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“Really? Where is it, son?”
“It’s on Langhaul Avenue.”
Mum’s eyes shine excitedly. “That’s just around the corner from us!”
“Ah, Mum, it’s a really gorgeous house. You’ll love it!” Fin grabs the sleeve of her jacket. “You could come over for tea all the time.”
“Um, houses around us don’t go cheap. How much is it?” Dad’s brows are furrowed.
“Eh, it’s seven hundred thousand euro.”
“Seven hundred!” Dad sputters and Mum’s lips form a silent O. “That would be some hefty monthly mortgage payments.”
“Well, surely the proceeds of the jewellery campaign should be a very good deposit.”
Dad’s sighs. “I doubt it will be anywhere near what you need, son. And remember you’ll have to deduct tax from it.”
“Tax? Why would I have to pay tax? I’m an artist!”
I can’t hold back a snicker, and Fin shoots daggers at me. Artists – real artists – are exempt from tax up to a specific threshold. That’s why so many famous people have moved to Ireland. Vivi Doyle told me this when Aidan brought me to Grogan’s pub to meet his artist friend who had a painting in the National Gallery. I was star struck, and a bit uncomfortable being in such a grubby bar, but it didn’t take long before Ifelt almost at home. As we discussed different art mediums, I wished I had worn my animal print bohemian skirt instead of a boring dark grey one. In the bathroom, I undid a button of my blouse. Vivi had smirked behind her pint of Bulmer’s when Aidan explained that I was his business partner’s daughter and he was mentoring me. I think she knew some other kind of mentoring is also going on, especially after he draped his arm on the back of the booth, and I caught her glancing at his fingers playing with my hair.
“We’re a business, Fin. We’re not granted artist’s tax relief.” Dad sighs.
“But…”
“That’s the way it is. Trust me on this.”
“It’s not fair,” my brother whines.
Fin’s childish behaviour is grating on my nerves, and my parents only encourage it instead of making him man up. They always pick on me and call me a child because I daydream so much, but Fin acts like a perpetual child. It used to make me sad and jealous the way they fuss around him, but now it’s started to make me angry.You want to hurt them back.Aidan’s words from so long ago. Is what I’m doing still about hurting my parents?
“We’ll figure something out.” My mum pats Fin’s arm then tries to change the direction of conversation. “Oh, there’s the O’Reillys. We got Sally’s wedding invitation through the post there. An autumn wedding, can you imagine!”
“Yes, that’s quite unusual,” I agree. Everyone wants to be a spring bride.
“Well, autumn wedding or not, look how she carries herself, all poised and angelic. You could learn a thing or two from her, Caitlin.”
I could learn how to bully people, I think bitterly. “I’m sure Sally has had a round or two in the sack with her fiancé already.”
Mum gasps. “Caitlin! Watch that mouth.”
“Sorry, Mum.” I bite my lip. I can’t believe I let those words slip.
Mum leans closer and whispers, “And what do you mean? Have you heard any rumours?”
“No, not at all.” I shake my head vigorously.
“Caitlin, I expect you to behave better than starting unfounded rumours,” Dad chimes in. “How am I to marry you off when you talk and behave like someone from the streets?”
My nails dig into my palms as I try to keep my tone even. “You’re not supposed to marry off your daughter in this day and age.”
“No one wants to marry a woman that’s this outspoken. Seen but not heard, Caitlin.Seen, not heard!”
I clench my teeth together. The injustice is churning in my belly, and the guilt I felt for lying about Tuesday night all but evaporates.
It will serve them right.
“You can’t marry her off before me,” Fin insists. “I’m the oldest and should be married first.”
