In My Sister's Shoes Read Online Free PDF
Author: Sinéad Moriarty
precious star.’
‘Donna, calm down. I can explain.’
‘It’d better be good.’
‘I found out yesterday that my sister has breast cancer. I was upset and a bit distracted during the interview, but it’s all sorted now. I’ve apologized and pieced together a decent segment for the show. The thing is, though, I have to go home and be with my family for a while. It’ll just be for a month or so,’ I lied. ‘I was thinking maybe I could tape the show from Dublin or something.’ I was grasping at straws.
‘Look, Kate, I’m really sorry to hear about your sister, but we can’t shoot the show from Dublin,’ said Donna, cursing under her breath. She had a show to air and no presenter.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ I said, trying to sound blasé . ‘Why don’t you get Colin to fill in for a few weeks?’ I was desperate not to have some younger, fitter girl take over my precious show.
‘Yeah, maybe. I’ll have a think,’ said Donna. ‘How many weeks will you be gone? We need to know.’
‘It’s hard to say exactly, but it’ll probably stretch to a couple of months,’ I said, and watched Donna’s face fall.
‘Two?’
‘Maybe three or four,’ I said, hating the words.
‘Bloody typical! I manage to find someone really good and now this happens. You’re one of the best we’ve had and, let’s be honest, the male audience doesn’t just tune in for your accent or your one-liners – your legs were a big asset. Anyway, I’d better get on with finding someone to take your place. Good luck, keep in touch.’ Donna already considered me old goods.
In this business you get one shot and you work hard and cling to it until a better offer comes your way. You never, ever walk away from a good job in the limelight and hand your profile over to someone else on a silver platter. My heart plummeted. I’d be forgotten in no time. I felt sick.
I thanked Donna and went into the bathroom and wept – for Fiona, my mother and myself.
6
As I sat on the plane, looking out the window, I thought about Dad and the difficult life he had led. Born and reared in a small town ten miles outside Galway, he was the eldest of seven children. His father had died when he was thirteen and his mother was barely able to make ends meet. So, aged fourteen he left school and went out to find work. His first job was as an usher in a small cinema in Galway. There and then he fell in love with the movies. Within three years he was manager, and two years later he took out a loan to buy a run-down building in the centre of Galway, which he transformed into a three-screen cinema – the first in the city. A few years later, he was in Dublin, looking at the way the big cinemas were run, when he met and fell head over heels in love with Sarah Boland, a beautiful nurse. He was a plain, working-class man, but he was funny and made her laugh like no one else could. Within a year they were married. He sold up in Galway and bought the George cinema in Dublin. Nine years later they had accumulated two daughters, a son and two more cinemas.
From what I can remember they were happy to gether. So, when Mum died, not only was he heartbroken but he had been left alone to raise three young children. Poor Dad had no idea how to cope with two growing daughters, not to mind a babyson. When Fiona had come into his room aged thirteen to say she had just got her period, Dad had turned a deep shade of purple, then taken her to the chemist and asked the assistant to show her what products she needed while he waited outside. By the time I got my period, at twelve, Dad was used to seeing Tampax and sanitary towels on the shopping list.
However, he had struggled with the sex-education issue. He knew what it was like to be a horny teenager and he didn’t want pimply youths with raging hormones near his girls. So he gave Fiona and me a book on how the body works – which he discreetly wrapped in brown paper so that we wouldn’t be embarrassed
‘Donna, calm down. I can explain.’
‘It’d better be good.’
‘I found out yesterday that my sister has breast cancer. I was upset and a bit distracted during the interview, but it’s all sorted now. I’ve apologized and pieced together a decent segment for the show. The thing is, though, I have to go home and be with my family for a while. It’ll just be for a month or so,’ I lied. ‘I was thinking maybe I could tape the show from Dublin or something.’ I was grasping at straws.
‘Look, Kate, I’m really sorry to hear about your sister, but we can’t shoot the show from Dublin,’ said Donna, cursing under her breath. She had a show to air and no presenter.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ I said, trying to sound blasé . ‘Why don’t you get Colin to fill in for a few weeks?’ I was desperate not to have some younger, fitter girl take over my precious show.
‘Yeah, maybe. I’ll have a think,’ said Donna. ‘How many weeks will you be gone? We need to know.’
‘It’s hard to say exactly, but it’ll probably stretch to a couple of months,’ I said, and watched Donna’s face fall.
‘Two?’
‘Maybe three or four,’ I said, hating the words.
‘Bloody typical! I manage to find someone really good and now this happens. You’re one of the best we’ve had and, let’s be honest, the male audience doesn’t just tune in for your accent or your one-liners – your legs were a big asset. Anyway, I’d better get on with finding someone to take your place. Good luck, keep in touch.’ Donna already considered me old goods.
In this business you get one shot and you work hard and cling to it until a better offer comes your way. You never, ever walk away from a good job in the limelight and hand your profile over to someone else on a silver platter. My heart plummeted. I’d be forgotten in no time. I felt sick.
I thanked Donna and went into the bathroom and wept – for Fiona, my mother and myself.
6
As I sat on the plane, looking out the window, I thought about Dad and the difficult life he had led. Born and reared in a small town ten miles outside Galway, he was the eldest of seven children. His father had died when he was thirteen and his mother was barely able to make ends meet. So, aged fourteen he left school and went out to find work. His first job was as an usher in a small cinema in Galway. There and then he fell in love with the movies. Within three years he was manager, and two years later he took out a loan to buy a run-down building in the centre of Galway, which he transformed into a three-screen cinema – the first in the city. A few years later, he was in Dublin, looking at the way the big cinemas were run, when he met and fell head over heels in love with Sarah Boland, a beautiful nurse. He was a plain, working-class man, but he was funny and made her laugh like no one else could. Within a year they were married. He sold up in Galway and bought the George cinema in Dublin. Nine years later they had accumulated two daughters, a son and two more cinemas.
From what I can remember they were happy to gether. So, when Mum died, not only was he heartbroken but he had been left alone to raise three young children. Poor Dad had no idea how to cope with two growing daughters, not to mind a babyson. When Fiona had come into his room aged thirteen to say she had just got her period, Dad had turned a deep shade of purple, then taken her to the chemist and asked the assistant to show her what products she needed while he waited outside. By the time I got my period, at twelve, Dad was used to seeing Tampax and sanitary towels on the shopping list.
However, he had struggled with the sex-education issue. He knew what it was like to be a horny teenager and he didn’t want pimply youths with raging hormones near his girls. So he gave Fiona and me a book on how the body works – which he discreetly wrapped in brown paper so that we wouldn’t be embarrassed