‘Why were you trying to avoid him? Also, you are aware that he asked if you had any news and you made no mention of your, oh, I dunno, husband? And baby?’
‘Relax, Lindy, I hardly denied their existence. I just didn’t bring them up. If he’d asked me directly, I’d have said something.’
‘Just as long as you’re not trying to keep your options open or something crazed like that,’ Lindy remarked. ‘He’s a lash, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah.’ Ailbhe nodded wistfully. ‘Seb Knox. You can guess what we called him?’
‘Yes, I can. Absolutely no need to tell me.’
‘Gals.’ Roe spoke for the first time since they’d come over. ‘I’m going to wait it out in the loo, OK? I might do a little nervous puke.’
Roe skulked in the ladies of Craghanmor Community Centre.Voices of Glorywould be rehearsing in the centre until opening night in Dublin’s Liberty Theatre in ten weeks’ time, and Roe sensed she’d be hiding in here a lot in the coming weeks, given the cameras swarming and the sheer intensity of a community musical-theatre production. Breathers would be key. The auditorium was in the new wing of the building. It was all white tiles and rubber floors and had the sterile air of a sanatorium. The halls outside clanged with practising Life and Soullers. It was all a bit nerve-shredding. Speaking of nerve-shredding, she’d decided to text her mother earlier just to add another fraught layer of angst to this day.Why do I do it?It was like a scab she couldn’t hold back from worrying. As much as she tried to not care about Maura, it was so hard to unpick the tight, muddled stitches of a mother–daughter relationship. Despite the anger and resentment her mother triggered in her, she wanted the approval.
ROE: Hey Mum, I know we didn’t leave things well last time. Just checking in. I decided to try out for the choir musical. Just a little project.
It was an innocuous message, she’d kept it light, and Maura’d finally gotten back.
MAURA: That’s great, if you think that’s a good use of your time.
It was the kind of message that might not have seemed like a big deal to some people, people with cosy, supportive mothers who had a wellspring of praise and encouragement for their kids. However, anyone with a mother in the mould of Maura O’Neill knew such mothers had an incredible knack of communicating years of dissatisfaction in literally ten words. As always with a message like this, Roe was tempted to explode. To demand to know why she was such a serial disappointment, to berate her mother’s toxic bigotry, but when she had in the past, it had achieved nothing. She’d gaslight Roe and insist she did nothing to warrant the outburst. Maddening. And devastating. It was no good. There was no point in responding. She deleted the chat from her WhatsApp so she didn’t have to look at Maura’s words every time she opened it. She stood by the sinks and fiddled with her hair.Don’t let her ruin this, she coached herself as Danny rushed in.
‘There you are! Praise the good lord Johnny Logan, we thought you’d backed out.’ He leaned back out the door. ‘MAGS! I’ve got her.’
‘Roe!’ Mags joined them breathlessly. ‘What are you at? Denise has them filming her “prep routine”. She’s brandishing some kind of yoni tuning fork. It’s a nightmare. You need a prep routine – preferably not cringe or medically questionable.’
‘This is it.’ Roe laughed weakly and leaned in to the mirror to apply a deep purple shade to her lips, trying to ignore the nausea roiling in the pit of her stomach.
‘We need to get you out of these God-awful plaits and in front of a camera.’ Danny had started to fiddle with her hair, fluffing it out.
‘Here.’ Mags was all business, handing him some product. ‘You desperately need some volume. Love the lippy. Now, how’s the voice doing?’
‘It’s good, I’m feeling good.’
‘Belting good? ‘Defying Gravity’ good?’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Roe watched in the mirror as they fussed around her.
‘Roe, hun, I love you but why did you do this whole utility thing.’ Danny shook his head sadly and made a sweeping gesture to encompass her denim shirt and dark tracksuit bottoms. ‘It’s like you’retryingto upset me.’
‘I’m camera averse, remember? I figure they’re less likely to notice me like this.’
Mags ignored her. ‘What bra are you wearing?’
‘A bra that I would like to keep to myself,’ Roe responded curtly.
‘C’mon, hun, this is a visual medium. If you want to get up there and have a shot at bringing our queen, Niamh Kavanagh, to life you need to make an impact.’
‘Danny’s right, this is musical theatre. You can’t be shy and retiring. Idina Menzel doesn’t half assanything. You have to go out there and own this moment. Roe, in five years of the Life and Soullers, you have never stepped up. But everyone is rooting for you.’
He was right. Putting herself out there had taken far too long; it had taken the prospect of having a baby and missing the opportunity altogether to push her.
‘Now this outfit, Roe,’ Danny said grimly. He himself was looking stun in denim shorts and an oversized sequinned bomber. ‘Let’s just tie up the shirt, undo a few buttons.’
Danny and Mags set to work making adjustments so that Roe’s neon-orange bra was now partially visible, the shirt tied up to expose a slash of midriff.
‘Gorge! You look so hot.’ Danny snapped a pic on his phone.
‘No socials,’ Roe protested. She was still unsure how this whole idea would play with Eddie.
