together,’ said Pierre.
‘No. Let me pave the way first, then you fly over and meet everyone.’
‘All right.’
‘I just need to ask you one more time. Are you absolutely sure you want to marry me? You’ll be taking on my family and it’s not going to be easy.’
‘Yes, I am. Besides, I’m marrying you, not your family.’
‘Technically, yes, but in my family’s case they tend to get very involved.’
‘Niamh, we’re getting married and moving to Vancouver, which is a long way away so your family won’t really be a problem.’
‘They’ll come and visit, believe me,’ I said, remembering the time my cousin had moved to New York and a steady stream of relatives, friends of relatives, colleagues of relatives, neighbours of relatives and pretty much anyone his relatives had ever spoken to arrived on his doorstep every week. He’d gone to New York to get away for a while and ended up running an Irish B-and-B.
‘Great. I hope they do,’ said Pierre.
‘Do you know anything about Vancouver?’ I asked.
‘I looked it up last night. It has a population of almost two million people, you can ski and sail in the same day. It has great restaurants, shops and galleries. The population is extremely diverse, so we’ll fit right in.’
‘Does it get to minus forty in the winter? Will we have to live underground for months at a time wearing Puffa jackets to bed?’
Pierre grinned. ‘As attractive as that sounds, no, we won’t. Apparently it rarely goes below zero because it’s on the coast. But it’s close to Whistler, which is supposed to be incredible for skiing.’
‘I don’t know how to ski.’
‘I’ll teach you.’
‘I have really bad co-ordination.’
‘You’ll be fine. I’ll help you.’
‘Pierre.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m scared.’
‘Of what?’
‘Everything.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine.’
‘What if I can’t get a job and I end up sitting in the house all day waiting for you to come home and being resentful of you because my career is down the toilet and I’ve no friends and no one to talk to, while you’re out teaching ski-toned, leggy Canadian young ones about linguistics?’
‘I’ve already asked the dean of the university to put out feelers for you with local editors. Once they read your columns, they’ll snap you up.’
‘I hope so. I’ll go mad with nothing to do.’
‘Actually, darling, I was hoping we could start a family sooner rather than later,’ Pierre admitted.
‘Already?’
‘I’m forty-two. I don’t want to be too old to kick a ball around with my kids. I’ll be sixty-three when they turn twenty-one. That’s old.’
‘So that’s why you’re taking me to Canada. To get me barefoot and pregnant.’
‘It’d be nice to have children.’
‘Yes, but I’m still trying to get my head round marriage and emigration to another continent. I don’t have the head space for kids.’
‘But you wouldn’t be against having them quickly?’
‘No. But you’re not that old and I’m young, so we don’t need to panic yet. Can I enjoy my honeymoon first?’
‘All right. You can have those two weeks off, but after that it’s down to making babies.’
‘Two weeks? Where are we off to?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘Have you booked it yet?’
‘I was waiting to propose first.’
‘Wise move.’
‘Thanks.’
‘A few pointers for you. I don’t like humidity, creepy-crawlies, any kind of trekking, climbing or mountaineering. I don’t like really intense heat because I get heat rash. I’m not a fan of camping. I think spas are overrated. How many massages can a person get? I like a bit of culture but not too much, because then you feel guilty if you haven’t gone to see all the museums and galleries. I prefer pools to beaches – I find sand high maintenance. I prefer small, family-type hotels to big flashy ones. A fishing village an hour’s drive from a cool city would be great.’ I grinned.
‘Could you be
‘No. Let me pave the way first, then you fly over and meet everyone.’
‘All right.’
‘I just need to ask you one more time. Are you absolutely sure you want to marry me? You’ll be taking on my family and it’s not going to be easy.’
‘Yes, I am. Besides, I’m marrying you, not your family.’
‘Technically, yes, but in my family’s case they tend to get very involved.’
‘Niamh, we’re getting married and moving to Vancouver, which is a long way away so your family won’t really be a problem.’
‘They’ll come and visit, believe me,’ I said, remembering the time my cousin had moved to New York and a steady stream of relatives, friends of relatives, colleagues of relatives, neighbours of relatives and pretty much anyone his relatives had ever spoken to arrived on his doorstep every week. He’d gone to New York to get away for a while and ended up running an Irish B-and-B.
‘Great. I hope they do,’ said Pierre.
‘Do you know anything about Vancouver?’ I asked.
‘I looked it up last night. It has a population of almost two million people, you can ski and sail in the same day. It has great restaurants, shops and galleries. The population is extremely diverse, so we’ll fit right in.’
‘Does it get to minus forty in the winter? Will we have to live underground for months at a time wearing Puffa jackets to bed?’
Pierre grinned. ‘As attractive as that sounds, no, we won’t. Apparently it rarely goes below zero because it’s on the coast. But it’s close to Whistler, which is supposed to be incredible for skiing.’
‘I don’t know how to ski.’
‘I’ll teach you.’
‘I have really bad co-ordination.’
‘You’ll be fine. I’ll help you.’
‘Pierre.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m scared.’
‘Of what?’
‘Everything.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine.’
‘What if I can’t get a job and I end up sitting in the house all day waiting for you to come home and being resentful of you because my career is down the toilet and I’ve no friends and no one to talk to, while you’re out teaching ski-toned, leggy Canadian young ones about linguistics?’
‘I’ve already asked the dean of the university to put out feelers for you with local editors. Once they read your columns, they’ll snap you up.’
‘I hope so. I’ll go mad with nothing to do.’
‘Actually, darling, I was hoping we could start a family sooner rather than later,’ Pierre admitted.
‘Already?’
‘I’m forty-two. I don’t want to be too old to kick a ball around with my kids. I’ll be sixty-three when they turn twenty-one. That’s old.’
‘So that’s why you’re taking me to Canada. To get me barefoot and pregnant.’
‘It’d be nice to have children.’
‘Yes, but I’m still trying to get my head round marriage and emigration to another continent. I don’t have the head space for kids.’
‘But you wouldn’t be against having them quickly?’
‘No. But you’re not that old and I’m young, so we don’t need to panic yet. Can I enjoy my honeymoon first?’
‘All right. You can have those two weeks off, but after that it’s down to making babies.’
‘Two weeks? Where are we off to?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘Have you booked it yet?’
‘I was waiting to propose first.’
‘Wise move.’
‘Thanks.’
‘A few pointers for you. I don’t like humidity, creepy-crawlies, any kind of trekking, climbing or mountaineering. I don’t like really intense heat because I get heat rash. I’m not a fan of camping. I think spas are overrated. How many massages can a person get? I like a bit of culture but not too much, because then you feel guilty if you haven’t gone to see all the museums and galleries. I prefer pools to beaches – I find sand high maintenance. I prefer small, family-type hotels to big flashy ones. A fishing village an hour’s drive from a cool city would be great.’ I grinned.
‘Could you be
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