It’s at that exact point that I spot the famous Huguette walking across the restaurant towards the table. I was just about to ask Ro was he still seeing the girl, but I end up getting my answer straight away.
She goes, ‘Hey, Ronan,’ and – I swear to fock – the goy pulls his plate towards him, picks up his knife and fork again and goes back to eating his boxty.
He goes, ‘Ah, howiya, Huguette! This stuff is lubbly, by the way!’
He’s obviously got it bad for the girl. She doesn’t even look at me?
She goes, ‘Don’t eat another forkful! We’ve decided to boycott the restaurant again!’
Ro’s there, ‘Seerdiously?’
She’s like, ‘Are you saying you haven’t read my blog today?’ and she says it in a real, I don’t know, accusing way?
He goes, ‘I, er, habn’t got to it yet, Huguette, no. I’d leckchodders alt morden, so I did.’
‘Er, I posted it, like, an hour ago?’
‘I was joost habbon a birra luddench with the Ross lad here. Me sister’s off to Austradia and he was in inviting me out to the airpowurt on Suddenday to see her off.’
‘Right.’
‘Hodestly, I was godda read it in the arthur noon, but.’
He’s totally focking whipped by her. It’s very depressing to actually watch.
‘Anyway,’ she goes, ‘when you read my blog, you’ll see why we’ve decided to stort picketing the restaurant again.’
Ro’s there, ‘Addy chaddence of a preview, Huguette?’
‘Well, we were debating it at a student union meeting last night and we actually agreed that an Irish restaurant that serves just Irish food is actually guilty of monoculturalism.’
‘Reet.’
‘And monoculturalism, as we all know, is a form of racism.’
‘I hab to admit, I hatn’t thought abourit like that befower.’
‘So get up – both of you.’
Ronan actually stands up.
I’m suddenly confused. I’m there, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa – what the fock are you doing?’
Ro goes, ‘You heerd the geerdle, Rosser. Ine not eating in a bleaten racist resterdoddent.’
I’m there ‘But I thought serving sushi and spaghetti was supposedly racist.’
‘It is,’ Huguette goes – again, without even looking at me. ‘But not serving sushi and spaghetti is even more racist?’
Ronan goes, ‘So, what, we’re going to do anutter picket, aston them to put them back odden the medu?’
‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Come on, let’s go. I find the diversity-hating atmosphere in this place actually toxic?’
‘The fock are we?’ Leo goes as I pull into the cor pork.
It’s Honor who ends up answering him. She goes, ‘We’ve arrived, Leo! This is where we’re going on our mystery tour!’
She’s great with her brothers. How could anyone believe she was capable of hurting a baby?
‘There’s a smell of focking shite,’ Brian goes.
And I’m there, ‘That’s because we’re in Meath!’
Johnny’s face definitely dorkens. He goes, ‘Daddy, I want to go home,’ because he’s a nervous kid and I’ve raised my boys to be wary of anything that happens north of Exit 13 on the M50.
Honor’s there, ‘You won’t want to go home when you find out what we’re doing today! Boys, this is Tayto Pork!’
Their little faces light up. And the screams out of them. At the top of his voice, Leo is like, ‘Focking focking fock fock focking focker!’ punching the back of the seat in front of him.
Honor laughs. She goes, ‘We knew you’d be excited!’
I open the back door and they pour out of the cor like sailors on shore leave. They peg it towards the entrance – Brian and Leo snorling and spitting and borking out random swear words at the top of their voices.
I slam the cor door shut.
‘By the way,’ Honor goes, ‘I talked to Erika on, like, FaceTime this morning. She’s so excited about me coming. She has loads of amazing ideas for my YouTube channel.’
I’m there, ‘I wonder will people miss me, though?’ and I can hear the pettiness in my voice when I say it. ‘I wonder will people stort unsubscribing in massive, massive numbers because they miss our whole vibe?’
‘Oh my God, you should see the house where Erika and Helen are living! She, like, walked me around it while I was talking to her!’
‘Nice?’
‘Oh my God – huge! They’ve got, like, two swimming pools – one indoor and one outdoor!’
‘I get very bored in swimming pools. I think I like the idea of swimming pools more than I like actual swimming pools?’
We stort walking towards the gates, where I notice the boys are terrorizing the poor dude who’s dressed in the giant Mr Tayto costume.
‘She’s also going to bring me horse-riding!’ Honor goes. ‘She’s got, like, four horses!’
I’m there, ‘You’ve always hated horses. We took you to the Dublin Horse Show when you were, like, six and you laughed your head off every time a horse crashed into a fence. We were eventually asked to leave.’
‘You were laughing as well.’
‘All I’m saying is that the grass isn’t always greener – and blah, blah, blah.’
We join the queue, then we watch – along with everyone else – as the boys manage to get Mr Tayto down on the ground. Brian gets down on his hands and knees behind him and Leo gives him a shove so that Mr Tayto falls onto his back. Then we all laugh – well, I certainly do – at the sight of him trying to get up again. It’s genuinely comical.
He’s still lying there on his back, his two little legs kicking in the air while the three of them set about him.
We eventually reach the top of the queue.
I’m handing my credit cord to the dude in the booth, going, ‘Do you know is Heineken served anywhere on the premises?’ when he turns around to me and goes, ‘I’m sorry, your children can’t come in here.’
I’m there, ‘Excuse me?’
‘They’re barred from Tayto Park.’
‘Borred? What are you talking about?’
He pushes a laminated piece of paper across the counter at me, featuring – yeah, no – CCTV images of various children, including, at the very top of the list, Brian, Johnny and Leo.
‘You were here last year,’ he tries to go.
I’m there, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa – does this have anything to do with Brian and Leo spitting off the top of the rollercoaster?’
‘Spitting off the rollercoaster, spitting at the animals, spitting at other children.’
‘Okay, you’re beginning to sound like the manager of DL Kids now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the dude goes. ‘Your children will not be allowed in today – or any day.’
I decide to try to appeal to his better nature. I’m like, ‘Dude, their sister is going away to Australia tomorrow. This was supposed to be a special day for us. Our last day together as an actual family.’
‘Tell him he’s a focking dick,’ Brian goes. ‘A focking dick with ears.’
And I’m like, ‘Brian, you’re not exactly helping your case here.’
‘I’m sorry, it’s a no,’ the dude goes. ‘I’m just obeying orders.’
I’m like, ‘Dude, please. We’ve been borred from everywhere. We’re talking Imaginosity. We’re talking The Fun Factory. We’re talking Stillorgan Bowl. We’re talking Dublin Zoo. There’s literally nowhere I can bring them to let them just run amok.’
He goes, ‘Please step aside, Sir! Next in line, please!’
And that ends up being that. I turn around and I go, ‘Come on, let’s go,’ and we walk back to the cor, stepping over Mr Tayto on the way.
The boys don’t go quietly either. Leo’s like, ‘The fock are we going now?’
And I’m like, ‘Home, Leo. Because you’ve spoiled the day for everyone.’
Brian goes, ‘This is some focking bullshit.’
And t
hat’s when I end up totally losing it with them. I go, ‘I’ll tell you what’s some focking bullshit – the fact that you ruin absolutely focking everything! The fact that we can’t enjoy one last day out with your sister, who’s going to Australia tomorrow!’
I realize that I’m pointing my finger at them and I’m roaring at them – this is in the middle of the Tayto Pork cor pork.
I’m there, ‘I’m sick of you! I’ve had it up to here with you! The constant effing and blinding! The spitting! The bullying other kids! And I’m telling you that it stops! I’m telling you that it stops now!’
Oh, that does the trick. The three of them look at me with their mouths open in literally just, like, shock?
Honor goes, ‘Boys, get in the cor. I want to talk to Dad for a minute.’
They do as they’re told. Like I said, she’s great with them.
‘Okay,’ Honor goes, ‘what was that?’
I’m there, ‘I can’t believe you’re going and leaving me with those focking idiot kids.’
‘They’re not idiots.’
‘They are idiots. Let’s call a spade a spade here.’
She goes, ‘Dad, what’s wrong?’
And that’s when it happens. I had a feeling it was coming. Yeah, no, the floodgates just open and I’m suddenly standing there in literally tears.
Honor’s like, ‘Dad?’
And I’m there, ‘I’m sorry, Honor. It’s just you’re going away tomorrow and it’s like –’
‘What?’
‘It’s like you’re not even sad. It’s like you’re not even going to miss me. You’re banging on about horses and Jacuzzis and what Erika’s going to do for your brand.’
‘Of course I’m going to miss you!’
‘Horses are shit. I’ve always said it. They’re probably the most overrated animals on the planet.’
She’s like, ‘Dad, I’m going to miss you, okay?’ and then – holy shit – she ends up bursting into tears and just throwing her orms around me.
I’m there, ‘Really?’
She looks up at me and goes, ‘Dad, you’re my best friend.’
‘That’s a lovely thing for me to hear.’
‘You’re the only one who doesn’t judge me, even when I’m being really, really horrible.’
‘And I’ll go on not judging you, Honor. I can promise you that. Just don’t go away.’
‘I have to go away. I can’t bear to live in that house any more. I’ll focking kill someone.’
‘I still don’t want you to go.’
‘I know.’
She breaks away from me and she dries her eyes with the palm of her hand. I do the same.
I’m there, ‘I probably owe the boys an apology for the way I lost it with them.’
She goes, ‘I’m sure they’ll understand, Dad.’
‘I just wanted today to be special, you know? A day we’ll always remember.’
‘We can go somewhere else.’
‘They’re borred from everywhere else.’
‘We can do something outdoorsy, then. Let’s go to Killiney Hill. We could have a picnic – then the boys could set fire to the gorse.’
I’m like, ‘That’s a great idea. Thanks, Honor.’
We stort walking back to the cor. I open the door. From the back seat, I hear Leo go, ‘Focking crying, look!’
And Brian’s like, ‘What! A focking! Pussy!’
Honor is determined not to cry. She wouldn’t give Sorcha’s old pair the pleasure. So she pretends that she’s not sad to be leaving. She practically sprints from the bag drop area to the deporture gate while Sorcha follows a few feet behind, saying shit to ease her own conscience.
She’s going, ‘This could be the best thing that ever happened to you, Honor. There’s a saying that travel broadens the mind. It was visiting the European Porliament in Strasbourg when I was exactly your age that awakened my interest in politics.’
Honor just keeps walking. It’s like she’s terrified that her old dear might change her mind about letting her go. And Sorcha’s old pair clearly have the same fear because they’ve decided to tag along just to make sure the girl gets on the plane.
He’s in Sorcha’s ear, going, ‘It’s the best thing for everyone, Dorling. You just need to keep your resolve for a few minutes more.’
I turn around to Ronan and I go, ‘He’ll be lucky if I don’t deck him today. No one can say it hasn’t been coming for years.’
Ronan goes, ‘Joost keep the head, Rosser. Do you think Hodor wants that to be her last memody of howum – you belting her grandda?’
And I’m there, ‘I do actually. I think that’s exactly what she’d want.’
I’m suddenly looking around me for the old pair. They were supposed to be here to see Honor off but they’re cutting it fine.
I’m there, ‘Did the old man say they were definitely coming?’
And Ronan goes, ‘He’s joost arthur thexting me from the keer, Rosser. Thee’d an appointment in the clidic this morden. He said they’re about foyuv midutes away.’
Up the escalator we go, me pulling Honor’s gold Rimowa carry-on case behind me. Ro decides to give us a moment because when we reach the deportures area he hangs back. Honor stops, turns around and tries to take her case from me.
She goes, ‘Dad, let go.’
But I’m there, ‘I can’t.’
And I literally can’t? I’m gripping the handle like it’s glued to my palm.
Honor just smiles at me kindly and goes, ‘Let’s not give them the satisfaction, okay?’
I look over my shoulder. Sorcha’s old man is stepping off the escalator just in front of Sorcha and Sorcha’s old dear and it’s genuinely the happiest I’ve ever seen him.
So I let go of the case and Honor takes it from me. I bend down and I give her a hug. I go, ‘What am I going do without you, Honor?’
She’s there, ‘You’ll be fine.’
I’m like, ‘I genuinely don’t think I will. Everything’s shit when you’re not around.’
She goes, ‘You’ve got the boys,’ and she looks over my shoulder, smiling into the mid-distance, where Brian, Johnny and Leo have spotted the foreign currency dump bin. They’re, like, rocking the thing backwards and forwards, trying to knock it over to get at the notes and coins inside.
‘They’re focking morons,’ I go. ‘I hate to say it, Honor, but there’s fock-all in their heads.’
Sorcha arrives over to us, her parents just behind her. She goes, ‘And make sure you write to me, will you?’
Honor’s there, ‘Who the fock writes to anyone any more?’
And those end up being her final words to her old dear. Sorcha tries to hug her, but Honor just stiffens.
Then a woman in an Aer Lingus uniform, who isn’t great – and that’s me being kind – walks over to us and goes, ‘Are you the little girl who’s travelling to Australia alone?’
Honor’s like, ‘Yeah?’ like she’s ready for a fight. ‘So?’
The woman crouches down to Honor’s level. ‘I’m Una Falvey!’ she goes, in a really patronizing voice. ‘And I’m going to be chaperoning you all the way to Perth in the absence of your lovely mummy! Me and you are going to have so much fun, do you hear me? And if there’s anything you need, you just have to ask.’
Honor shoots her a look that would make a seagull think twice.
‘What I need,’ she goes, ‘is lots and lots of shut the fock up. You keep that coming and you and me will get on just fine.’
That poor woman. That poor, poor woman.
Honor goes, ‘Goodbye, Ronan.’
Ro gives her an unbelievable hug. He’s there, ‘Stay ourra thrubble, do you hear me? And give me lub to Edika.’
She’s like, ‘I’ll FaceTime you tomorrow, okay?’
There’s an enormous crash then. It’s the sound of breaking glass. The boys have managed to tip over the foreign currency dump bin and it’s shattered into about a million pieces. Sorcha’s old man, out of the corner of his m
outh, goes, ‘I wonder could she take those three with her as well?’ and Sorcha’s old dear laughs and goes, ‘I was thinking the exact same thing!’
Honor calls Brian, Johnny and Leo over. She’s like, ‘Boys?’ and they instantly come running – at the same time stuffing fistfuls of notes into their already full pockets. They throw their orms around their sister and she gives them each a kiss on the top of the head. She goes, ‘Look after your daddy for me, will you?’
And that should be that. Except right at the last second, who comes tearing up the escalator, going, ‘Wait! Just a minute! Don’t go yet!’ but my old pair.
Honor goes running to them. I look at Sorcha’s old man, who just rolls his eyes and goes, ‘I mean, how long is this going to take?’
It must kill him to see how well she gets on with my old pair?
The old dear goes, ‘We couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye!’ She can be alright, my old dear.
Honor’s there, ‘Thanks, Fionnuala!’
My old man hands her – honestly – a brick of bank notes. He goes, ‘Just a little – quote-unquote – spending money from Fionnuala and I! And don’t worry, Dorling, it’s just below the amount that it’s permissible to carry without it constituting laundering!’
You can see poor Una Falvey looking at us, thinking, They’re some focking family.
Honor hugs my old pair – first my old man, then my old dear. Then she takes her case and she morches confidently through the deporture gate with Una running after her to keep up, not even looking back once.
It takes all the self-control I have not to burst into tears? I can’t say the same for Sorcha. She ends up totally losing her shit. She turns to her old dear and goes, ‘She’s gone! My little girl has gone!’ and her old man goes, ‘It’s for the best, Dorling. We’ll all sleep easier knowing that she’s not plotting to murder us in our beds.’
My old dear goes, ‘You must be so sad, Ross,’ and it’s like she wants me to cry? ‘But never mind. We had some wonderful news this morning about your father’s semen.’
That’s literally what she says.
I’m like, ‘What?’ as in, why the fock are you telling me this now?
The old man goes, ‘That’s right, Kicker! According to the clinic, my sperm count is now exactly where it needs to be!’
Schmidt Happens Page 20