Whose Life is it Anyway? by Sinéad Moriarty Page A

support.
    ‘And for the record,’ Granny added, ‘if I get Alzheimer’s, put a pillow over my face.’
    ‘Your request is noted. Now, can we please change the subject? What shall I do to help?’
    ‘You can chop these carrots,’ said Granny, handing me a knife. ‘How are things with you?’
    ‘Brilliant.’
    ‘Brilliant?’ she repeated. ‘You’ve never said that in your life. What’s going on?’
    ‘Nothing,’ I said, turning a deep shade of red. Damn. I should have been more careful.
    ‘Niamh O’Flaherty, are you in love?’
    ‘No!’ I protested.
    ‘You are too. It’s written all over your face.’
    ‘I’m not. Seriously, Granny, I’m just hot,’ I said, beginning to sweat under the scrutiny.
    ‘Don’t lie to me, young lady,’ she said, waving a carrot at me. ‘I know you far too well. Who is he?’
    ‘No one… I… It’s just someone I met a few weeks ago,’ I said, shaving a few months off the relationship. ‘It’s very early days, nothing to make a fuss about. I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to say. Honestly.’
    Granny put her arm round my shoulders. ‘Oh dear, it’s worse than I thought, you’re completely smitten. It’s all right, I won’t ask you any more questions. I just hope he’s a nice boy and worthy of you.’
    ‘He is, believe me. He really is.’
    ‘I’m so pleased for you, pet, you deserve it.’
    I wanted desperately to spill my heart out to her about Pierre, but for once in my life I took the sensible option, clamped my mouth shut and kept busy helping with dinner. By the time Granddad and Mum had arrived in from the airport, I’d managed to steer Granny away from talk of my romance.
    ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Granny said, giving Mum a kiss.
    ‘Hello, pet,’ Mum said, giving me a kiss.
    ‘Happy birthday,’ I said, giving Granddad a kiss.
    ‘Haven’t seen you in a while,’ he said. ‘That newspaper must be keeping you very busy. That, or you’ve a new lad who’s taking up your time.’ He grinned.
    I turned round quickly and went to get some wine so they wouldn’t see me going red again. My God, what was wrong with me? I hadn’t blushed so much since Siobhan was breastfeeding and had made me go down and ask the cute chemist for nipple cream.
    We sat down and, after an off-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, had dinner. Granny Byrne did a great roast chicken. It was comfort food at its best, lashings of stuffing and roast potatoes lathered in butter.
    ‘How’s everyone at home?’ Granny asked Mum.
    ‘Not too bad, thanks. Apparently Finn is making a big difference to the business. Mick says he can’t believe how good he is with numbers. He’s come up with all these new ways to cut costs and improve efficiency. Mick says he’ll be able to retire soon and hand it over to him.’
    ‘That’s great news,’ said Granddad.
    ‘I don’t know about that. What would I do with my husband under my feet all day? I prefer him out at work,’ said Mum.
    ‘Men need to be out and about,’ Granny said. ‘When your dad retired, it was a total nightmare. He followed me round all day asking what I was doing and complaining about the house being a mess. I was driven demented.’
    ‘I did not,’ Granddad objected.
    ‘Yes, you did, I remember it all too well. You were very grumpy for the first few months until you took up golf,’ said Mum.
    ‘Slanderous accusations to be making on my birthday,’ muttered Granddad.
    ‘Maybe that’s what Dad needs to do,’ I suggested.
    ‘You need patience to play golf,’ Mum said, ‘and that’s one virtue your father is not blessed with.’
    ‘True,’ we all agreed.
    ‘How’s Siobhan getting on?’ Granny asked.
    ‘You know Siobhan. She wants to get pregnant again. I told her five children is enough. She’s worn out chasing after them and Muireann can be a handful at times. She’s very stubborn.’
    ‘She just knows what she wants. I don’t think she’s stubborn,’ I said, defending my