tell him I want to wait at least five years before having another baby. He was so animated when he spoke about having many children. Conor said he hated being an only child. It put him under a lot of pressure to perform all the time. Be the best at this. Be the best at that. The Super Trouper was always shining on him. There was no one else on the stage.
Unlike me, who was always in the shadows. Amanda was the one lit up. The one who attracted all the attention. Even when we were kids, my mother called out her name first. I know it’s a small thing but it did annoy me, especially as I was the oldest. ‘Amanda, Laura, dinner’s ready. Amanda, Laura, did you do your homework?’ There were even times when she left my name out altogether, like she’d forgotten it or something. But it suited me not to be in the spotlight.
‘What about this one?’ Amanda laughs, holding up a big puffy white satin gown with layers and layers of tulle below the skirt.
‘Hah, can you imagine Maggie’s face if I arrive home with that?’
Amanda is still laughing and trying to figure out how someone would get a baby into the massive christening gown, but I’m not laughing. Rose’s revelation won’t let me. What was Vicky Murphy doing asking about me? I was wrong coming to Dublin today thinking it would take my mind off what Pat had told the cops about Conor. I should have known things would get worse. They always do.
I’m about to give up. None of these gowns are what I’m looking for anyway. In my head, I have a picture of what I want: Shay’s face glowing in a simple lace gown with little puckered arms, no bows, no diamonds, just lace. I realise I’m searching for my own christening gown. The one in the photos of Mam holding me on her lap, the white lace gown cascading down her side. Amanda is still searching through the rails when I say: ‘I wonder if Mam would give me my gown?’
The words float across to where Amanda is standing still, her hand frozen to the rail. She doesn’t turn to look at me. Her head lowers for a moment then she moves back to look at the gowns.
‘That’s not going to happen Laura, keep looking,’ she says.
My sadness is disturbed by a voice behind me.
‘Can I help you?’ I turn to see an old man standing there. Thin as a famine victim, his trousers are kept off the floor by a pair of checkered braces. Around his neck, a much-used measuring tape hangs. When he speaks his voice is gentle, probably from years of dealing with the indecisive.
‘I can’t find what I’m looking for,’ I say.
Amanda walks around from where she’s standing on the far side of the display cabinet, in case she’s missing anything.
‘I was hoping to get something simple, beautiful… something made of lace.’
The man is nodding, urging me to continue.
‘Maybe with a tiny sleeve… or not, I could get a cardigan.’
He’s still nodding, what more information does he need? Pointing at the display in front of me I say, ‘These are all lovely but I wanted something… maybe a bit more old-style, not so blingy.’
‘I think I might have what you’re looking for,’ he says.
The man disappears behind a curtain that divides the storeroom from the rest of us.
Amanda looks at her watch. ‘I hope he finds what you’re looking for soon, Laura, I’ve to head back to work. I’ve a presentation at two thirty.’
‘You go on, I’m okay here,’ I say, but deep down I’m disappointed. I was hoping Amanda would spend the afternoon with me, take some time off work. But that’s not going to happen.
‘Are you sure? I can wait another few minutes.’
‘No, go on.’
Amanda hugs me, telling me she hopes I get what I’m looking for and to drive home safely, she’ll ring me later. She will ring me later. I know that much but she won’t mention the fact that Vicky Murphy was asking about me. It’s how she operates. Worry doesn’t have a room in Amanda’s head. Unlike me, she is able to forget anything she wants. It’s always been that way. Forget and move on. Don’t let reality get in the way of a good time.
‘Something like this?’ Walking towards me, the man holds out a beautiful simple lace gown. There are no frills, no sparkles, no bows. A