The waiter appeared, mercifully dispelling any lingering images of an orgasmic Myra Anand, and Ali ordered a coffee.
‘Right.’ Mini slapped her iPad cover closed. ‘How are you getting on? Still working onDirty Ole Dublin?’ Ali was certain Mini got this wrong endlessly on purpose.
‘Yep,’ she answered, tight-lipped. ‘It’s going great.’ It wasn’t a lie as such. She just had a policy of pretending to Mini thatDurty Aul’ Townwas her dream job to minimise lectures – not that this worked.
‘Alessandra, you’re stagnating. I can see it.’ Mini sighed.
‘I’m not stagnating –Durty Aul’ Townis perfect. It’s a foot in the door and it gives me lots of time to work on my other projects.’ Ali could hear herself parroting her college tutor, though she doubted anyone would count her Instagram as a ‘project’.
‘You got that foot in the door three years ago. I remember Miles was delighted – he was obviously more far gone then than we realised.’
Ali fought the desire to challenge this remark, remembering her aunt Eleanor, Mini’s only sister, urging her to give Mini the benefit of the doubt when she came out with this kind of thing. ‘She doesn’t mean to be so harsh. It’s her way of coping,’ Eleanor insisted. ‘Cut her some slack.’
Well, no one’s cutting me any slack, Ali raged silently. Maybe I need a bit of slack. He is my dad after all.
‘Where’s your wedding ring gone?’ Ali wearily changed the subject, discreetly checking the time. Almost done.
‘That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘Oh?’ Ali raised an eyebrow, prompting Mini to lean closer.
‘What have you done with your eyebrows? They look ridiculous.’
‘Jesus, Mum. This is the way everyone wears them now. It’s called high definition.’
‘Well, they’re doing you no favours. Anyway, that’s not why we’re here, although maybe they should be on the agenda. Should we be staging an intervention – that’s what they call it, right?’ She cackled to herself.
Mini’s idea of a joke had always been pretty cutting but in the last few years, with Miles being so sick, the humour in her remarks had ebbed away entirely. Miles had always softened Mini; he had also united her and Ali. Without him their family just didn’t work. It wasn’t even a family – just two people who couldn’t seem to last a conversation without a fight.
Ali rolled her eyes. ‘I actually have to go to work too, you know.’
As if just remembering why they were there, Mini looked serious suddenly and even a little nervous, which was definitely strange.
‘So I’ve been wanting to tell you something. I’ve been thinking for a while now about maybe going on a date … with a man … who is not your dad.’
This was not what Ali had been expecting. And then as she began to feel engulfed by the information, she realised she also didn’t think she would care so much about something like this.
‘You can’t go and date. He’s not dead, Mini.’ Ali could hear her voice rising but she couldn’t stop it. ‘What are you going to do, bring your dates to visit him in Ailesend?’
Her parents had always been so together – she couldn’t picture her mother with someone else. They were a team, an unlikely one but a team nonetheless. They’d been something of an ‘it’ couple back when Miles was still centre of the floorshow at Frederick’s. It had been a hub for the Dublin theatre and art scene with Mini and Miles at the heart of it.
Ali had loved working there during college, back when she thought she wanted to be a playwright. After Miles had started to get sick, everything about that world had reminded her of him. He’d performed in theatre productions in his early twenties in Cork before moving to Dublin in 1984 to pursue bigger roles. Miles had worked in restaurants between acting gigs and had eventually become sidetracked by the business.
‘You’re not a widow, Mini,’ Ali pointed out flatly. The ethics of this seemed seriously dubious. ‘You could at least wait till he’s dead to go on dates,’ Ali finished bitterly.
‘It’s not dates plural. It’s just one date,’ Mini argued. ‘You can’t possibly understand what the last few years have been like for me. Your dad wasn’t supposed to be lost to us at sixty. I wasn’t supposed to be this odd widow-like creature. I’m lonely, Alessandra. I don’t want to be alone – I want companionship. I still travel all the time and it’s no fun without your dad. It’s not just intercourse, you understand.’ Ali suppressed a shudder at this but Mini was on a roll. ‘I need a partner, not just sexual gratification.’
‘I get it, I get it,’ Ali cut across her, realising ‘I get it’ sounded like she was granting her permission, but anything to make Mini cease and desist with the sex talk. ‘Look, if you want to go on DatesForTheDecrepit.com that’s your business. I just don’t want to hear about it.’
‘Darling, I have to tell you about it. This is Dublin, there’ll be talk.’
‘Why would there be talk?’ Ali narrowed her eyes. Mini shifted about, fiddling with the cover of her iPad.
‘It’s Marcus.’ Mini crossed her arms and faced Ali with a resigned expression.
‘Oh, what the fuck, Mum!’
‘I didn’t plan it and nothing untoward has happened yet. We just realised we have developed feelings for each other and want to pursue it.’
