just like:

  Charles O’Carroll-Kelly √ @realCOCK – 20m

  Today Theresa May triggers Article 50! An historic day as the UK begins the process of taking back its country from the same EU that forced YOU to repay billions of euros in debts that had nothing to do with you! We should follow our friends out the door! #Brexit #Irexit

  Reply 971 Retweet 5,426 Like 13,018

  I’m thinking, who the fock is Theresa May? I don’t even bother giving him a Like – wouldn’t give him the pleasure. Instead, I stick my phone back into my pocket and get into the cor. I stort her up and point her in the direction of Stillorgan.

  Honor’s like, ‘Where are we going now?’

  I’m there, ‘The alterations place – to pick up your old dear’s dress.’

  She goes, ‘Eugh! I can’t believe me and her are going to be wearing pretty much the same outfit today.’

  ‘Sorcha said they weren’t actually matchy-matchy.’

  ‘They’re close enough. You owe me big-time for this, by the way.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I mean, it’s actually painful listening to her at the moment. You know she thinks the Holy focking Spirit is upon me?’

  I laugh. It’s just the way she phrases it.

  I’m there, ‘I’ve heard her mention the Holy Spirit once or twice alright. You’re doing great, Honor.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know how I’ve managed to keep biting my tongue.’

  ‘You’re still going through with it, aren’t you? The Confirmation, I mean?’

  ‘I’m showing my face in the church and that’s it. They can fock off if they think I’m saying any of the words.’

  ‘That’s great, Honor. I just want you to know that I really appreciate it, okay? I’m back in Sorcha’s definite good books.’

  ‘You should be – er, you saved her baby’s life?’

  There’s, like, silence between us then. There’s something on my mind and Honor knows it. She’s sensitive like that.

  ‘What the fock is wrong with you?’ she goes.

  And I’m there, ‘Look, can I ask you a question, Honor?’

  ‘What kind of question?’

  ‘Okay, don’t get all defensive. You’re going to think I’m being ridiculous even asking this. As a matter of fact, you’ll hopefully laugh. But you didn’t, by any chance, take the batteries out of the baby monitor in Hillary’s room, did you?’

  She doesn’t answer me either way. But I can feel her just staring at me while I’m focusing on the road ahead. There’s just, like, twenty seconds of silence, of neither of us saying shit as I take the turn onto Patrick Street.

  I’m there, ‘That’s good enough for me, Honor,’ because I honestly can’t bear that kind of silence. ‘Not that I ever doubted you.’

  She goes, ‘Did she tell you to ask me that question?’

  I’m like, ‘No, I just wondered did you possibly borrow the batteries to put them in Pirate Pete – the Repeat Parrot and that’s the reason they didn’t hear Hillary basically choking?’

  I can hear the fear in my voice. I really am terrified of my daughter.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she goes, ‘it was him, wasn’t it? He thinks I did it!’

  I’m there, ‘He didn’t say it in so many words. But – yeah, no – he as good as said it? If it’s any consolation, I came very close to decking him. Very close.’

  ‘Why would I take the batteries out of the baby monitor?’

  ‘Again, he didn’t make any specific allegations. He just kept banging on about how Hillary needed to be protected.’

  ‘Protected?’

  ‘That was the word he used – the exact word.’

  ‘Protected from me? He thinks I have something to do with him being sick, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He never said that.’

  ‘Hillary is my brother.’

  ‘I know. It’s ridiculous – the whole thing.’

  She becomes genuinely upset then.

  She’s like, ‘I mean, yes, I’m a bitch. Yes, I’ve done a lot of things over the years that were genuinely horrible. But do you honestly think I would do anything to physically hurt a member of my own family?’

  I go, ‘I think you’ve answered your crit
ics, Honor. Even though they’re not here at the moment. Do you know something? I actually think I’ll deck him when we get home. I’ll just walk into his room. Won’t say a word. Bang! Just deck him and leave. Let him figure out when he finally wakes up why he’s been on the wrong end of a decking –’

  I suddenly stop talking. Because I spot something halfway up Patrick Street that causes me to suddenly slam on the brakes.

  I’m like, ‘What? The fock?’

  Even Honor goes, ‘Isn’t that your friend – what’s his name?’

  Yes, it is my friend. It’s JP. And he’s doing something I never thought I’d see any former teammate of mine ever do. He’s walking out of a builder’s providers, carrying – quite literally – a lorge sheet of wood, we’re talking six feet by four feet, which he then storts trying to secure to the roof of his BMW X5 using rope.

  I pull up in the middle of the road and I stick the hazards on. I get out of the cor and I walk over to him.

  I’m like, ‘Dude, what the fock are you doing?’

  And he goes, ‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m buying some wood!’ and he says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  I’m there, ‘You say that like it’s nothing.’

  ‘It is nothing,’ he goes. ‘It’s just some wood.’

  ‘Dude, I see you walking out of a builder’s providers and you expect me to just drive away and pretend I haven’t seen anything? What the fock is going on?’

  ‘I’m building a prototype, Ross. Of the Vampire Bed.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘You better believe I’m serious. I’ve patented the idea and I’m going on the Late Late Show to talk about it.’

  ‘Dude, you thought it was a stupid idea. You laughed in your old man’s face.’

  ‘And I shouldn’t have. Maybe that’s why he never believed in me – because I never believed in him. I mean, I laughed when he said that Camden Street was Ireland’s Greenwich Village. I laughed when he described Sean McDermott Street as Dublin’s Brick Lane.’

  ‘JP, you’re grieving. Look, I’m sorry I ever told you what your old man said about you.’

  ‘Actually, I’m not. I mean, I was, but I’m not any more. Because it’s given me the kick in the orse I needed to go and do this.’

  ‘Dude, you’ve got an estate agency to run.’

  ‘Fock the estate agency. I’m going to put all of my energy now into making the old man’s Vampire Bed dream a reality.’

  There’s a real buzz outside the old Church of St Thérèse in Mount Merrion. The cor pork is full of excited children, proud fathers and heavily botoxed mothers. And it’s big smiles all round, except in the case of the heavily botoxed mothers, who obviously can’t smile, but you can tell from their eyes that the intention is there?

  Honor looks great in her dress. I turn around to her and I ask her if she’s okay.

  ‘No, I’m focking not,’ she goes, through gritted teeth. ‘I feel like a total focking hypocrite.’

  And I’m there, ‘I wouldn’t let it bother you – it doesn’t seem to be an issue for anyone else here? If you could just hold it together for one hour, though, I’ll owe you in a major way.’

  Sorcha waves across the cor pork at Cloud Gorvey’s mom and mouths the words, ‘Oh my God, your outfit is beautiful!’ and the woman mouths back, ‘Oh my God, look at you!’

  ‘This is some focking prickfest!’ Leo goes, looking around him.

  Me and Honor laugh. But Sorcha’s old dear just tuts. I turn around and I’m like, ‘What the fock is your problem? Focking tutting!’

  ‘I don’t know why you insisted on bringing those boys,’ she tries to go.

  And I’m there, ‘Yeah, those boys, as you call them, are Honor’s brothers. They’re entitled to be here – unlike you two focking dicks.’

  Sorcha’s old man looks like he wants to throttle me. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to cause a scene outside a church – values his rep too much, so he just goes, ‘Sorcha, I’m going to ask the priest if he needs assistance in ministering the Eucharist today.’

  Because that’s the kind of knob you’re dealing with here.

  And Sorcha’s old dear goes, ‘I’ll come with you, Edmund,’ and she makes sure to give me a filthy before they thankfully fock off.

  It’s a beautiful, spring day. It’s one of the social events of the year in South Dublin and we all stand around outside the church to soak up the atmos and make comments about each other out of the side of our mouths.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Sorcha goes, ‘Susan Gorvey wore that exact same skirt and top to the last Mount Anville Past Pupils Networking Brunch!’ and then a few minutes later she’s like, ‘Oh my God, Ross, don’t ever let me go out wearing what Currer Bell Whelehan’s mom is wearing!’

  Yes, it’s nice to see that the old traditions are alive and well in Mount Anville. Money, insincerity and faces stuffed with filler – these people were doing it long before anyone had ever heard of the Kordashians.

  Mallorie Kennedy tips over to us with her daughter, Courage. ‘Oh my God!’ the woman goes. ‘Sorcha, look at you and Honor in your matching dresses!’

  Sorcha can’t figure out whether that’s a dig or a compliment. That’s the thing about dealing with Mount Anville moms – sometimes the truth only dawns on you weeks later.

  ‘They’re not, like, matchy-matchy?’ Sorcha tries to go.

  ‘Well, you both look absolutely fabulous,’ Mallorie goes. ‘What name is Honor choosing?’

  Sorcha’s like, ‘Madeleine.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mallorie goes, unable to hide her disappointment. ‘Courage was thinking about that one as well. Sister Dave was saying there’d be no Mount Anville today if it wasn’t for this Madeleine person. Although Courage is still thinking about double-barrelling it – maybe with something French. She’s still got two or three options in mind. Oh, look at your lovely boys, Sorcha!’

  ‘Fock off,’ Leo goes, ‘you ugly focking bitch!’

  I laugh. So does Honor. His comic timing is un-focking-believable.

  Mallorie pretends that it doesn’t bother her. She just smiles at Sorcha and goes, ‘So did you get a morquee?’

  Sorcha’s like, ‘Yeah, we’ve got, like, a hundred and twenty people coming this afternoon.’

  ‘We’ve got a hundred and fifty. You stole our caterer, by the way.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘We booked him last August. But my husband forgot – or, more likely, didn’t bother – to pay the deposit, then you came in and snapped him up. I don’t want you to feel bad about it. Is he doing his quince, ham and blue cheese pintxos?’

  ‘No, he’s doing mango and crayfish vol-au-vents and then mini ginger burgers with lime mayo and arugula.’

  ‘The pintxos are the thing he’s famous for – again, not being a bitch. Oh my God, here comes Bishop Brannigan!’

  Yeah, no, the dude who’s going to do the actual confirming – if that’s the right word? – gets out of the back of a black Merc and everyone ooohs and awwws and claps like it’s Michael focking Bublé, then we all shuffle into the church.

  Sister Dave greets us at the door. She’s like, ‘Hello, Honor!’ and there’s a real, I don’t know, smugness in her voice, like she’s reminding her who won the battle of wills between them and she’s determined to rub her basic nose in it?

  Inside the church, I spot Roz Matthews and she gives me a smile and a wave – obviously not one to hold a grudge – then Sincerity tips over and asks Honor if she wants to sit beside her and Honor just shrugs like she doesn’t give a fock one way or the other.

  Sorcha’s like, ‘Good luck, girls!’ as Sincerity follows Honor up the aisle and they sit in the third pew back. ‘We’re so proud of you, Dorling!’

  And I’m there, ‘Bear in mind, Honor, it’ll be over before you know it!’

  And – yeah, no – then the whole thing kicks off. Sorcha spends most of the actual Mass dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief and whispering,
‘Our little girl, Ross!’

  And I’m like, ‘Yeah, no, definite fair focks.’

  She slips her hand into mine while we’re singing ‘Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven’. To her immediate left, I can see her old man staring at our two sets of fingers knotted together and I can tell that it kills him. I’m looking sideways at him and he accidentally makes eye contact with me and I run my tongue over my top lip just to let him know that I’m probably going to be – for want of a better phrase – banging his daughter’s back out later on tonight.

  Seriously, if that man ever puts his hands around my throat, he won’t let go until I’m actually dead.

  Anyway, the whole thing is going pretty well. Even the boys manage to behave themselves, except for one sort of embarrassing moment when Susan Gorvey is reading the Second Letter from St Paul to the Thessalonians and Leo shouts, ‘Fock you! And fock the Thessalonians!’ and the people in front of us stort looking back over their shoulders to find out where the comment came from.

  I tell one or two of them to turn the fock around, then normal service resumes.

  Yeah, no, like I said, the whole thing is going pretty much swimmingly until about forty-five minutes in, when we get to what I would call the whole ‘Do you this?’ and ‘Do you that?’ port of the Mass.

  Bishop Brannigan is standing behind the altar and he’s going, ‘Do you reject Satan and all his works and all his empty promises?’

  And all the girls are like, ‘I do!’

  He goes, ‘Do you believe in God the Father, the Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth?’

  Again, they’re all there, ‘I do!’

  Sorcha smiles at me, as if to say, So far, so good.

  The bishop’s there, ‘Do you believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, died and was buried, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father?’

  They girls are all like, ‘I do!’

  But then the dude suddenly stops – as in, he doesn’t say shit for about twenty seconds. There’s something obviously wrong. He steps out from behind the altar and he walks over to the first pew. He goes, ‘There’s one little girl there and I don’t see her lips moving.’