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It’s just another ordinary evening - pleasant and lovely, no drama, no crises now that the resident Prick has been dead over a year. They’re seated around the dining table indulging in Eva’s latest experiment in the way of fresh salmon, and when the conversation lulls for a moment, Grace pipes up, trying and failing, very badly, to be perfectly casual. “I’ve got some news for you girls.” Her fingers are laced together, her chin resting atop them, shimmering with nervous excitement. “It’s a little - unexpected, I think, and you might have some questions, and a lot of thoughts, but give me a chance to explain, all right?”
Everyone shoots each other wary, questioning glances. Blanaid? Becka mouths, which is a much more sensible guess than Bibi mouthing is she pregnant?! or Urs’ panicked charades of throat-slitting and frantic shrugging. What is wrong with them? Eva’s pretty sure Grace hasn’t gone and put a baby inside herself, or murdered someone new; sending Blanaid off to boarding school or some equally wild idea seems marginally more likely, if still absurd. “Tell us, love, let’s hear it.”
Grace bites her lip and slides her gaze around the table, meeting all their eyes in turn. “I’ve, um, started seeing somebody. Someone I met at the bereavement group.”
Urs actually sighs in relief, her hands cupped over her mouth; Bibi kicks her under the table, hard. “That’s wonderful, Grace,” she says, the brightness in her voice turned up to eleven, clearly fishing for details to make sure they don’t have JP 2.0 on their hands in the near future. “Tell us all about him, then, is he from around here?”
No answer for a long moment, which is, in fairness, very worrying (oh, God, they really don't want to have to try and murder another man). Grace appears to bite her lip even harder and shrink into herself, clearly scrabbling for the right thing to say. She takes a fortifying sip of white wine and finally replies, in a rush, “so the thing is, well, it’s actually - not a man?”
Eva, who’d made the mistake of also drinking her wine, sputters into her glass. Bibi’s eyebrows shoot up about three feet. Becka plonks her elbows on the table and leans in to squint at Grace, looking very serious. “You’re seeing a woman?” She clarifies, and a grin spreads across her face when Grace nods, head ducked down, blushing furiously. “Wow! Grace, you dark horse, you. Well done!” She throws an arm around Grace’s shoulders and fixes a ferocious glare on the rest of her sisters that clearly means, say something fucking supportive, you eejits! “Who is she? Don’t hold back on us now, we want to make sure she’s good enough for our Grace.”
“Um,” Grace says, her voice getting even softer and more uncertain. “Well. It’s. Um. It might be… Angelica?”
Eva thanks Christ she didn’t go for another gulp of wine. The girls swing around as one to stare at Grace, Urs’ jaw dropping practically to chest-level. “Angelica? Collins?”
“Angelica who runs the group?”
“Roger’s sister Angelica? Our Roger?”
“Angelica who’s so bloody pi it’d weird out the actual Pope?” It’s Becka’s turn to receive a Bibi kick-under-the-table, but thankfully Grace just laughs, still flushed adorably pink. “I said it was unexpected. And you promised you’d let me explain.” She takes a deep breath, and it’s not lost on any of them how her eyes light up, how her smile is wide and genuine in a way it never was when she was with JP, not even at the beginning. “I know she seems odd to - well, everyone. But we’ve been talking a lot at group, and after, actually, and - she’s lovely, she’s so sweet, she’s… she’s been dealt a tough hand, all her life, and all it’s done is make her want to help others. She’s so kind, and funny, in her own way. It’s new to both of us, being with a woman,” she adds. “We’re figuring things out together. She makes me feel - safe, and heard, like I belong.” Grace beams, so bright. “I’m really happy, girls. I am.”
The mood around the table has shifted, from surprise to pleasant, cozy, supportive warmth. They gather closer around Grace for a group hug, and everyone’s smiling; Grace inhales and wipes away a few tears, a little wobbly. “Oh, God. I’m so glad you lot took that well. I was just a bit terrified that you wouldn’t understand, that you’d tell me I was - mucking my life up again.”
“Oh, love, you didn’t have to be, come here.” Eva holds her tight, pressing a comforting kiss to Grace’s temple. “Angelica sounds lovely, and it’s wonderful you’re learning more about who you are, too. We’re so happy for you, darling.”
“Yeah,” Bibi adds, clearly trying for humour. “And, hey, welcome to the Gay Garvey club! Just like that, the number of members has doubled - from one, to two!”
Grace laughs and accepts a cheeky high-five from Bibi, leaning into the fiercely loving, supportive hug that follows. It takes them both a second, after that, to take in the sudden, charged, and very, very awkward silence that hangs over the dining room. Urs has gone bright scarlet, and Eva is shovelling sloppy chunks of salmon onto her plate with quite unnecessary focus. Bibi narrows her eyes and looks away from Grace’s sweetly confused face to say, very slowly, “now hold on a right fucking second. What the hell is that about?”
“Nothing.” “Nothing!” Jesus, they are bad liars in this family; how nobody other than Matthew Claffin discovered the truth about the Prick, Bibi will never know. She points her fork at Eva, stares hard, doesn’t let up. “No. Nobody at this table is believing that. Out with it. What, have you magically become gay too?”
Eva mumbles incoherently around her mouthful of salmon. Bibi squints, thinks hard for a minute, and then slaps her fork back down onto the table, laughing. “Oh my God. You have! You are! You’re totally going out with someone. And I know exactly who.”
“Who?” Becka immediately asks, deeply interested, irritatingly so. Eva opens her mouth to give Bibi the full-name treatment and a threat with it, but Bibi just laughs some more, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “We’ve already met her. God, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before this. It’s Eileen, right? Your so-called ‘menopause coach’?”
Eva’s flaming cheeks and sullen silence are good enough an answer. “She is my menopause coach,” she mutters. Bibi raises her eyebrows, dubious, and Eva amends, “okay, fine, she was, before we started seeing each other. That is how it started out, alright? I wasn’t just making up weird job titles for the hell of it.”
Grace makes an affectionate noise, putting an arm around Eva and rubbing her shoulder. “Of course, Eileen - no wonder you've been having her around so often. Oh, Eva, good for you, she’s such a sweetheart, such a good conversationalist, and she’s always got along so well with all of us.”
“And she’s fit,” Bibi adds, shrugging nonchalantly when Eva glares at her. “What? It’s true.”
“You’re married, leave off my girlfriend,” says Eva. Bibi snorts and wraps her arms around Eva’s neck, pressing her cheek to Eva’s. “So, how long have you two been going out?”
“A while. Grace is right, she is a sweetheart. Things are great. And that is all the relationship-related information that you are getting out of me, you nosey shits. End of conversation.”
Becka rolls her eyes, pouting. “You are no fun.”
“Don’t worry about it, Becka, we’ll just interrogate Eileen the next time she comes over.” Bibi expertly dodges Eva’s arm punch and comes around to Urs, who’s remained conspicuously silent, pretending to be occupied with her dinner. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ursula, I saw you go full tomato too. Did you meet some pretty girl on your blind dates and fall arse over tits for her?”
“No, and for the record, I’m never doing a blind date ever again. Did I tell you girls that I got paired up with Fergal bloody Loftus, for God’s sake. Can you believe that? When I sat down at the restaurant I thought I was about to piss myself.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Becka says. “Who are you dating, then, if it’s not Mr Bigshot Detective Inspector?”
“Nobody.” Everyone, even Grace, makes rudely disbelieving psh noises, and Urs rolls her eyes. “Believe it or don’t, it’s true. I just… realised some things about myself, after the divorce. About being bisexual,” she clarifies; the word rolls off her tongue like she’s been practicing it, testing the tones and syllables behind her teeth for a long time. “But I’m not seeing anyone right now. That’s all.”
Bibi’s expression has softened from its curious, sharp amusement, and she links her fingers with Urs’, bumping their shoulders in quiet solidarity. “Good for you,” she murmurs, gentle and genuine in a way she usually isn’t with Urs. Urs smiles and squeezes her hand, thankful for Bibi’s support. “Did it just… come to you?”
“No,” Urs admits. “I - met someone, and she made me consider a little more deeply about my… about who I am, and who I want, and all of that.”
Everyone’s looking at her now, sympathy and understanding radiating off her sisters in waves. Grace asks, softly, “are you in love with her?”
Urs shrugs, slightly alarmed at the hint of tears springing to her eyes. Christ, it’s a really nice night, with these revelations coming to the fore, and bringing all of them closer together; she is not fucking ruining it by breaking down over unrequited feelings, of all things. “Maybe. I’m not sure. She’s taken, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Do we know her?” Becka asks, then reads the hesitation in Urs’ hunched shoulders and quickly continues, “you don’t have to tell us, Urs. We can stop talking about it, if you want.”
She sort of does, because she might actually cry in a second, like a bloody child - but Grace was honest with them, even though she was scared, and Eva was too, despite her reluctance, and it feels unfair not to be, in turn. And they’re her sisters - they’ve covered up a murder together, for God’s sake. She can talk to them about this. “It’s Ally.” Bibi inhales a sharp, surprised breath and Urs says, “yes, Donal’s new girlfriend Ally. I know, I know, trust me, whatever you lot are thinking, I’ve already beaten myself up over a hundred times.” She tips her head back and stares at the ceiling, unable to look them in the eyes when she adds, “and the worst thing is, I don’t think it’s just… her? I just - every time I think about her, I think about Donal too. All of those blind dates couldn’t take my mind off him. And then I met her, and got to know her properly, and she’s just there, too, in my head. All the time.”
“Oh, Urs,” Eva murmurs, reaching across the table to take Urs’ other hand in hers. “Hey. That must be hard, honey. You can talk to us. We’re here for you.”
“Thanks, Eva.” Urs sighs and drops her head against Bibi’s shoulder. “God. First I fuck up my marriage, and then fuck things up with Ben, too, and now I spend all my time missing my ex-husband and thinking about his girlfriend, all while we’re working at the same hospital.” She says, mournfully, “maybe I should have called Fergal up for another date after all.”
“Strongly disagree,” Bibi replies. “It’ll be fine, Urs. Promise. You could try talking to them about it, you know,” she suggests. “Open relationships are dead popular these days. Maybe you three could work something out.”
Urs is torn between laughter and a real sense of heartache, of want, that she doesn’t really want to interrogate over dinner with her sisters. “Maybe,” she mumbles. “Can we talk about something else for now, please?”
“Course we can.” Bibi glances around the table and says, lightheartedly, deliberately mischievous, “how about the fact that we can now tease Becka for being the token straight Garvey?”
Becka glares daggers at Bibi; Bibi readies herself for a snarky comeback, but none of them are remotely prepared for her response, dripping with offense, “excuse me, I’ve had several serious girlfriends, so that is very rude.”
Bibi’s eyes almost pop out of her head. “Wait, what?” It’s echoed by Urs, who shoots back up in her seat, jaw dropping once more. “What?!”
“Really, Becka? We didn’t know that.” Grace only looks mildly startled, clearly more braced for surprises since she dropped the first bombshell of the night. Eva, on the other hand, looks like she might have a blue fit and go up in smoke. “WHAT? You’ve had partners I didn’t know about?! WHEN?!” (Bibi rolls her eyes. Mammy Eva strikes again. Some things, at least, never change.)
Becka shoots Eva a deeply scornful look. “Of course I’ve dated people you didn’t know about, Eva,” she says, very slowly, like she’s talking to a small child, and not the eldest sister who raised her. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re shocked that I don’t tell you lot about everyone I date. Look at how you three flipped your lids over Matt.”
“Matthew Claffin was trying to do us in for MURDERING John Paul,” Eva reminds her, clearly tempted to shriek it, and also clearly despairing over how Becka never tells her anything. Grace pats her back soothingly and asks, “but why did you never tell us, love?”
Becka shrugs. “None of the girlfriends lasted, obviously, so it didn’t feel that important. And it never felt like a huge deal to me - it’s just another part of who I am.” She sucks in a breath between her teeth and continues, quieter, “the four of you know almost everything about me. My entire life, since I was born. There were some things I just wanted to keep for myself. At least for a while.”
Baby Becka, Bibi wants to say, with all the fondness in her heart, but thinks better of it, just ruffles her baby sister’s hair and rests her chin against the top of her head for a moment, affectionate. Urs says, loving, gentle, “thank you for telling us, Becka. It means a lot, sweetie.”
They sit in comfortable silence for a minute, arms wrapped around one another, holding hands, processing the conversation; after some time, Bibi says, thoughtfully, “you know, this means that none of us are straight. That’s pretty cool. I mean, what are the odds, right?”
“Next thing you know, Eva will be telling us Mam and Dad weren’t straight, either,” Becka laughs.
Eva and Grace say, almost absently, and in seriously creepy unison, “they weren’t.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Am I dreaming? Am I having a stroke? Bibi wonders. Urs whips around to stare at them, eyes wide as saucers. “What? What do you mean? How do you know that? How come I don't know that? What?”
“Errm,” Eva replies eloquently, shooting Grace a pleading look; Grace smiles awkwardly and says, “it really wasn’t a big deal, honestly. I don’t think they ever labelled themselves or anything, they couldn’t be as open as we can - not in their time.”
“How do you know, then?” Bibi frowns at Eva, a little upset. “Eva. You knew, and you didn’t tell me? The first sister you found out was gay?”
“To be fair, Bibi, when you came out to me, you were crying your bloody eyes out, asking if I was going to hate you. I had other priorities.”
Bibi pulls a face, but makes a gesture with one hand, fair enough. Grace exchanges more glances with Eva and continues, “it was only this one time, when we were tuning the piano - Mam talked to me about having feelings for more than just men, when she was in school, but she never had time or opportunity to explore further. I don't think it was something she'd thought about that much, especially considering how young she was when she married Dad. And Dad, well… Eva knows better than me.”
“I don’t really - I mean, yes, but - well - argh,” Eva groans. “Only because I had to clear Dad’s study after they died, alright? And his journals were in the cupboards, and I was missing him so much, I just decided to sit down and read them, for a bit. See his words on the page, in his hand, hear his voice again, in my head.”
Becka gasps. “Oh no. Please, please tell me he didn’t write about graphic sexual encounters with lads at school or something like that. Oh my God.”
Eva stares at her, horrified, and very grossed out. “No, Becka! Jesus! Why would you put that image in my head? Fucking hell.” She presses her fingers to her temples, brows knitted. “He just wrote about a relationship he’d had with a schoolmate, two years older than him, I think. A little bit before he met Mam. It was coded, sort of, but you could tell what he was trying to say. It was…” Eva’s voice gets shakier, her lips pulled tight. “They could have led really different lives. Maybe in a different time. That’s all. They couldn't, they didn't - but they'd be so happy for us, you know? No - they are, I know they are. That we get to live in a totally different world, that we can talk openly about who we are, who we want, at the dinner table. All of us. They would be so fucking proud.”
That lingers, echoing around the dining room, sinking onto their shoulders like a welcome weight. “Fuck,” Bibi says quietly, which pretty much sums it up. Her eyes are red, wet with tears, and so are everyone else’s, really. “I just - wow. I - I did cry when I came out to Eva, I was so - scared, and I felt so alone," she admits. "And now, tonight, I’m suddenly finding out that was never true? I was never really alone, not ever. And I get to carry that part of Mam and Dad in me, even though they couldn't watch me grow up. We all do.” She bites her lip and reaches over to hold Grace’s hand. “You started this, Grace. By telling us about Angelica. Thank you.”
“I love you girls so much,” says Grace. They hold each other, five sisters who have one another’s backs until the end of time. Closer than they’ve ever been, knowing each other more deeply now than before, and Eva knows it’s never been more true - that Mam and Dad are so, so proud of their daughters.
After everyone’s done sniffling and discreetly wiping their eyes, they sit back down for dessert and the last of the wine. Becka spoons ice cream into her mouth and says, “so, now that we've put all that on the table... for the next Pride Parade - how about we enter a Garvey contingent? We can rent a float and do some live karaoke for everyone in Dublin to enjoy. Greatest Gay Hits of All Time. What do you say?”
“Oh, no.” “Absolutely not.” “I would quite literally rather swim the Forty Foot on the coldest day of winter.” “Just no, Becka. No.”
“You lot are seriously no fun.”