with an Irish inflection and peppered his conversation with ‘grand’ and ‘feck’.
Six months later they bought a top-floor flat in Notting Hill and Sandro used his architectural skills to take out so many ceilings and walls and put in so many mezzanines, portholes and polished concrete floors that it appeared in
Which House?
and
Elle Decoration
.
‘Up we get.’ Fintan heaved his feet out of Sandro’s lap. ‘Things to see, people to do. Do you want to go to Katherine’s later?’
Sandro nodded enthusiastically. That was another reason that Fintan and Sandro worked so well. Fintan came as a package deal with Tara and Katherine – love me, love my friends – and Fintan had once dumped a potential love interest because he’dtaken violently against Katherine, exclaiming, ‘She’s so
anal
.’
‘After Katherine’s will we go out for a drink and a dance?’ Sandro asked.
‘Sure. So we’d better get you organized for Norwich now, because you’ll be too tired in the morning.’ Fintan bustled: the following day Sandro was going to Norwich for a week, doing major work on a house there. ‘Bring me your shirts to be ironed.’
‘You know you don’t have to do that,’ Sandro protested. ‘I could try.’
‘Pah, no. You never make them as nice.’
‘Okay,’ he said shyly. ‘Thanks.’
Fintan got out the ironing-board and Sandro gave him five shirts.
‘What do I need to pack?’ Sandro called from the beige Japanese-style bedroom, his case flung open on the raised platform bed.
‘Five pairs of knickers, five pairs of socks, toothbrush, smellies, charger for your mobile, you forgot that the last time…’
‘Can I have your jean jacket?’
‘If you don’t mind it being too big.’
After Fintan had lovingly removed every crease from Sandro’s shirts, he carefully laid them in the case, smoothing them flat. ‘Right, you’re all set. Now I’d better ring my mother.’
Every Sunday without fail he rang his mother. For a seventy-something, Irish-Catholic mother JaneAnn was pretty cool. She knew Fintan was gay and seemed to have no great problem with it. The only fly in the ointment was the question of Fintan’s ‘flatmate’. Fintan had never quite known how to bring the conversation around to the fact that he was living with hisboyfriend, and as time had gone on, and no mention had been made, it had seemed harder and harder to broach the subject. Fintan picked up the phone and he and JaneAnn chewed the fat for ages, JaneAnn doing most of the talking. For a small town, Knockavoy had an awful lot of drama. Three heifers had escaped from Clancy’s bottom field and destroyed a shrub in the parish priest’s garden, and now the priest’s housekeeper was refusing to speak to Francie Clancy. Delia Casey was organizing a benefit gig for Rwanda, ‘whatever the heck a benefit gig is. Might it be something like a sale of work?’ And the hottest news of all – they were after getting Pop-tarts into the Spar.
When Fintan hung up he suggested to Sandro, ‘Why don’t you come to Ireland with me at Christmas?’
Sandro giggled nervously. ‘I am afraid. What if they didn’t like me? Your mother and your brothers?’
‘They would. Ah, Sandro, five years is too long to not have met each other’s family. It’s time we dealt with it.’
‘You’re right, and we could go to my family for New Year’s Eve.’
Fintan paled. ‘Or we could forget the whole idea and go to Lanzagrotty.’
‘Again?’
‘We’ll see. Let’s get ready for Katherine’s.’
‘Did you take your vitamins today?’
‘Oh, I forgot. I’ll take them now.’
‘Fintan, you must stop forgetting. It’s important that you take them.’ Sandro sounded annoyed.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
13
That evening Tara was almost afraid to go out, reluctant to leave Thomas while things were still tense and weird. It felt like an admission of failure. But once she was out of the front door and in her car, she found she was nearly
Six months later they bought a top-floor flat in Notting Hill and Sandro used his architectural skills to take out so many ceilings and walls and put in so many mezzanines, portholes and polished concrete floors that it appeared in
Which House?
and
Elle Decoration
.
‘Up we get.’ Fintan heaved his feet out of Sandro’s lap. ‘Things to see, people to do. Do you want to go to Katherine’s later?’
Sandro nodded enthusiastically. That was another reason that Fintan and Sandro worked so well. Fintan came as a package deal with Tara and Katherine – love me, love my friends – and Fintan had once dumped a potential love interest because he’dtaken violently against Katherine, exclaiming, ‘She’s so
anal
.’
‘After Katherine’s will we go out for a drink and a dance?’ Sandro asked.
‘Sure. So we’d better get you organized for Norwich now, because you’ll be too tired in the morning.’ Fintan bustled: the following day Sandro was going to Norwich for a week, doing major work on a house there. ‘Bring me your shirts to be ironed.’
‘You know you don’t have to do that,’ Sandro protested. ‘I could try.’
‘Pah, no. You never make them as nice.’
‘Okay,’ he said shyly. ‘Thanks.’
Fintan got out the ironing-board and Sandro gave him five shirts.
‘What do I need to pack?’ Sandro called from the beige Japanese-style bedroom, his case flung open on the raised platform bed.
‘Five pairs of knickers, five pairs of socks, toothbrush, smellies, charger for your mobile, you forgot that the last time…’
‘Can I have your jean jacket?’
‘If you don’t mind it being too big.’
After Fintan had lovingly removed every crease from Sandro’s shirts, he carefully laid them in the case, smoothing them flat. ‘Right, you’re all set. Now I’d better ring my mother.’
Every Sunday without fail he rang his mother. For a seventy-something, Irish-Catholic mother JaneAnn was pretty cool. She knew Fintan was gay and seemed to have no great problem with it. The only fly in the ointment was the question of Fintan’s ‘flatmate’. Fintan had never quite known how to bring the conversation around to the fact that he was living with hisboyfriend, and as time had gone on, and no mention had been made, it had seemed harder and harder to broach the subject. Fintan picked up the phone and he and JaneAnn chewed the fat for ages, JaneAnn doing most of the talking. For a small town, Knockavoy had an awful lot of drama. Three heifers had escaped from Clancy’s bottom field and destroyed a shrub in the parish priest’s garden, and now the priest’s housekeeper was refusing to speak to Francie Clancy. Delia Casey was organizing a benefit gig for Rwanda, ‘whatever the heck a benefit gig is. Might it be something like a sale of work?’ And the hottest news of all – they were after getting Pop-tarts into the Spar.
When Fintan hung up he suggested to Sandro, ‘Why don’t you come to Ireland with me at Christmas?’
Sandro giggled nervously. ‘I am afraid. What if they didn’t like me? Your mother and your brothers?’
‘They would. Ah, Sandro, five years is too long to not have met each other’s family. It’s time we dealt with it.’
‘You’re right, and we could go to my family for New Year’s Eve.’
Fintan paled. ‘Or we could forget the whole idea and go to Lanzagrotty.’
‘Again?’
‘We’ll see. Let’s get ready for Katherine’s.’
‘Did you take your vitamins today?’
‘Oh, I forgot. I’ll take them now.’
‘Fintan, you must stop forgetting. It’s important that you take them.’ Sandro sounded annoyed.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
13
That evening Tara was almost afraid to go out, reluctant to leave Thomas while things were still tense and weird. It felt like an admission of failure. But once she was out of the front door and in her car, she found she was nearly
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