‘Not too bad,’ he replies.
‘We’re going to try it without the wheelchair today,’ says Mum. ‘Just the sticks.’
‘No chair yesterday,’ says Dad. His speech seems to improve each time I see him. It’s been six months since the accident and although he can’t speak quite so quickly, the words are definitely more distinguishable. His walking has come on quite well, but it’s a slow process. His physio assures him it’s only a matter of time, patience and practice. Poor Dad, having to learn to walk again at his age. Still, we are grateful for small mercies, it could have been a whole lot worse.
‘We went to the café yesterday,’ says Mum passing Dad his sticks. He begins his laboured walk to the front door. ‘We thought we’d see how the new owners are getting on.’
‘They seem to be doing very well,’ I say. ‘It’s very modern in there now.’
‘Yes, it’s very nice,’ says Mum. ‘Now, what about Kerry? How did it go yesterday?’
‘Good,’ I say. ‘He and his mum are getting on really well now. It’s taken some time to get there, but I think it’s going to be okay. It makes it easier that she’s not with her husband any more.’
‘It’s a shame about the divorce,’ says Mum. ‘But it’s a fact, nothing will break a mother’s love.’
I smile at her. She is, of course, right. We make our way out the door.
‘What’s this?’ says Dad, nodding towards the Land Rover that’s parked outside. Kerry jumps out to open the passenger door and Storm waves madly from the child seat he is strapped into at the very back of the vehicle. Breeze is in her car seat on the other side. Skip is at the window too. Front paws on the glass, he gives a little yap as if to say ‘hurry up’.
‘I finally persuaded Kerry to buy a new Land Rover,’ I say. ‘The other one was fit for the scrap yard.’
‘Sure, it’s very grand,’ says Mum.
‘Good job I’m back at work full time and have plenty of paint jobs coming in. Your daughter has expensive tastes,’ says Kerry. He winks at me as he helps Dad into the front seat and then myself and Mum into the middle row of seats.
‘Hello, Storm,’ says Mum. ‘And hello darling little Breeze. My, what a bonny baby you are. And how are you Storm? Are you being good for Kerry and Erin?’
‘He most certainly is,’ I say.
‘Mummy and Daddy have gone on honeymoon,’ says Storm.
‘I know,’ says Mum. She smiles at me. I think she’s as relieved as everyone that Joe and Bex have got over the hurdle of his one-night stand with Roisin. ‘You have a very special mummy, there,’ says Mum.
‘You can say that again,’ says Kerry. ‘Their daddy is a very lucky man.’
He starts the engine and we head off to Fiona’s house.
‘Now, have I got the presents?’ says Mum. ‘Did I pick them up?’ She looks around her feet.
‘I’ve got them,’ I say. ‘I put them in the back.’
‘I can’t believe Sophie is eleven,’ says Mum.
Storm starts singing happy birthday and we all join in. After the fourth rendition, we arrive at Fiona’s house.
Sophie rushes out to meet us excitedly. Molly and Storm are equally as excited and somehow, amongst all the fuss, we manage to get out of the Land Rover and into the house.
Fiona has done a great job of decorating the room with balloons and banners and the buffet of finger food is laid out on a pink tablecloth in the conservatory.
I get Mum and Dad settled in the living room. Kerry and Sean have cracked open a beer each. Sean comes through with a glass of wine for me and Fiona. Before I take the glass, I hand Sophie her present. It’s a small box wrapped in pink paper with a white ribbon.
Sophie tears off the paper eagerly. The small blue trinket box sits in the palm of her hand. She opens the lid and, with great care, takes out the necklace. Her face lights up. ‘It’s like yours,’ she says.
I shake my head. ‘No, Sophie, it is mine. Was mine. It’s yours now. It belongs to you.’
She lets the Triskelion pendant swing on the end of the chain, looking at it for a moment before looking up at me. ‘Was it the one Niall gave to you?’
‘That’s right. I spoke to your mummy and daddy and we all agree it’s time for you to have it now.’
Sophie smiles and then hugs me. I hold her tightly and then to distract myself because I don’t want to cry on her birthday, I say, ‘Shall we put it on you?’
‘Yes, please!’ Sophie lifts her hair and turns around while I fix the necklace.