One Hundred Names (Special Edition)

family she couldn’t help but notice how distant Birdie seemed. Conversation was flowing all around her but not
to
her or even in her direction. Now and then somebody would deliver part of the sentence to her and she would momentarily snap out of her trance to smile and nod, but at the soonest opportunity she would drift again.
    ‘Sorry to interrupt you,’ Molly said cheerfully. ‘You have a visitor, Birdie.’
    They all looked up at Kitty. Kitty looked at Birdie apologetically and made her way round to her. ‘Birdie, I’m so sorry I’m late.’
    ‘Not at all.’ Her face seemed genuinely to light up and Kitty was pleased.
    Birdie stood and held Kitty’s hand warmly as she introduced her to the family.
    ‘This is Kitty Logan, a friend of mine. Kitty, this is my daughter, Caroline, this is her daughter, Alice, and she has a son, Edward, but he’s studying for his finals at Trinity at the moment.’
    Caroline looked proud so Kitty mouthed a wow.
    ‘This is Alice’s son, Levi, my great-grandchild. This is my eldest son, Cormac, his son, Barry, and Barry’s two children, Ruán and Thomas.’ Two young boys barely looked up from their game consoles. ‘This is Seán, his wife, Kathleen, and their youngest son, Clive. Their daughter, Gráinne, lives in Australia with her husband doing … what is it now, Kathleen?’
    ‘Computer software analysis.’
    ‘That’s it.’ And Birdie continued through the group, two more sons, one wife and one partner and some of their children, some of whom were polite and others who couldn’t care less if she were the Queen of Sheba. Soon Kitty had no idea who was who, and as soon as she sat down beside Birdie, a position she was honoured to hold, Birdie’s daughter – her only daughter, Caroline – started talking. And she didn’t stop. Not for one second. Not for a breath. She commanded the conversation, telling anecdote after anecdote,
long
anecdotes, without bringing anyone else in at all. Occasionally a son or two would pipe up with something and a daughter-in-law would fill in gaps, refresh their memories, correct a mistake, but all the conversation, if it could be called that, was directed, produced, edited and starred in by Caroline. She was an elegant, well-dressed, well-spoken woman, with a wonderful turn of phrase and language skills, and had an impressive amount of knowledge on various topics. She was used to speaking, comfortable with her anecdotes and recanted them in an interesting way, but it was so constant that her voice – the sheer Caroline-ness of it all – began to bother Kitty. Birdie was quiet, rarely referred to; she was merely the reason for the visit, not the subject of it. Kitty kept waiting for the attention to turn to Birdie, or for one of the grandchildren or great-grandchildren to say something, until each time Caroline started a new subject, Kitty wanted to leap across the table and strangle her. She wasn’t sure if it was the hangover, the searing heat, and the irritating wasps circulating about their heads that made it all worse, but the only thing she could hear were words jumbling around that didn’t make any sense at all.
    Molly appeared by Birdie’s side again, and without a word handed Birdie a small cup of brightly coloured pills and a glass of water. It was only then that Caroline chose to stop talking to turn her attention to her mother. When Caroline looked, everybody else looked, which made it rather uncomfortable for Birdie. Molly noticed them all staring.
    ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ Molly said, and despite the fact that it was an ordinary comment, everything she said in her Drogheda accent sounded brash, almost sarcastic, as if she meant something else but wouldn’t say. Perhaps it was the way her eyes glistened mischievously, her confident air, that gave the idea she didn’t feel anyone was better than she was, which of course she was right to believe, but she came across as defiant, as though she knew everyone thought they were better and she was constantly fighting it.
    ‘What are you giving her?’ Caroline asked, and it bothered Kitty that she hadn’t asked her mother that question.
    They carried out a conversation about Birdie’s drugs, why she was taking them, and then Caroline in turn suggested other drugs she should be on and happily debated with Molly on how she was right. Caroline, it seemed, was either well up on her drugs or else she was a doctor. She was one who knew all about the craft but had no