"Jenny and I aren't married . .. we never saw the need . .." Jody began.
"No, no ... in French it is the same word, wife and woman."
"So it is," Jody said, but his eyes were on his father. "Do you want to open your message from the office, Dad? It might be important," he said humbly.
Martin was almost too choked to speak. "Nothing is as important as this," he stammered eventually. "I'm so very pleased for you both, and for me, and maybe . . . maybe . . ." his voice broke, ". .. maybe there's even a way your mother might know."
"Of course she does," Jody beamed.
Yan stood back as if he expected the two men to stand up and embrace ... and with one movement they did. Something they had never done before. Almost embarrassed, they sat down and looked at each other.
"Now, please, Dad, open the message. It's making me nervous," Jody said.
Kit had written to say that they had got the corporate contract and she had taken the liberty of ordering champagne to celebrate with the American partners. "Everyone is so pleased, Martin," Kit wrote. "You've made this place much more like a family than a workplace. Well done from all of us."
Martin felt almost weak as he read these words.
What had he been thinking of to want to change Kit?
She was utterly essential to the office the way she was.
Thank God he had said nothing to her, it would have been unforgivable.
Jody talked on about names and plans and how he would look after the baby as much as Jenny would.
"I wish I had done that with you," Martin said slowly.
"I asked Mother about that, but she said you had far too short a fuse for minding a child," said Jody, who didn't seem to have an ounce of resentment in his body.
"When I say goodbye to the people in the boardroom this evening, can I come around to you and Jenny to celebrate?"
Jody looked at him in amazement. His father had never been to his flat. Perhaps the short fuse wasn't as important for grandfathers. When Maggie Nolan did so well in her Leaving Certificate, her father said it was something that called for a Serious Celebration. The Nolan family were going out to have dinner in a hotel.
This had never happened before. They had never even been in an ordinary restaurant, let alone a hotel restaurant. Other people went to the Chinese or the Italian - the country was becoming cosmopolitan. Well, some of it was.
But not the Nolans.
There was never the money to spare. There was so much to pay for and so many calls on their time. Mrs. Nolan's mam lived with them, for one thing, and Mr. Nolan's dad had to have his dinner cooked for him and taken over to his flat every day.
Mr. Nolan worked in charge of the bacon counter at one of those old-fashioned grocery stores that people said were on the way out. He was very happy and well-respected there but, of course, if the store really were on the way out, it would be hard for Mr. Nolan to get another job.
Mrs. Nolan worked as a cleaner in the hospital. She was very popular with the nurses and with the patients, but the hours were long and tiring, her veins were bad, and she hoped she would be able to continue working until all the children had been accounted for.
Maggie was the eldest of five. The others were all boys who wanted to play for English soccer teams. They had no interest in their studies and were utterly amazed that their big sister had got enough marks in exams to make people talk seriously about her going to university. They were even more amazed that their father was going to take them to the big posh hotel where nobody they knew had even been inside the door.
But he kept saying Maggie's marks would mean nothing unless there was a Serious Celebration.
"Will it be just the three of you - Mam, Dad and Maggie?" they wanted to know.
"A family celebration," he insisted.
"Will Grandma come?" they asked.
Grandma Kelly was inclined to take her teeth out in public. The money would not extend to Grandma, it was explained firmly. Grandpa Nolan said that he wouldn't cross the door of such a place on principle. He said this before anyone had invited him, without explaining what the exact principle was.
But that still meant seven people going to a preposterously expensive hotel.
"We can't do it - it's ludicrous, Mam," Maggie said. Her mother looked tired after a long day pushing a heavy, awkward cleaning trolley around the wards.
"Listen, child, we are so proud of you, and what has your father been in there slicing bacon for, year after year, if he can't take his family to a posh place when the eldest turns out to be a genius?" Maggie's mother's eyes were bright as they shone in her weary face.
So this stopped the discussion. There could be no more protesting.
Maggie went to her room.
She was eighteen. She knew that the celebration dinner would cost a fortune, maybe two weeks of her father's wages. He would have to borrow from the Credit Union at work. Maggie would have much preferred them to have had chicken and chips and for her father to have given her fifty pounds towards books for university.
But she listened to her mother. This Serious Celebration at the best restaurant in Dublin would give some meaning to a lot of lives. Not only her father's - her mother, too, would like to walk around the ward mentioning casually what "was on the menu at the dinner party last night.
Her two difficult grandparents would rejoice as much as if they had been there. Her four younger brothers would think it was a great adventure. And if they could perhaps be persuaded not to peel the potatoes with their nails ...
Mr. Nolan made the reservation.
"Did they need a deposit?" Maggie's mother wondered.
"Indeed they did not. They asked for a phone number and I gave them the bacon counter extension," he said proudly.
The boys became very annoyed about the amount of washing and scrubbing and clean shirts involved in it all. Maggie's mother said that she had told the matron where she was going and the matron had kindly lent her a stole. Maggie's father had told the general manager where he was going and the general manager had insisted that he would phone ahead and offer them a cocktail before dinner with his compliments.
And eventually the evening arrived.
Maggie had not thought a great deal about it because there was so much else to think of, like the fees for university and how to fit in her studies with all the hours that she would have to work earning the money. The night out in the posh restaurant, the Serious Celebration, was only one more crisis along the line. Since the Nolans didn't have a car they took two buses to get there. Mr. Nolan had the money in an envelope in his inside pocket. He patted it proudly half a dozen times on the journey. Maggie felt an urge to cry every time she saw this but she kept cheerful and said over and over that she couldn't believe they were all going to this restaurant. Her friends would be so envious, she said over and over. And she was rewarded by her mother hitching her borrowed stole higher, and her father saying that the general manager was altogether too good to arrange the cocktails.
They arrived at the door and the place seemed enormous and intimidating, nobody wanted to be the first up the steps.
They felt nervous and out of place once in the restaurant. Mr. Nolan wondered, should they have the cocktails in the lounge or at the table? Maggie, who thought that the boys might do less damage if corralled into just one destination, was in favour of the dining-room, but her mother thought that Mr. Nolan might like to see the lounge as well.
There was endless confusion when Mr. Nolan mentioned the general manager's name. There had been no message about cocktails. Apparently nobody had phoned ahead with any such order.