Read Online From Here to Maternity by Sinéad Moriarty - Free Book Online
Authors: Sinéad Moriarty
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bridge cronies that Shadee was English with a drop of foreign blood. Just as Shadee’s parents were probably telling their friends that Sean was Irish but had lived in London most of his life.
‘Any news on the wedding? He tells me nothing any more,’ she continued, probing me for information. Sean had told me that they were going to have it all booked before he came home for Christmas next week, but I decided to remain vague. I didn’t fancy having to listen to a tirade of ‘Why couldn’t they get married in Ireland? Was it not good enough for them?’
‘I think they’re still looking around. I’m not sure, really.’
‘And would they not look around here? With all the beautiful castles and churches they could have a spectacular wedding. Oh, no, I suppose it’s not good enough. It has to be some fancy place in England. I don’t know why he wouldn’t even look at your cousin Pat’s hotel in Wexford. It’s a lovely spot.’
Cousin Pat’s hotel in Wexford was a dump. Mum had tried to strong-arm me into getting married there, but when James and I had gone down to check it out, the stench of boiled cabbage and the nylon sheets on the beds had been enough to send us hurtling out. Mum thought everything should be kept in the family and I admired her loyalty – but there was no way I was getting married there and neither would Sean.
‘Mum,’ I said firmly, ‘you should be thanking your lucky stars that they aren’t getting married in Tehran. Leave it be and don’t stick your oar in.’
‘I never interfere in my children’s lives,’ said Mum, looking genuinely put out as I choked on my tea. She fussed over Yuri for a bit, then asked, ‘And will all her relatives be coming over from Iran covered with the big black sheets?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I suppose there’s no chance she’ll convert to Catholicism?’
‘Highly unlikely.’
‘But Sean won’t become a Muslim, will he?’
‘No, Mum, he won’t.’
‘Well, then, what’ll the wedding ceremony be?’
‘I have no idea. Maybe a blessing of some sort.’
‘In a Catholic church?’
‘Or a mosque.’
‘A mosque! Lord save us and bless us, that Taliban crowd and your man Osama bun Ladle will be turning up next.’
‘Mum!’
Chapter 8
A few days later when James came home from work, he found me on my hands and knees with my finger in an electric socket. ‘Wouldn’t a bottle of sleeping pills be a more civilized way to go? Less messy,’ said our in-house comedian, as he threw himself onto the couch and kicked off his runners.
‘Stop, please, you’re cracking me up,’ I said, poking my little finger further in.
‘All right, let me guess. You read that electrocution restores energy to the body. Am I right?’
‘No. To cut a long story short I was ironing in the kitchen with Yuri sitting on the floor playing with his toys when the next thing I knew he had his head in the cupboard under the sink, had pulled out the bottle of bleach and was sucking the cap. Once I had recovered from the shock I realized that this house is a danger zone. Tracey says that – ’
‘Who’s Tracey?’
‘Tracey Hogg, The Baby Whisperer.’
‘The what?’
‘The book, James! The one that gave us the instructions about bathing Yuri. Anyway, she said that once the baby is crawling, your house must be childproofed and that the best way to do this is by crawling around on your hands and knees and seeing what your baby sees at his level. Apparently there are loads of things we need to be careful of – poisoning, which we almost had today, airborne pollutants, strangling, electric shock, which I was testing when you came in, drowning, burning, falling and bashing into things with sharp corners.’
‘Airborne pollutants?’ said James, trying not to laugh.
‘Yes, James, and I would imagine they include the toxic smell of your sweaty socks, so please either put your runners back on or wash your feet. After that you can prove your prowess at
‘Any news on the wedding? He tells me nothing any more,’ she continued, probing me for information. Sean had told me that they were going to have it all booked before he came home for Christmas next week, but I decided to remain vague. I didn’t fancy having to listen to a tirade of ‘Why couldn’t they get married in Ireland? Was it not good enough for them?’
‘I think they’re still looking around. I’m not sure, really.’
‘And would they not look around here? With all the beautiful castles and churches they could have a spectacular wedding. Oh, no, I suppose it’s not good enough. It has to be some fancy place in England. I don’t know why he wouldn’t even look at your cousin Pat’s hotel in Wexford. It’s a lovely spot.’
Cousin Pat’s hotel in Wexford was a dump. Mum had tried to strong-arm me into getting married there, but when James and I had gone down to check it out, the stench of boiled cabbage and the nylon sheets on the beds had been enough to send us hurtling out. Mum thought everything should be kept in the family and I admired her loyalty – but there was no way I was getting married there and neither would Sean.
‘Mum,’ I said firmly, ‘you should be thanking your lucky stars that they aren’t getting married in Tehran. Leave it be and don’t stick your oar in.’
‘I never interfere in my children’s lives,’ said Mum, looking genuinely put out as I choked on my tea. She fussed over Yuri for a bit, then asked, ‘And will all her relatives be coming over from Iran covered with the big black sheets?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I suppose there’s no chance she’ll convert to Catholicism?’
‘Highly unlikely.’
‘But Sean won’t become a Muslim, will he?’
‘No, Mum, he won’t.’
‘Well, then, what’ll the wedding ceremony be?’
‘I have no idea. Maybe a blessing of some sort.’
‘In a Catholic church?’
‘Or a mosque.’
‘A mosque! Lord save us and bless us, that Taliban crowd and your man Osama bun Ladle will be turning up next.’
‘Mum!’
Chapter 8
A few days later when James came home from work, he found me on my hands and knees with my finger in an electric socket. ‘Wouldn’t a bottle of sleeping pills be a more civilized way to go? Less messy,’ said our in-house comedian, as he threw himself onto the couch and kicked off his runners.
‘Stop, please, you’re cracking me up,’ I said, poking my little finger further in.
‘All right, let me guess. You read that electrocution restores energy to the body. Am I right?’
‘No. To cut a long story short I was ironing in the kitchen with Yuri sitting on the floor playing with his toys when the next thing I knew he had his head in the cupboard under the sink, had pulled out the bottle of bleach and was sucking the cap. Once I had recovered from the shock I realized that this house is a danger zone. Tracey says that – ’
‘Who’s Tracey?’
‘Tracey Hogg, The Baby Whisperer.’
‘The what?’
‘The book, James! The one that gave us the instructions about bathing Yuri. Anyway, she said that once the baby is crawling, your house must be childproofed and that the best way to do this is by crawling around on your hands and knees and seeing what your baby sees at his level. Apparently there are loads of things we need to be careful of – poisoning, which we almost had today, airborne pollutants, strangling, electric shock, which I was testing when you came in, drowning, burning, falling and bashing into things with sharp corners.’
‘Airborne pollutants?’ said James, trying not to laugh.
‘Yes, James, and I would imagine they include the toxic smell of your sweaty socks, so please either put your runners back on or wash your feet. After that you can prove your prowess at
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