Free From Here to Maternity by Sinéad Moriarty Page B

flashing lights were very tacky.
    ‘Well, how are you both?’ asked Mum.
    ‘Great,’ said Sean.
    ‘Cool,’ said Babs.
    ‘How did the meeting go, Barbara? Did you sign your contract?’
    ‘She stupidly signed her life away for two hundred quid a week even though I told her not to agree to anything until I had looked it over.’
    ‘It’s only for the first three months. After that I’ll get a raise. But until then I’m going to need you to help me out, Dad.’
    Dad shook his head. ‘You’ve bled me dry for twenty-four years and you’re on your own now. It’ll do you good to learn to budget.’
    ‘Daaaad! There is no way I can survive on two hundred quid a week. It’ll barely cover my tube pass. Do you want me to live in a hovel with no running water or electricity in some dodgy area in London and get mugged coming home at night after a long day’s work?’
    ‘I pity the poor fool who tries to mug you,’ said Dad, grinning. ‘Besides, the last I heard you were living in the lap of luxury with your brother.’
    ‘Who has had enough of her, thanks very much,’ said Sean. ‘She’s out on her ear in January.’
    ‘Ah, Sean, would you not put her up for the first three months until she finds her feet?’ pleaded Mum. ‘That way you could keep an eye on her. I don’t want her getting mixed up with a racy television crowd.’
    ‘It’s not just me. There’s Shadee to consider, too.’
    ‘Well,’ sniffed Mum, ‘maybe Shady could go home to her parents for a few months before the big day, like a good Catholic girl would.’
    ‘First of all, it’s Shadee – Sh-a-dee. Second, you’re going to have to get used to the fact that she is not Catholic, nor ever will be. Third, you seem to have conveniently forgotten that Emma lived with James for two years before they got married.’
    I decided to jump in before Mum started having a go at me for being a loose woman pre-marriage. ‘Speaking of weddings, any developments with your plans?’ I asked Sean, as Mum bristled beside me.
    ‘Yes, it’s all booked. April the twenty-second at Abigail House near Brighton. It’s a lovely old country manor overlooking the sea.’
    ‘I thought Shady wanted to get married in Cornwall,’ said Mum.
    ‘We thought the drive would be a bit long for all the guests travelling from Ireland so we compromised and chose Brighton because it’s only half an hour on the train from Gatwick. It’s a lovely place, Mum, you’ll like it.’
    ‘Is the church close by?’ asked Mum.
    ‘What church?’ said Sean, evenly.
    ‘The church you’re getting married in,’ said Mum, digging her heels in.
    ‘There isn’t going to be any Catholic church. Shadee is Muslim.’
    ‘She said she didn’t practise her faith so I presumed, seeing as you do, it’d be a church wedding.’
    ‘Mum, this may come as a surprise to you but I haven’t been to mass in about fifteen years. It’s fair to say that neither of us practises our religion, so we’re just going to have a blessing.’
    Mum looked at him blankly.
    ‘We’ve found a Unitarian minister who’s going to marry us in an open ceremony. We’ll have a few general readings and exchange our vows. It should be all over in about twenty minutes.’
    ‘Unitarian, did you say?’ asked Mum.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Is that some kind of cult?’
    ‘No. Unlike the Catholic Church, which spends most of its time damning other people for their beliefs and life choices, the Unitarian Church welcomes people of any faith, nationality, race and sexual orientation. It promotes freedom in religion, spiritual growth and social justice,’ said Sean, sounding a bit like a brainwashed cult member.
    Mum stared at Dad.
    ‘I see. Well, that sounds great, but you’ve not actually joined this church, have you?’ asked Dad. ‘They haven’t asked you to give them any money, have they?’
    Sean groaned. ‘It’s not a bloody cult and, no, I haven’t converted. It’s just a good solution to our very different