Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [45]
After several false starts – Molly wanted to wear her hat, Craig had to go back in and get his Buzz Lightyear – Clodagh hurriedly piled them both into the Nissan Micra. As soon as she put the key in the ignition, Molly screeched, ‘I have to go wee-wee.’
‘But you’ve just gone.’ Clodagh’s exasperation was heightened by the fear of running into Flor.
‘But I have to go again.’
Molly was only recently toilet-trained, and the novelty of her new-found skill hadn’t worn off yet.
‘Come on, then.’ Roughly, Clodagh bundled Molly from her car-seat and hustled her back into the house, turning off the alarm she’d only just set. As predicted, despite much contorting of her face and promises that ‘It’s coming,’ Molly couldn’t summon any wee-wee. Back to the car again and away they went.
After she’d dropped Craig at school, Clodagh wasn’t sure where to go. Usually on Mondays, she dumped Molly in playgroup and took herself off to the gym for a couple of hours. But not today. Molly had been suspended for a week from playgroup for biting another child, and the gym had no crèche. Clodagh decided to go into town and go around the shops until it was safe to go home. The day was sunny and mother and daughter traipsed slowly up Grafton Street, stopping – at Molly’s urging – to stroke a homeless boy’s dog, admire a flower stall and dance to a fiddle player. Passers-by smiled indulgently at the beautiful Molly, cute and ludicrous in her pink, furry, deerstalker hat, attempting to do Riverdance.
As they made their way up the street Clodagh was in a pocket of besottedness, her heart swollen and sore with love. Molly was so funny, with her little sergeant major’s strut, marching along with her chest puffed out, wanting to befriend every child she encountered. It wasn’t always easy being a mother, Clodagh admitted dreamily. But at times like this she wouldn’t change her life for anything.
The paper seller openly admired the short, shapely woman trailing a small girl in her wake.
‘Herald?’ he offered hopefully.
Clodagh looked at it with regret. ‘But what would be the point?’ She elaborated. ‘I haven’t had time to read a paper since 1996.’
‘Not much profit in buying one so,’ the paperman agreed, appreciating the back view of Clodagh as she walked away from him.
She knew he was watching her and it felt surprisingly good. His bold, roguish stare stirred memories of when men used to look at her like that all the time. It felt like a very long time ago, almost as if it had happened to someone else.
But what was she doing? Getting excited because a newspaper seller had given her the glad eye?
You’re married, she scolded herself.
Yeah, she answered wryly, married alive.
It took a contented hour and a half to reach the Stephen’s Green Centre and by then, according to the law of averages, Molly and Clodagh were due a bust-up. Sure enough, when Clodagh wouldn’t buy Molly a second ice-cream, Molly promptly threw the mother of all tantrums. She behaved as though she was having an epileptic fit, thrashing about on the floor, banging her head on the tiles, screeching abuse. Clodagh tried to pull her up but Molly wriggled like an octopus. ‘I hate you!’ she screamed and though Clodagh was ashrivel with embarrassment, she forced herself to speak in a steady voice, assuring Molly that a second ice-cream would give her a stomach-ache and promising that if she didn’t get up and behave herself immediately, she’d be going to bed early every night for the next week.
Scores of hard-faced mothers passed, laden with children, whom they cuffed and hit on an automatic rota. ‘Hey, Jason,’ Ddush! ‘leave Tamara alone.’ Smackkk! ‘Zoe,’ Thump! ‘if I catch you at Brooklyn again I’ll fucking kill you.’ Clouttt! With their scornful looks, the women derided Clodagh’s liberal principles. Give that brat a good