We told Tina about our walk to the top of the hill, and about meeting the rock chick and her son.
Tina gave a little laugh, ‘Sheila, innit.’
Jo and I glanced at each other.
‘Did you say Sheila?’
I turned to Jo, ‘Sheila is an Irish name.’
‘Irish Italian maybe.’ Said Jo.
‘Do you know her?’ I asked Tina.
Tina was looking around for a waiter. A ferry had emptied its load and the restaurant was filling up rapidly. ‘Sure, everybody know everybody. She works for my sister-in-law’
Another waiter came over. He bent down and kissed Tina on the cheek,huggiing her like a doll and whispering in Italian for ages. It was o t t, and I wondered why the theatrics. He stood finally and asked loudly in English. ‘So, bella, what would you like to drink?’
She ordered a vodka on the rocks, pretty string for the middle of the afternoon I thought.
The waiter then turned to Jo and I. ‘And for you two ladies?’
I sensed his mild antagonism, but couldnt work out why.
Jo – being the ice freak – requsted for a jug of beer with ice, i didnt really want lumps of ice watering down the beer, but I guess in the searing heat we needed all the help we could get.
Over by the jetty, another boat sounded its horn. We looked up and saw another bunch of tourists clambering aboard, like cattle. I put my shades back on.
We had all fallen into silence. The heat was relentless. Jo was soaking up the rays with her eyes closed and her sun hat drawn down over her forehead. Tina was checking for messages on her blackberry. I felt mildly hypnotised by the speed of the nimble digits fluttering over the keys. The girl seemed very intense, almost frantic, and none of what she said made any sense whatsoever.
- Celebrating Your Irish Heritage at an Irish Pub in Pittsburgh (local.answers.com)