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Finn
To no one’s surprise but my own it appeared that my fears about Niamh detesting me for abandoning her, or Feargal simply hating me for my very existence, were ungrounded. There were no interrogations or accusations; instead we spent an amazingly easy hour or so just catching up and filling in the gaps, and for the first time I could actually talk about my new job and my new life with some kind of pride. Even Lilith seemed relaxed, helped enormously by the fact that Feargal was some huge breed of art nerd who hung onto every word she uttered about her work.
It couldn’t last forever though, and I finally plucked up the courage to ask the question I could no longer avoid. “So, how’s Mam doing?” I said as nonchelantly as I could manage.
Niamh gave a sad little shrug. “Ah, not so good, you know? Most of the time she’s asleep now, and even if she’s awake she doesn’t recognise you.”
“Which is a bloody big and welcome improvement from the ‘Hurling abuse from the minute you walk in the room’ stage, mind you. That was fun,” Feargal said, and my sister gave him an affectionate but solid thump on the thigh.
“Look, if you do decide to see her, just know that she’ll not be the woman you remember,” Niamh said.
“Well thank fuck for that,” I replied before I’d had time to think how that might sound. Niamh’s face fell.
“I’m sorry love.” I squeezed her hand. “But I can’t say I’ll miss all those times she called a failed abortion the very second she got pissed off.”
“She used to say that to you?” Feargal asked, clearly horrified.
“Oh God yeah, and worse,” I said. “Apparently when she found out she was pregnant with me she threw herself down the stairs. Repeatedly for an entire week, and never let me forget it. Nothin’ like feeling the love, eh?”
“Goodness, I find out something new every day, don’t I?” Lilith slid her arm around my waist and drew herself a little closer to me.
“You do know you don’t have to visit, don’t you, Tack?” Niamh said. “Not if it might… well…”
“Send me mad again?” I finished the sentence for her.
Niamh looked stricken. “No! Oh God Tack, I didn’t mean that! I just don’t want to put any pressure on you and -”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I can probably survive the one trip. When are you next there?”
“We’ll be heading up there on Thursday afternoon,” Feargal said. “It would have been tomorrow but my mum can’t – oof.” He broke off as Niamh elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow. That is, she can’t use her car at the moment – dodgy, er, carburettor thingy – so she’ll be borrowing ours. To do her, um, shopping.”
That gave me three days to prepare myself. I nodded. “Thursday would be… well, not good exactly, but we could do that, couldn’t we?” I turned to Lilith, who nodded in reply. For some reason she was now watching Niamh with an intensity usually reserved for a cat keeping an eye on an unsuspecting fieldmouse.
Niamh nodded. “Sure. As long as you still feel up to it on the day.”
“And will Sinéad be joining us?” I asked.
Niamh shook her head. “Probably not. She’s not too keen on visiting Mam anymore.”
“Not too keen on anything unless it involves a bass guitar and that sodding band, or Liam bloody Hanlon,” Feargal said.
“That’s the boyfriend; they’re in the band together,” Niamh explained. Call themselves ‘Angels of Annihilation’. Christian heavy metal, of all things. She’s an excellent musician and completely wasted on them, but apparently they’re ‘the only people that get her’.”
“Is that an actual thing?” Lilith asked. “Christian heavy metal?”
Niamh nodded. “Apparently so. Let’s just say she’s going through a bit of a ‘stroppy teenager’ thing at the moment.”
Feargal grunted with laughter. “Which is kinda like saying Stalin had a bit of a bossy streak.”
“Ah c’mon now, Fearg,” Niamh said. “She’s been through a rough time of it.”
“Yeah, and so have you and your brother here, sweetheart.” For the first time there was a hard expression on the big fella’s face. “And I don’t reckon either of you have Yvonne the Anger Management Counsellor telling you it’s okay to behave like a little shit because of your bloody ‘issues’, either.”
My heart suddenly sank. “Did I cause that? I mean, the counselling thing?” I asked. “By going?”
“God no, Tack.” Niamh grabbed my hand again. “And don’t you dare think like that. She’s always been the wild one – I mean, look at who her Da was. I don’t think he’s been out of prison since the day he got Mam pregnant.”
“A fella called Biter Bob Magee,” I explained to Lili. “So called for his delightful habit of sinkin’ his teeth into the earlobes of anyone who disagreed with him.”
