Page 26 of The Snag List
‘Lindy!’ Clíodhna, the creator of a WhatsApp group, Monteray Mamas, that Lindy had fled the second she was added, greeted her. ‘How are you?’
‘All good, the usual really.’ Lindy smiled. ‘Work, house to-do list unending, impending summer-camp dramz! Anyone else’s child like Damien fromThe Omen?’
‘Oh yes, absolutely. Olwen is the fucking worst. I mean, I hate her. She’s seven and I hate her.’ Sinéad was a harried mother of four who was incredibly high powered – her architecture firm had offices in London, New York and Dubai – and, like all the other women in Monteray, seemed to be physically untouched by motherhood. They all had incredibly expensive athleisure gear, always worn with the perfect blow-dry and the requisite rake of diamonds on their fingers. When exactly did they get around to the athletic side of their athleisure? Lindy pictured Sinéad flying business class to New York, barking down the phone to subordinates while a personal trainer moved her limbs for her.
As the other assembled women piled in to bitch about their kids, Lindy scanned the room and spotted Roe beside Eddie, deep in a group that the Snag List had dubbed the Sports Casual Dads. Anthropologically, they were essentially the male equivalent of the Athleisure Mamas, only their look was extremely expensive surf gear and classic male brands like Hugo Boss for shades and watches. It went without saying that each cohort was extremely, buttastefully, tanned.
A frantic communication of head shaking and grimacing passed between Roe and Lindy as each tried to break away to join the other’s group. Then Lindy felt her phone buzz. She subtly checked the message as Clíodhna and Sinéad waged an odd, pointless war over who had put on more rosé bloat since the start of May. Objectively speaking: neither of them. Tedious stuff.
ROE: I’m coming over. Believe me, the Athleisure Mamas could not be worse than Sports Casual Dads.
LINDY: I dunno, they’re fat shaming themselves over here.
ROE: Yuck. Still, I’ll take my chances – one of the Sports Casual Dads just asked Eddie when he’d be ‘duffing me up’. Vom.
LINDY: Sheesh. OK, well, you were warned.
Lindy smiled as Roe ploughed through the crowd that was energetically downing canapés and booze as kids ran in and out from the garden, where at least nine party entertainers of different genres were directing proceedings.
‘Hi, Roe!’ Clíodhna welcomed Roe warmly.
‘I love your … what are they … overalls?’ Sinéad couldn’t hide her visible confusion at Roe’s aesthetic.
‘They’re shorteralls, like shorts and overalls had a love-child.’ Roe smiled gamely.
‘So clever,’ Clíodhna echoed, in the tone normally reserved for commending an eccentric child – which was basically what Roe appeared to be to these women.
‘We were just saying howhorrificour children are.’ Sinéad rolled her eyes ruefully as she tossed back her bubbles.
‘Right …’ Roe smiled mildly and Lindy squirmed a little in anticipation of someone inevitably putting their foot in it.
‘Any sign of pitter patter for you and Eddie, Roe?’ Sinéad leaned in eagerly for Roe’s answer but Clíodhna was quicker off the mark.
‘Of course there is!’ she cut in. ‘You don’t buy a six-bed in Monteray Valley without some plans for reproducing, am I right, Roe?’ Clíodhna winked at Roe, who was still smiling impassively.
‘Have you started trying?’ Annie, a film producer, piled in on the interrogation.
‘We’re taking it slowly.’ Roe was being patient but Lindy knew she hated this subject.
‘Cheers to that.’ Clíodhna raised her glass. ‘If I could go back and do it all over … I don’t know if I would even have them.’
Lindy was surprised. From their brief interactions, she’d filed the Monteray Mamas under that category of women whose main schtick was complaining relentlessly about their kids but who would shy away from ever directly saying they regretted having them. Wanting to un-have your kids was not something you could put on a snag list, and Lindy looked around cautiously, checking if Clíodhna’s kids, Taidgh and Milo, were in earshot. Luckily Rachel, who appeared beside her at that very moment, had more or less quarantined the children so the adults could have fun at this child’s birthday party.
‘Uh-oh …’ Rachel grinned, her eyes shining. ‘Is Clíodhna on a downer about life choices? Want to go powder your nose, hun? Use the en suite on the second floor.’
‘Oh, really? I’ll come too.’ Sinéad perked up and the two made for the door.
Bizarre. Can they literally not even break away from the pack to fix their make-up?
‘You gals are welcome to as well?’ Rachel smiled kindly at Lindy and Roe. Before Lindy could answer this strange invitation, Ailbhe appeared from the hall in skintight black jeans and a grey marl tee, baby Tilly clamped to her hip. ‘Rachel,’ she said as she joined the group. ‘You fucking legend. If I’d known this was gonna be such a rager, I wouldn’t have brought the bloody baby.’
‘Give her to one of the nannies.’ Rachel indicated vaguely in the direction of the front playroom where, on the way in, Lindy had spotted a portion of the child contingent glued to a movie. ‘Where are the Bellinis?’ Rachel drifted off in search of a waiter.
‘Oh my God, gals, hilarious, I thought this party was going to be stiff as fuck.’ Ailbhe came to stand beside Lindy and Roe.
‘And it’s not?’ Lindy couldn’t quite name it but something was up with Ailbhe. ‘Have you just had your Botox topped up?’
‘Lindy!’ Ailbhe crowed, startling both baby Tilly and Roe. ‘I wouldn’t put that shite in my face!’ She leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Rachel’s set up a little pep station in one of the en suites upstairs.’
