Page 62 of Playing Dirty
Ellie, the youngest, with her purple hair, immediately starts badgering Margot about living in Napa, while Lily, the second youngest and currently sporting a new pixie cut, chimes in with her own interrogation. Finally, Saoirse, the middle child, rounds the corner and envelopes her in a hug. She’s the most serene and bookish of the lot, a librarian who practically lives among the stacks.
Dad comes around the corner and pats me on the back with a warm grin, while Margot, laughing and radiant, bounces between my sisters before reaching out to shake Dad's hand.
"So nice to meet you, Margot," he says in that steady, gentle way of his, and Margot beams back at him.
Dad's Canadian through and through, which mostly comes down to being unfailingly polite.
"That's enough now, come on." Mam shoos them with both hands. "Let her breathe, she's only just in the door."
We steer Margot further into the house, the semi-detached on Dublin's northside, where I spent a good portion of my teen years. It's small and cozy, with a lumpy couch and family photos plastered over every available inch of wall space. Us as kids, hockey trophies, Fiadh's university graduation, our early years out in Galway, and a string of ill-fated surf attempts from summers up in Donegal.
The rest of the space is a battle between books and sports. Paperbacks stacked haphazardly on every shelf, and the odd signed puck or framed jersey since Dad loves athletic history asmuch as his reading. Plus a scattering of little Virgin Mary statues keeping watch over all of it, a dozen at least, because Mam's never met one she could leave in a shop.
"Now, come on, pull up. The food's nearly ready." Mam waves us into the dining room.
"Oh, it smells incredible." Margot breathes it in, her whole face lighting up.
The dining room is barely big enough to hold all of us. The table's already crowded with mismatched plates and a jug of water, and Lily's picking at the bread basket before anyone's sat down. She and Ellie bicker over who's stuck on the wobbly chair, Saoirse drifts in with a bowl of salad, and Fiadh tells everyone where to sit. Dad ducks into the kitchen to answer a phone call.
Ellie grabs one of the chairs beside Margot, leaning straight in. "Mam's a wonderful cook, so you'll eat well. Hope you came hungry, she's made enough to feed an army."
"I'm absolutely ravenous, so that sounds great to me," Margot laughs, glancing around at the crush of it all like she can't quite believe she's in the middle of it.
I take the chair on her other side, close enough that our shoulders brush. She catches my eye and we share a quick, private smile before the noise of the table pulls us back in.
Mam finally bustles in and sets a steaming pot in the middle of everything. "Now, Margot, I hope pasta's alright with you. It's a vodka sauce, and there's garlic bread and a salad to go with it. I'm only sorry it's nothing more traditional, with it being your first time in Ireland, but I had the dinner planned and the shopping done before Cillian asked about bringing you."
"Oh, please don’t be sorry! I love pasta." Margot smiles at her. "This is absolutely perfect. Thank you again for having me, it means a lot."
"You're more than welcome, love. We're justdelightedto meet you." Mam settles into her chair. "Now, Cillian told us the twoof you aren't dating or anything of the sort, but it's just grand to see him bring home a girl he so clearly thinks the world of. Especially one as lovely as yourself."
Mam looks between the two of us with a knowing little smile, and I shake my head at her, but Margot only laughs it off beside me.
"Well, that may be true but I will say"—Margot slides a look my way, then turns back to Mam—"you've raised a very lovely son. I'll admit I had him a bit misjudged when we first started working together, but he's one of the kindest people I've met."
I cut Margot a look, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.
"Yes, I'm giving you a compliment, take it," she laughs, and I can't help but grin back.
Mam chuckles, helping herself to the salad. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. A mother always likes to hear her boy is behaving. But a bit of judging does no harm. This one's ego could use a touch of tempering now and again."
The whole table dissolves into laughter at that. Dad finally hangs up and joins us, pulling out his chair and reaching for a plate.
Mam looks over at him. "Who was that on the phone? Everything alright?"
Dad nods as he starts serving himself. "Oh, just Orla from the office. She had that information you were looking for on the new intake, so I've taken down the details and let her know you'd be in touch tomorrow."
She smiles, looking relieved. "Oh good, that'll be a massive help. Thank you, love."
"I think I mentioned it, but Mam works in domestic violence advocacy." I spoon a generous portion of pasta onto Margot's plate and pass it toward her.
Margot accepts the plate, turning her full, warm attention back to my mother. "That is such admirable work."
“Thank you.” Mam nods, her expression turning serious. "Iwork at a women's refuge, so we take in women and children leaving abusive homes, help them find somewhere safe, get them to court for a protection order if they need one. It's heavy going some days. But I go to bed knowing I helped someone, and that's enough to make it worth it."
"It sounds like you've changed a lot of lives," Margot says softly, and Mam smiles at her.
"That's the hope." She reaches across the table to pat Dad's hand. "You know, one of the reasons I fell for this one is because, well, he's lovely, obviously, but he reads aloud to me every single night. A bit of a story to help me switch off after the harder days. We still do it. I'll throw on an audiobook now and again, but his voice is still my favorite for a story."
