Page 62 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin

‘Oh. My. God. Wait! Wait! Wait until you see Peter R. He has totally trans—’ Then Kathleen clocks me. ‘Oh, Grace! Hey, there! Now, excuse me, but – and this is fact – before you reprimand me, we had this conversation at your flat, right? About dieting brides?’

‘We did,’ I say, one eye closed as I thread the eye of the needle. I’m straight down to business and actually relieved.

Kathleen snaps her fingers. ‘Girl! I didn’t tell Belinda not to eat anything while she was juicing! This is not getting pinned on me. I just wanted to help her skin glow. Beauty comes from within.’ Kathleen plops down, somehow elegantly, on the double bed, crosses her legs, adjusts the gold material over her knees and flexes her ankles.

‘No blame. It’s all right. I’ve done this a million times. You look stunning by the way,’ I tell her.

‘I know. I’ve been Insta-storying in my room. The comments I’m getting are insane! I feel so beautiful and, surprisingly, comfortable!’

‘Good, that’s always my aim! Now, Belinda, put the Coke down. Put the can far, far away,’ I order. A bride with a can of Coke triggers me like you wouldn’t believe.

‘I wasn’t hungry, though, was I? I was stuffed with all dem fancy juices,’ Belinda shoots back at her youngest sister. ‘Plus, I was never off the loo!’

‘But I said one or two juices a day, Belinda, not ten. You were guzzling them!’ Kathleen’s phone rings out in her dainty hand.

‘Ahh, so what, Yogi Bear!’ Belinda turns to face at me. ‘Once I knew you were on the way, the panic left me. I’ve missed ya. Do you know that? Is that weird?’ She drains the can of Coke, shakes the tin and hands it over to Kathleen, who’s chatting on the phone and sounding very American with lots of, ‘I know, riiiiiiight? I know, riiiiiiight? I know, riiiiiiiight?’ questioning.

‘No, it’s not weird at all. I’ve missed you, too,’ I tell hertruthfully, this has never happened to me before. I’ve never grown so attached to my clients.

‘Maybe we can go for a coffee and split a Rocky Road next week?’ she suggests, again holding back a burp.

‘I’d love that!’ I tell her, delighted.

‘Swear it’s not weird that I’m askin’ ya that? Like, I always imagine midwives get invited for coffee loads of times by epidural-infused new mothers?’

‘I swear it’s not weird at all, but I’ve never been asked before.’ I hold the needle aloft.

Her face stretches into the biggest smile. ‘No way? That’s mad? So maybe we do actually have a real bond?’

‘I think we do, Belinda.’ I return the smile brightly at her.

Kathleeen ends her call. ‘You were supposed to come up to my room to do a class with me and Peter R. this morning,’ she tells Belinda. She pauses to drop the can into a plastic bin bag hanging off the doorknob. ‘He brought a spare mat for you. You were a no-show. Peter R. said it was an omen.’ Kathleen now starts tapping out a message, one-handed, head down, her thumbs ablur.

Belinda’s face clouds over. ‘I can’t listen to him go on anymore about that stupid wagon. He breaks my heart. I’d love to get my hands on her! I’d show her!’ She waves a fist around angrily.

‘What’s this?’ I ask, intrigued as always by the drama the Kearneys seem to have going on at all times in their world.

‘Our brother. He broke up with his girlfriend. We like to be involved in his love life. He does not like it, though.’ Kathleen looks up at me.

‘Who was that you were on the phone to? Was that him?’ Belinda asks her.

‘Come on. Up. Stand up,’ I say now as I equal the lengths of the white thread again. ‘Time to get on with the necessary .?.?.Gossip later.’

Belinda immediately stands up.

‘No, actually that was a client in LA,’ Kathleen says. ‘Abigone. Very interesting convo. Listen, Peter R.’s okay, he’s much stronger than we give him credit for. He had to put himself back out there and he’s glad he did. Now! Wait, oh my God, just wait till you see him, he—’

‘Stop talking about him, Kathleen! I’ll fuckin’ cry and it’ll ruin my make-up!’ Belinda fans a hand in front of her eyes to stop any tears.

‘Girl! You asked me,’ she throws back.

‘Well, don’t answer me!’ Belinda swings her arms.

‘Stay still. Please?’ I implore.

‘He’s a big boy, he can handle it. Stop babying him,’ Kathleen continues.

‘He really liked her! He thought she really liked him, too; the horrible, conniving cow!’ Belinda stamps her foot.