3.
So it was that at four the next day Brigit and Myra sat smugly in Myraâs lounge sipping coffee and waiting for the boys to show.
âTaking their time, arenât they?â
âDemonstrating their independence. Cheeky little sods. Behaving like sixteen-year-olds.â
âYeah. Or six-year-olds â depending how you look at it.â
âShh â here they are.â
The front door opened, there was a murmur of voices, and a moment later in trooped the two miscreants - looking uniformly disgruntled.
âHi guys,â said Myra, breezily. âHow are you? How was school?â
Archie grunted, as he usually did when his mother asked him a question. Conor, as he was addressing a friendâs mother, assumed enough politeness at least to offer a reply.
âOkay. Same as usual. Boring teachers, pointless lessons. Mum? What do you want to talk to us about? We were supposed to be meeting our mates down the burger bar.â
âYes, that right,â added Archie. âWe can still make it, too, if you stop wasting time and tell us what you want.â
Brigit looked at Myra, as if to say, âshall I?â And receiving only a wry look in return, she embarked upon the proposition.
âAll right. Weâll get to the point. Sit down there.â She indicated the sofa. Sulkily, they threw themselves down side by side.
âFirst of all, we donât think much of âyour matesâ, as you call them Theyâre older than you, and frankly theyâre a bunch of layabouts, what Iâve seen of them. No, Conor, Iâm speaking. Remain quiet for once. Now, we have an idea. Youâre not going to like it, but thereâs another side to everything.â She took a breath. âWe want you to start Irish dancing lessons.â
The boys stared. Archieâs mouth fell open. Conorâs face contorted with anger.
âMum? Are you fuc-kingâŚ?â He was about to say âseriousâ, but his mother cut him off.
âConor! Donât you dare swear at me â at us! If I tell your father your feet wonât touch the ground. Youâll be shut in your bedroom every night for a week!â
Conor realised he had made a mistake.
âSorry, mumâŚit just sort of slipped outâŚâ
âItâs slipping out a bit too often, lately, my boy. Hardly surprising, seeing youâre spending your time with a bunch of louts.â
âButâŚtheyâre my friendsâŚâ
âNonsense! Friends donât behave like that â corrupting kids younger than themselves.â
âCorrupting?â began Archie, with a sneer. How old do you think we are?â
âEleven, at the last count,â laughed Myra. âNot even teenagers. And mentally? I donât knowâŚ.six, maybe?â
âShut up, mum!â
âSo what about the lessons?â
âYou suggested that last year. Weâre not going to Irish dancing. Your sister does that, donât she Conor? Itâs for girls. No way. Thatâs an end of it. Câmon, letâs get out of here.â
They rose, and were heading for the door.
âWeâre not finished,â said Brigit, quietly.
âWell we are, mum,â replied Conor.
âOkay. Well, if you donât want to hear about TexasâŚâ
Conor stopped dead. âWhat about Texas?â
âNothing. I can see youâre not interested.â
âNo, youâve gotta tell me now. Now youâve said it.â
Archie was looking puzzled.
âMy uncle lives in Texas, Archie. Heâs got a ranch anâ everything!â
âReally? You never told meâŚâ
âNo, cosâŚI dunno. Mum, what about it?â
âYou sure you want to know? Leave if you have to meet your matesâŚâ
âShut up and tell me!â
He grabbed Archie and pulled him down onto the sofa again.
âUncle Michael has invited you both to stay for Christmas. Two or three weeks. Youâd live in a log cabin separate from the grown-ups. Thatâs all. We were considering if we could afford it, but as you donât seem to be prepared to co-operateâŚâ
âMum! We will! Wonât we Archie?â
âEr, will weâŚ?â
âYou donât understand! Thereâs horses and forests and bearsâŚand guns! Heâs got loads of guns!â
âGuns? What, air rifles?â
âNo, you idiot, real guns! Automatics, and AKs and stuff!â
âNo shit! Like, real guns!â
âBut if youâre not prepared to change your lifestyles a bit,â said Myra, âIâm afraidâŚwell, weâre not prepared to make the effort to scrape up your airfares.â
âMum, look, weâll just hang out with each other from now on,â began Archie, sitting up very straight and trying to look serious and committed.
âYeah,â continued Conor. âI donât want to see those other guys any more anyway. We never really liked them, did we Archie?â
âNah. Bunch of fâŚ, I mean posers. We donât need them.â
âWait till we tell themâŚâ
âOh. Youâre going to tell them youâre starting Irish dancing? Thatâs nice, Conor. Iâm sure theyâll be jealousâŚâ
âMum,â he whined, âpleaseâŚdonât make us do thatâŚâ
âWeâre not going to make you do anything,â smiled Myra. âItâs totally up to you. Conor, your sister enjoys it. And so does Archie's cousin - doesnât he, Archie?â
âYeah⌠Sean⌠He does, all rightâŚâ
âAnd is he a wimp?â
âNo. Thatâs true, Conor. Heâs a jiu-jitsu brown belt, too. Once there were these three blokes what tried to beat him up, andâŚâ
âAll right. Tell Conor later, dear. Now, whatâs it going to be?â
âHow long would we be going forâŚ?â
âOh, I donât know. Brigit?â
âWe could manage three weeks, I guess. Think what a nice peaceful Christmas weâd have, Myra!â
âThree weeks!â Conorâs eyes gleamed. âRight. Weâll do it. Wonât we, Archie?â
âYeah. Weâll do it!â
âTwo sessions a week plus any extra ones for competitions.â
âC-competitions?â
âYes. And a minimum of six months.â
âSix months?â
âTake it or leave it.â
The boys looked at each other, then back at their mothers. âWeâll take it,â they said in unison.