The Bright Side (34 page)

“You,” she said as she arrived in our airspace. Before I could even blink, much less respond, she brought her palm down on the table in way that sounded like it must have hurt. “Yeah,
you
.
”

I looked up at her
.

“What’s your problem?” she said
.

“Excuse
me
,”
Melissa
puffed.
“You’re
frightening
my
son.”
In
fact,
Niall
was
looking
at
the
new
arrival
without
the slightest
trace
of
apprehension.
If
anything,
he
seemed
to
be
enjoying
her
obvious
fury
.

“And what about my son and daughter?” the woman hissed. “What about
them
? Are they not entitled to have their lunch in peace without people staring at them like they were animals in a zoo?” Her mouth puckered as she remembered where she was. She carried on regardless. “Just because they’ve got a weight problem, that doesn’t give anyone the right –
”

“I’m
sorry,”
I
said.
“I
wasn’t
looking
over
because
they’re
because
of
their
weight.
They
just
caught
my
eye
because they
were
arguing.
”

“Bullshit!” she cried. “You’re lying.
”

“Steady on there!” Colm said, putting his arm around Niall’s shoulders. I sneaked a peek at the other table. The kids had stopped arguing and resumed shovelling food
.

“First
of
all,”
Melissa
said,
“don’t
you
dare
call
my
sister
a liar.
And
second
of
all,
if
you’re
all
that
concerned
about
your
children’s
weight,
then
maybe
you
shouldn’t
be
buying
them burgers
and
chips
and
great
big
flippin’
Cokes.
”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” the woman spat (literally – a small globule landed by the remains of Colm’s sandwich). “I’ll feed my kids whatever I want to feed them. And for your information, they happen to
like
burgers and chips and Cokes.
”

She said this with such confidence that it took me a moment to realise that it was nonsense. Melissa got there way ahead of me
.

“Oh, well that’s all right then!” she said. “Sure it doesn’t matter what you give them so long as they
like
it, isn’t that right? For a minute there, I thought you were force-feeding them rubbish against their will. But they
like
it, you say? God, I
apologise
. I had no idea,
please
forgive me.
”

I got the impression that the woman wasn’t used to dealing with sarcasm on this scale. It seemed to defuse, or at least confuse, her for a long couple of seconds. Then she returned her attention to me and started barking again, this time at even greater volume. “You’re so bloody smug, aren’t you? Little Miss Perfect, passing judgement on everyone else’s shortcomings. Have you taken a look in the mirror yourself lately?
”

This, I desperately hoped, was a reference to my hairstyle and not my face. I decided immediately that it was not worth responding to
.

Melissa decided otherwise. She cleared her throat and leaned forward on her elbows
.

“If
I
were
you,”
she
said
softly,
“I
would
apologise
for
that
remark.
Then
I
would
turn
around
and
walk
away.
Right now.”
And
then
she
smiled,
sort
of.
I
felt
goose-bumps popping
up
on
my
arms.
Right
before
my
eyes,
she’d
turned into
Tony
Soprano
.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. She sucked on her lips for a moment, then turned and walked away, mumbling something under her breath. I didn’t quite catch it but, whatever it was, it wasn’t an apology. Despite the tension in the air, I felt mildly giddy – had my ears deceived me or had Melissa fallen back into the role of protective big sister? The fact that I’d only required her help because I’d been staring at some unfortunate fat children seemed beside the point
.

There was no doubt about it. We were really getting somewhere
.

* * *

Our
afternoon
in
the
zoo
was
much
like
our
morning.
We
adults
pretended
to
be
wildly
enthusiastic
(and
knowledgable)
about
each
and
every
one
of
the
animals, while
Niall,
for
no
obvious
reason,
veered
between
near- hysteria
and
abject
boredom.
He
was
greatly
impressed
by the
sea
lions,
for
instance
(sample
quote:
“Look
at
his
flippy- floppy
feet!”)
but
regarded
the
elephants
with
folded
arms and
a
decidedly
grim
expression.
“They’re
enormous,
aren’t they?”
his
dad
said
in
an
attempt
to
raise
the
excitement level.
“Yeah,”
Niall
sighed
from
the
depths
of
his
push-chair (his
little
legs
had
long
since
failed
him),
“really,
really
big.” He
had
no
time
for
birds
of
any
kind,
no
matter
how
extravagant but did at
least three tours of
the reptile house
.

Eventually, exhaustion overran him completely and we made our last stop of the day, in the zoo’s shop. For the first five minutes or so, all was well. Niall skipped from aisle to aisle, pointing out items of interest, which Colm duly picked up. Melissa and I hung about by the entrance, each of us long since ready to call it a day. When we heard a sudden howl, Melissa seemed to think, as I did, that it had come from a nearby animal enclosure. The truth dawned only when we saw a cardboard box appear from behind a display and strike the ceiling. We rushed over and found Niall on his side, enthusiastically kicking his father who, try as he might, couldn’t get close enough to lift the boy back onto his feet. The screaming started just as we arrived and attracted the attention of the few shoppers who had missed the flying cardboard box
.

“
Niall!
”
Colm
hissed.
“
Get
up!
Please,
son!
Please!
” “JIGSAW!”
Niall
roared
in
response.
“JIGSAW,
JIGSAW,
JIGSAW!
”

“He wants a jigsaw,” Colm explained, as if we hadn’t grasped the essentials of the current difficulty. “But it’s for ten-year-olds and up.
”

“JIGSAW!” Niall insisted and lashed out with his foot again, this time catching a stuffed gorilla square in the kisser
.

I was about to hunker down and start negotiations, reasoning (with no great confidence) that he was unlikely to lash out at a stranger the way he lashed out at his dad, but Melissa spoke up before I could make my move
.

“All right, Niall,” she said soothingly. “Get your jigsaw and we’ll go.
”

Her son was on his feet in a flash. He grabbed the box that had recently rebounded from the ceiling and ran off in the direction of the cash register
.

I bit my lip and wondered if I should say anything. The answer, I quickly decided, was yes and no; yes, I should but no, I wouldn’t. There was no way I was going to risk annoying Melissa. So I kept my trap shut and faked sudden interest in a range of Dublin Zoo keyrings
.

On the way back to the car, Melissa asked me if I’d had a good time
.

“Of course!” I said. “I had a lovely time.” “Are you sure?” she asked, slowing down
.

I slowed down too and then we both stopped. Colm looked over his shoulder, but kept pushing the buggy
.

“I’m sure,” I said. “Why?
”

She shrugged. “Ah, I don’t know, I just started to feel guilty. After the weekend you’ve had, I thought maybe you were secretly fuming that we’d dragged you out for this.
”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “It was great. Better doing this than moping around the house.
”

“So long as you’re all right.
”

“I am,” I said and smiled at her
.

She smiled back. Then she gave my shoulder a little rub. I patted the back of her hand and she withdrew it, embarrassed
.

We turned forwards again and walked off, each of us pretending that nothing had happened
.

CHAPTER
16

We
got
back
to
the
house
at
about
four.
Colm
went
out
to
do
a
bit
of
gardening,
which,
Melissa
swore, would
involve
nothing
more
than
mowing
the
lawn,
then
poking
at
various
under-performing
plants
while
frowning. Niall
went
–
or
rather
was
put
down
–
for
a
much-needed
nap.
Feeling
at
something
of
a
loose
end,
I
decided
to
have
a
bath.
It
was
there,
lying
up
to
my
nose
in
what
felt
like very
expensive
bubbles,
that
I
suddenly
remembered
it
was
a
Monday;
The
O’Mahonys
would
be
on
at
seven
thirty.
When
I
finally
dragged
myself
out
of
the
water
(which
took
a
lot
of
willpower),
I
sat
on
the
edge
of
my
bed
and
stared at
my
mobile
for
a
few
minutes.
My
reconciliation
with Melissa
was
going
great
guns.
Did
I
dare
to
try
and
push
things
with
Robert?
When
he
first
got
the
job
on
the
show,
I’d
called
him
twice
every
Monday
night,
once
to
say
how much
I
was
looking
forward
to
it
and
then
again
to
tell
him what
I
thought.
No
matter
how
sincere
my
congratulations, no
matter
how
clever
my
criticisms
of
the
script
and
his fellow
actors,
he
always
treated
me
like
a
phone
company
cold-caller.
There
was
one
occasion,
after
a
quite
spectacular
bout
of
rudeness
on
his
part,
when
I
actually said,
“Can
I
speak
to
the
person
who
pays
the
bill?”
He
didn’t
get
the
joke,
of
course,
and
took
it
as
further
evidence
that
I
was
simply
not
worth
talking
to.
I
gave
up
trying
in
the
end,
just
as
I
had
given
up
calling
over
to
his flat
.