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“Tired,” Paul cut me off and said, reaching over to pat my hand like a little child. “She just said that she’s a bit tired. Aoife started working at The Dinniman during the summer,” he continued as by way of explanation. “She’s finding it hard to adapt to workandschool.”
“What?”No, I’m not.
“The Dinniman?”
Paul nodded. “It’s a restaurant across town.”
“It’s a pub that serves food,” I corrected, ignoring Paul’s warning glare. “I’m waitressing there a few evenings after school, and on weekends.”
“Well good for you.” Mrs. Rice smiled warmly. “It will be nice to have a bit of pocket money for yourself.”
I smiled back at her. “Yeah, I like it so far, and most of the locals are from my own area, so it’s grand really.”
“I’m always telling Paul that he should get himself a little Saturday job now that he’s in fourth year,” Mrs. Rice offered. “I think it’s important that a young person learns the value of a euro.”
“And I think it’s important that he concentrates on his studies,” Mr. Rice interjected. “He has all the money he needs from us, Rita. The law degree he has his heart set on will be earned by working hard at school, and not waiting tables in The Dinniman. Of course, I mean no offence, Aoife.”
Offense taken.
“It’s grand.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Fourth year isn’t a heavy workload year,” I heard myself add. “Most people in our year have jobs by now.”
“Perhaps, but surely not in pubs?”
I shrugged. “In lots of different places.”
Mr. Rice frowned. “And you wouldn’t consider finding work elsewhere?”
“Where would you suggest?” I bit out, flustered from his interrogation.
“Somewhere more appropriate for a girl of your age,” he offered with a wave of his hand. “Maybe a little babysitting job on Saturdays.”
“I like it at The Dinniman,” I replied, feeling my cheeks burn from the effort it was taking to restrain myself. “I make more money there than any babysitting job would pay.”
“I didn’t think a waitressing job would pay that well?”
Shows what you know, you big posh prick…
“Would you look at her, Dad,” Paul interjected with a chuckle. “She’s an asset to the place.”
“Thanks, Paul.” I beamed, feeling my stomach flip from the compliment. “I appreciate that."
“No problem, babe,” he replied, slinging an arm over the back of my chair. “Besides, one look at her with that little white shirt and short black skirt, and the owners are guaranteed to fill the bar,” Paul continued, clicking his fingers for emphasis. “Of course they’re going to pay well to keep her.”
I take it back, Paul, you big eejit.
Silently seething, I glowered at the side of his handsome side profile.
Swallowing down my discomfort, I smiled and nodded along as the conversation switched to plans of the future.
My future looked drastically different to Paul’s. There would be no University of Limerick for a degree in law on the map for me, that was for sure.
I was more than likely headed to a local further education and training college after secondary school, where I would train in hairdressing or beauty.
At least, hairdressing was the only career piquing my interest at that moment in time.
“I have to say, both of my sons have exquisite taste in the company they keep,” Mr. Rice declared then, holding his tumbler of whiskey up, and gesturing first to me and then to his oldest son Billy’s new girlfriend, Zara.
“Yeah.” I raised my water glass and resisted the urge to gag. “Here, here.”
