Whose Life is it Anyway? (37 page)
Read Whose Life is it Anyway? Online
Authors: Sinead Moriarty
‘Well, get on with it. I’ve to fix my hair,’ grumbled Mum.
Dad took a deep breath. He looked nervous. ‘When Niamh announced that she was marrying Pierre and I saw that he was black and not Irish and not Catholic, I reacted very strongly, some might say badly.’
There was a murmur of agreement with that statement.
‘I was shocked to my very core,’ he continued. ‘I’d never even contemplated something like this happening. All I could see were the problems and complications that they would face as a black and white couple. The evening I met Pierre, I went over to Tadhg and Nuala’s house, and while I ranted and raged against the union, Nuala said something to me that struck home.’
‘Did I?’ said Nuala.
‘You said, “I’ve always respected and looked up to you, Mick, but now I pity you. You’re going to lose a daughter over small-mindedness and prejudice.”’
‘That’s right, I did,’ said my aunt, clearly pleased with herself.
‘And, Pierre, I overheard you saying something to your father the night of the party that also made sense. You said I saw you as a black man while you saw yourself simply as a man, and I realized you were right. I was stuck in the past, and you and Niamh are the future.’
I squeezed Pierre’s hand.
‘Annie, my wife, my rock of sense and my voice of reason, told me to stop focusing on the negative and look at how in love they were, at how happy Pierre made Niamh, at how our daughter glowed in his presence. My wife accused me of having forgotten how that kind of love makes you dizzy. How you only have eyes for each other. It’s the kind of heady love where nothing matters except being with the other person. She was wrong about that. I haven’t forgotten. I remember as if it was yesterday the way I felt about Annie when we first met,’ he said, as Mum sniffed into her hankie.
‘And when I thought about that, I realized that nothing I did or said would make a blind bit of difference to Niamh or Pierre. Because if they felt as strongly about each other as I did, and still do, about Annie, then they’re impenetrable. And as long as that love and commitment to each other holds true, they have nothing to fear.
‘It has been a long road to my enlightenment. I’ve been a blind fool, stuck in the past, in my old ways. All I ever wanted was the best for my children. Niamh has been a source of great pride to me and her mother, and I can honestly say that I’ve never been prouder of her than I am today. You’ve found a wonderful man to be your partner through life and I wish you both every happiness. You’ll have mountains to climb and crosses to bear, but I’ll be right behind you, cheering you on. I’m only sorry it’s taken me so long to see that I was wrong. So I give you both my blessing. And my only advice to you is that you never take each other for granted and never try to change each other. Oh, and let Niamh get her own way. It’ll make your life easier,’ he said to Pierre, smiling.
We sat in stunned silence for a second or two, until Pierre found his voice. ‘Mr O’Flaherty, I cannot tell you how much that means to me and, more importantly, to Niamh.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ I said, running over to hug him, tears streaming down my face. ‘Thank you.’
‘I knew he’d come round,’ said Nuala, hugging Mum.
‘He never said anything like that on my wedding day,’ Siobhan complained.
‘Jesus, even I feel a bit emotional,’ said Finn.
‘Well done, Mick,’ said Mum, kissing his cheek as he beamed at her.
‘Right, well, I could do with a drink,’ said Tadhg. ‘Anyone?’
‘Oh, my God, look at the time!’ squealed Nuala.
It was twelve o’clock. We had two hours to get ready and get to the church.
‘My parents!’ said Pierre. ‘They’re waiting at the station. I’ve got to go. See you in church, darling,’ he said, kissing me, ‘and by the way you look wonderful, even with the curlers.’
‘My hair! Mum, quick, help me,’ I said, running up the stairs, followed by Mum, Nuala and Siobhan, who was still moaning, ‘Dad said much nicer things about Niamh than he did about me, and I married a white Irish Catholic.’
‘Oh, belt up. It’s not your day,’ snapped Nuala.
Dad and I arrived to the church ten minutes late. It was jammed with every relation and friend that had ever had a cup of tea in our famous kitchen. I looked at my family, my community, my safety-net, my support group. It had been a difficult and emotional journey to get here, but as I gazed at the women and men who had been there for me all my life, I felt blessed.
These were the people who had celebrated my good times and cried with me through the bad. I could see Nuala beaming at me from under her new hat, Tadhg taking pictures of everyone for our wedding album, Finn giving me the thumbs-up, Mum fixing her hair, emotional and proud, and my cousin Mairead plucking away tunelessly on the harp.
On the other side of the church, opposite my mother, Fleur and Jean were impeccably stylish. Fleur looked radiant as she and Jean roared laughing at something Nuala was saying to them, while Tadhg took their photo.
This was my family: my loud, boisterous, talkative, loving, caring, supportive, enthusiastic, loyal, generous and kind family. I was going to miss them terribly.
I turned to Dad. ‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For coming to England and giving me the best life you could. For giving me all the opportunities I’d never have had if you’d stayed in Ballyduff. For all the personal sacrifices you made in moving to London. I want you to know that I had a great childhood and I’m really proud of everything you’ve achieved. I love both my Irish and my English cultures and I’m ready now to embrace a whole new one.’
He pretended to cough into his handkerchief, wiping his eyes as he did. Then, looking straight ahead, he took my hand and squeezed it. ‘May your children bring you as much joy as you have to me.’
I squeezed back.
We watched as my luminous pink bridesmaid made her way up the aisle followed by her five lilac children. Dad turned to me. ‘Ready, pet?’
I looked up at him and nodded.
Holding hands, we stepped forward into my future.
Acknowledgements
A book is never a one-man show, so I’d like to thank all those people who helped make it possible with their help and support.
Warmest thanks go to:
My lovely editor Patricia Deevy, who was instrumental in making this book better and for coming up with such a clever title!
Michael McLoughlin, Cliona Lewis, Brian Walker and all the team at Penguin Ireland for making the publishing process so enjoyable.
To all in the Penguin UK office, especially Helen Fraser, Tom Weldon, Naomi Fidler, Catherine Duncan and the fantastic sales, marketing and creative teams. To Hazel Orme, as always, for her incredible copy-editing.
To my agent Gillon Aitken, Kate Shaw, Sally Riley, Ayesha Karim and all at the agency for their hard work.
Thanks to my friends for their unflinching loyalty and enthusiasm, I appreciate it so much. Good friends are invaluable.
To Rachel and Danido for helping with the title.
To my nephews, Mikey, James, Jack and Sam, and my nieces Cathy and Isabel – who shout at the window of bookshops when they see the books!
To my sister Sue, to whom the book is dedicated, for being such a wonderful sister and best friend.
To my brother Mike for being my chief cheer-leader.
To all my in-laws, Jim, Auds, Gary, Bertie, Shane, DL, Agie, Jackie and Bill for being so supportive and enthusiastic.
To Mum and Dad for always being there and most of all for their unconditional love.
My biggest thanks go to Troy, for absolutely everything. And to Hugo and Geordy the jewels in my crown.
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