Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [92]
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry! My apologies, please forgive me. Anyway, shall I wear this suit or be more casual?’ A vision of Sandro draping a jacket over his front swam before Fintan’s exhausted eyes.
‘Who cares?’ he said, weakly. ‘Haven’t we more important things to worry about?’
‘I’m polishing the ashtrays on the Titanic,’ Sandro had replied.
Now Fintan summoned him from the shadows. ‘Sandro,’ he said formally, from the bed, ‘this is my mammy, JaneAnn, my brother Milo and another brother, Timothy.’
Sandro raised his hand nervously, ‘Ciao, hello, pleased to meet you… er…’
‘Sandro is my…’ meaningful pause from Fintan ‘… friend.’
‘You’re doing a line with Fintan?’ JaneAnn understood.
Sandro was horrified. ‘We never do drugs,’ he lied haughtily.
‘No, no, no,’ Fintan explained. ‘She means are you my boyfriend?’
‘Oh! Oh, now I understand! Yes, Mrs O’Grady, I’m doing the line with Fintan.’
‘And where is it you’re from?’ JaneAnn pressed gently.
‘Italy. Roma.’
‘Rome! Have you ever met the Pope?’
‘Mammy.’ Fintan flapped an arm at JaneAnn.
‘But I have met Il Papa,’ Sandro surprised him by saying. ‘Well, there were many other people there, but I heard Mass in St Peter’s Square with my mother.’
‘You’re blessed.’ JaneAnn stared at him. ‘Was it beautiful?’
‘Beautiful,’ Sandro confirmed, wondering should he expound on the gorgeous purple frock His Holiness had worn, but on second thoughts deciding it might be better not to. Things were going much, much better than he could have expected, so there was no point in blowing it.
Milo cornered the doctor-on-duty, in his office. He spoke so quietly Dr Singh could barely hear him.
‘I’m Fintan’s eldest brother,’ Milo explained, looking at his lap. ‘I’ve nearly been a father to him, I know about Aids. Just because we’re a crowd of Paddies from the bogs, don’t think we don’t know. And what’s more we’re well able to deal with it.’
Dr Singh was a busy man who had been on duty for thirty-two hours. He wasn’t inclined to be patient. By the time Milo returned to the ward, he was quite certain Fintan didn’t have Aids.
At about seven thirty, just as all six of them were preparing to leave and let Fintan go to sleep, there came the sound of running feet down the corridor. It was Liv, her long hair flying, her skin pink, her eyes intensely blue. She looked like a warrior queen. When she saw the throng around Fintan’s bed, she gasped to a halt.
‘Liv,’ Fintan called graciously from the bed, ‘come in, come in. That’s my mammy, that’s Timothy, my brother, and Milo, another brother.’
‘Hello.’ Liv sounded very precise, very Swedish. ‘How do you do?’ She shook hands with all three of them and when she got to Milo she stared.
‘Excuse me,’ she apologized. ‘I’m startled… You look so like Fintan.’
‘Faith, no, Fintan’s the handsome one.’ Milo shrugged, with a slow smile. ‘I’m just a poor imitation. I’m a… What do you call those things? A bootleg.’
‘Not at all,’ Fintan croaked gallantly. ‘I model myself on you.’
There was certainly a family resemblance – they both had dark-blue eyes and black hair, although Milo’s looked like it had been cut by a lawn-mower.
‘Any luck?’ Fintan asked Liv.
‘I got them.’ She handed a carrier bag to Fintan, who took out two exquisite goblets in lime-green and turquoise glass.
‘What are they?’ Tara asked.
‘I came here two hours ago and he was upset by the ugliness of his water-glasses,’ Liv explained.
‘And I’d seen these ones in Elle Decoration,’ Fintan took up the story. ‘So Liv, sound woman, went to the Conran Shop for me.’
‘Did you have to go far?’ Milo asked.
Liv pinkened. ‘They didn’t have them in the Michelin building, so I got a cab to the one in Marylebone High Street and they didn’t have them there either. But luckily – you’ve guessed it! – they had them in Heal’s.’
Milo, the man who’d barely been east of the Shannon before in his life, nodded knowledgeably. Yes, his nod seemed to say. Yes, but of course, Heal’s was the obvious choice, you did exactly the right thing.
‘Come on, we’d better go.’ Tara stood up and looked around at the others.