My Mother's Secret by Sheila O'Flanagan Page A

Steffie explained. ‘Me and Davey allow our lives to flow along and fall in with whatever happens.’
    Camilla nodded. ‘But Davey is changing, I think.’
    ‘Do you?’
    ‘He is good at his job and is doing well in his career.’
    ‘And with you?’ asked Steffie. ‘Is he doing well with you?’
    Camilla nodded. ‘I think, at least for the moment, we are good together,’ she replied.
    It was hardly a ringing endorsement, thought Steffie as she left Camilla to fill her glass with something non-alcoholic. And not exactly encouraging for Davey’s prospects.
    Paul was rummaging in the drinks cupboard to see if Jenny and Pascal had another bottle of rum when Summer came into the kitchen carrying some empty glasses.
    ‘It’s my fault,’ she said when he told her there was none left. ‘I shouldn’t have asked for a mojito in the first place.’
    ‘You weren’t to know.’ Paul couldn’t be angry with her when she looked so apologetic. ‘And from what I hear, they were a great success.’
    ‘Yes, but I think that your wife is pissed off at me,’ confessed Summer. ‘She wanted everyone to be drinking wine.’
    ‘There is rather a lot of it,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of sparkling rosé too.’
    ‘We could make Bellinis with that,’ suggested Summer. ‘What else is in that cupboard?’
    ‘Tequila,’ said Paul. ‘Vodka. And brandy.’
    ‘You don’t want to make anything with brandy. Not in the middle of the afternoon,’ Summer said. ‘Is there any Cointreau? We could do margaritas. Well, if there’s more lime juice, that is.’ She looked enquiringly at him. ‘Or perhaps I should butt out?’
    ‘Cocktails are fun and the mojitos were great,’ said Paul. ‘We should’ve thought of it ourselves.’ He took a bottle of Cointreau from the cupboard. ‘How d’you make a margarita?’
    ‘Easy peasy,’ said Summer. She rinsed a glass and then sliced one of the limes that Roisin had brought to add to the jugs of water for the guests who asked for it. ‘This is the version we do in the bar,’ she said as she mixed it and then handed it to him. ‘I can make it stronger.’
    ‘It’s pretty good the way it is,’ said Paul when he tasted it.
    ‘I could do with a proper cocktail shaker,’ Summer said.
    ‘I bet Jenny and Pascal have one somewhere.’ Paul started rummaging in the cupboard again.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    Neither of them had noticed Roisin walking into the room.
    ‘Ow!’ Paul yelped as he banged his head on the cupboard door. He turned slowly, rubbing his temple. ‘Hi, sweetheart. I was looking for a cocktail shaker.’
    ‘For heaven’s sake! There’s to be no more cocktails.’ Roisin looked angrily at him. ‘This isn’t an episode of Mad Men . It’s a garden party. With wine and beer. Nobody is supposed to be having hard liquor.’
    Summer laughed.
    ‘Excuse me?’ Roisin glared at her. ‘You find something funny?’
    ‘Hard liquor,’ said Summer. ‘I’ve never heard someone call a margarita hard liquor before.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter what I call it,’ said Roisin. ‘Cocktail hour is over. It’s wine, beer or water from now on.’
    ‘OK. OK,’ said Paul. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Well I’ll take this with me before the ban comes into force.’ Summer picked up the margarita and disappeared through the doors to the garden.
    Roisin continued to glare, this time at Paul.
    ‘What?’ he asked defensively.
    ‘She gatecrashed this party and you’re encouraging her to get the guests totally legless!’ cried Roisin. ‘For God’s sake, Paul. What d’you think you’re at?’
    ‘She didn’t gatecrash. Carl brought her. And they’re not that strong, those cocktails.’
    ‘Are you mad?’ demanded Roisin. ‘Aunt Moya is half cut already. Bobby and Tom are guzzling them like there’s no tomorrow. Alivia is posing in the garden with hers.’
    ‘So what?’ Paul smiled at her. ‘It’s a party. Lighten up.’
    ‘I’m in charge,’ Roisin said. ‘And I’m