Fiction

A Bigger Boat

By Feargal Ó Dubhghaill

THERE IT IS, THE DOORBELL’S RINGING. Mary’s in the kitchen, asks me to get it.
As I get up from the armchair, I remind myself of the name. Ciara Ann. Ciara Ann Magennis. Michael spelt it out for us on the phone. C-i-a-r-a, Ann without an ‘e’, ‘M-a-g-e-n-n-i-s’. A Northerner. You’d have to be with a name like that.
But this could be something. It’s a long time since Michael brought a woman over. Michael is forty-five. We would like to see our first-born settle down.
Have to say I’m a bit nervous. But I should just be myself. We should be ourselves.
I pin back my shoulders, take a quick look in the hall mirror, then go and open the front door. And there they are. Michael’s well turned out, in jeans and a smart check shirt. And Ciara Ann, she’s a fine-looking girl, dark hair and in a long summery dress. She looks a lot younger than Michael, which I have to admit I’m pleased about.
In Michael’s right hand is a bottle of whiskey, in his left a bunch of flowers. So thoughtful of them both.
Michael hands me the whiskey and hugs me. These days it’s all hugs when we meet. It’s his idea, maybe it’s to do with everyone getting older. Then Mary emerges from the kitchen, all smiles, apologising for her damp hands. She beams at the flowers, says they shouldn’t have, they really shouldn’t have.
After the hugs and handshakes, I show our guests to the sitting room and tell them dinner will be ready soon. I offer them a drink.
Both ask for only water. A bit unexciting, if you ask me, but I get them their water. Plenty of it in the tap.
‘So,’ I ask, ‘how was your weekend?’ Good question for a bank holiday Monday, eh?
‘Great.’ That’s Ciara Ann speaking. God that is a strong accent. Greeyet. Sounds like Bernadette Devlin sometime around 1969 on a crackly TV and the Bogside erupting. The North. It all looked so far away but it was nearer than you thought.
Ciara Ann looks at Michael, as though to invite him to speak.
‘Great, thanks,’ Michael says.
That’s all he says. Can you credit that? The man’s a high-flying solicitor, usually never stuck for words, and that’s all he says. How’s he going to impress this lady if he leaves it to his elderly father to keep the chat flowing?
‘And how was yours?’ It’s Ciara Ann.
She’s asking me?
‘How was your weekend?’ she asks again, all smiles. Looks like she really wants to know.
Eh?
Just then Mary pokes her head in from the kitchen and rescues me.
‘I’m going to borrow Tom a moment,’ she explains to our guests. ‘Then we’ll be ready.’
Out in the kitchen I slice the beef as Mary sorts the vegetables. And I think about Ciara Ann’s question, the one asking us about our weekend. I mean, for Mary and me, at this stage of our lives, sure isn’t every day just like the next, weekend or not? Outside of Sunday Mass together, Mary does her thing and I do mine.
I bring the dinner plates into the dining room and I see that Michael and Ciara Ann are already seated at the table. Oh?
‘This is wonderful,’ says Ciara Ann, her eyes sweeping the room. ‘Thank you so much for having us.’
There. She’s doing the talking again, talking for the two of them. Mary won’t like that. But, you know what, I think Michael, maybe more than other lads, needs a woman to, well, keep him right. It’s not like there hasn’t been a few of them along the way. There’s been plenty, and you’d just ask yourself why he couldn’t stay with any of them. Now, I don’t want to be making comparisons, but with Mary and me it just seemed right from the very beginning. Walked her home from a rugby club dance. Asked if I could see her again. She made me wait three days. We’re together ever since.

*

As we sit to table, Mary says grace. Grace before meals is sacrosanct in this house, visitors or not. There can be no apology for thanking the Lord for a good repast.
I ask Ciara Ann what wine she would like.
‘I’d love a red,’ she says straight away.
‘Good,’ I say. ‘I’ve a fine fruity one here. One of my favourites.’
Mary will have the same, but Michael goes for the water again. ‘Designated driver,’ he says. I know better than to argue.
The four of us clink glasses. ‘To togetherness,’ I say, why not? To togetherness.
As we tuck in, we chit-chat about the weather, and what’s on TV. Harmless stuff, barely a mention of politics or anything. We find out that Ciara Ann is a teacher. I like that. I’d hate to see Michael with another lawyer. They’re both looking happy and I know Mary’s thinking what I’m thinking.
‘So,’ Mary asks, ‘how did this love story begin?’
Nice one, the way she’s posed it, throwing it out to the two of them.
‘An act of charity,’ Michael chuckles, pouring gravy over his beef.
Oh?
Then Ciara Ann jumps in. ‘It was a fundraiser, a quiz,’ she says. God, listen to that accent. A quaz. ‘A big one,’ she says, ‘maybe fifty tables, teams of four, and we found ourselves lumped in together.’
A bag one. Faftih teeyebles.
‘I arrived late,’ says Michael, glancing at her. ‘All the solicitors’ tables were full, so they put me in with three teachers.’
‘And how did you do in the quiz?’ I ask, maybe too curiously.
‘Oh,’ says Michael nonchalantly. ‘Creditably enough.’ Such a lawyer’s answer, giving nothing away.
‘Och, I think we let Michael down,’ says Ciara Ann, flicking back some wisps of hair from her face. She turns to Michael. ‘Remember the one about the boat?’
The boat?
Michael grins, then frowns. ‘Oh yeah?’ Looks like he doesn’t want to, eh, go there. So Ciara Ann speaks again.
‘There was this question,’ she says, ‘about this quote from a movie, the quote was “we’re gonna need a bigger boat”. We had to name the movie.’
The way she says it, “we’re gonna need a bigger boat”, it sounds a bit scary. Then she starts to giggle.
‘Michael knew the answer,’ she says.
Michael looks at us both. ‘Do you guys know the answer?’ he asks.
You guys!
‘The answer to what?’ I ask.
‘That question,’ he says. ‘About the name of the movie. The movie that that line is taken from.’
‘“We’re gonna need a bigger boat”,’ Mary mouths the words slowly. Funny to hear Mary saying something like that. This Ciara Ann seems to have put everyone on the spot.
I haven’t a clue what the answer is. I’m too old for this. Michael and Ciara Ann look at us, Ciara Ann’s face full of divilment. I see that by now everyone has finished dinner. Isn’t it time for dessert?
Mary’s face brightens. ‘Was it Titanic?’ she asks. Mary’s being a good sport, more power to her.
But Titanic, yes. Sounds to me like a fair answer. Then I see Ciara Ann’s reaction.
‘Titanic!’ she almost screams, then doubles up in laughter, cupping her mouth like a child would, and she turns to Michael, her hair all over the place. ‘Titanic! That’s hilarious!’
My toes curl. Such rudeness. Hilarious, how are ya? But Michael’s laughing too. Whose side is he on?
‘Sorry, Mary!’ Ciara Ann says urgently. ‘Can I call you Mary?’ She knows she’s overstepped the mark. ‘Titanic is the answer I had too,’ she explains, a bit breathless now. ‘And my two friends were sure that was the answer. But his nibs knew better.’ She playfully punches Michael on the shoulder, then asks him, ‘do you want to tell it?’
‘No,’ he smiles. ‘You have the floor.’ And he gently clears more hair from her eyes.
At this I glance at Mary, but she seems not to notice.
‘And what was the answer, Michael?’ I ask him.
‘Jaws,’ says Michael.
Jaws.
‘The one about the shark,’ Michael explains.
Ah yes, the one about the shark. Jaws, God that’s an old one now. I glance again at Mary. When we were younger we would have gone to the pictures a bit. We loved the pictures. But would I have taken her to something like that? I’d say not.
‘A shark?’ Mary asks.
‘Yes, Ma,’ says Michael. ‘A man-eating shark.’
‘Holy moly,’ says Mary.
‘Surely you heard of Jaws, Ma?’ says Michael.
‘Holy moly,’ says Mary a second time. ‘And the quote was, again?’
‘“We’re gonna need a bigger boat”,’ says Ciara Ann. I’d prefer if she’d let Michael say it.
‘God!’ says Mary. ‘And it’s about a man-eating shark. That’s creepy, isn’t it?’
My dear wife, all she wants is for our son to find the right woman, just like our two younger lads did. She couldn’t give two hoots about who answered what in a quiz. Right now I just want to put my arm around her, let her know it’s all grand, it doesn’t matter.
At that moment, Michael reaches out to Mary, puts his hand on hers. ‘Don’t worry, Ma,’ he says, ‘Titanic was a good answer too.’ Now there’s class.
But Ciara Ann isn’t finished. ‘Anyway,’ she says, ‘so there we were at the quiz, three of us teachers and we’re all too young to remember Jaws, so we think the answer is Titanic, and there’s this solicitor, this older man, may I say that?’ – she turns to Michael – ‘and he’s insisting that the answer is Jaws.’
‘I wasn’t insisting!’ Michael protests. Well, sort of a pretend protest.
‘And you were right,’ says Ciara Ann. Then she looks at Mary and me. ‘But do you know what we did?’ She threatens to laugh again. ‘We voted on it. And Michael was outvoted three to one. So the answer we put down was Titanic.’
‘Which was the wrong answer,’ says Michael, sort of playfully. He’s enjoying all this.
‘It was,’ says Ciara Ann, her hand now touching his. In front of us too. She does like him. ‘But at least’, she says, turning to him, ‘you’re a good democrat.’ He grins.
A gud damocrat. I can see her with a megaphone. And him listening on with admiration.
So there you have it, there’s how this love story began. Not exactly Wuthering Heights, is it? But I say nothing.
‘OK,’ says Mary. I think Mary’s had enough. ‘Now who’s for apple crumble?’
‘I think that’ll get a unanimous vote,’ says Michael. Ah. I’ve always liked his wit.
Mary heads out to the kitchen. Michael gathers the dinner plates and follows her. Ciara Ann excuses herself, goes off to powder her nose.
I stay sitting. Have to say she’s a lively lady, this Ciara Ann, no shrinking violet. Asking us about our weekend. As though we’d be out gallivanting.
But each to their own, I suppose. And if they’re happy together … sure that’s the main thing, isn’t it?
Isn’t that all we would want for them? That they would be – well – as happy as we are?

*

And it’s got me thinking, you know, wouldn’t it be nice if Mary and I went out to the pictures? God knows when we last went. There must be some good ones. Why don’t we go some night?
I’m going to ask her, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m sure she’d like to go. Wouldn’t she? Or would she think I’ve gone nuts? Sure how will I know if I don’t ask? Even just to be out together, come to think of it. Like we used to do.
I’ll ask her maybe tonight, after we’ve said goodbye to Michael and his girlfriend. Tonight, when we’ll have something to talk about. Tonight, when it’ll be just the two of us again.