Tom
‘ARE YE SURE IT’S ALRIGHT to leave her with Minnie Keane? We hardly know the woman.’
Jack asks, fighting Anna for room in the mirror. I comb my fingers through Peggy’s hair, because Anna is too busy putting on lipstick to come and do this herself. Peggy wriggles around, trying to pull her head away from my hands. As though I’m running knives across her scalp.
‘Yeah, Betty said it’s fine.’
Anna says, impatience rising in her voice as Jack stands in her way. It’s strange to see what she looks like with makeup on, it’s been so long. Strange, too, to see Jack with a bottle of hair oil, preening himself.
‘Presumptuous, considering Betty has no children of her own.’
Jack mumbles, as though Anna wouldn’t hear him.
Of course, Anna hears everything. Even things that we only half think of, she hears.
The way that she’s looking at him could turn him to stone.
Weighted air passes through the room. For days now I have felt a storm impending. I wait for somebody to snap.
But with a cool breath, it all passes, and Anna takes Peggy off me. Positioning her in front of the mirror, she pulls Peggy’s hair into two tight plaits. She is more settled with Anna than she was with me. I don’t let myself take offence to this.
‘Why can’t I go to the dance?’
She asks Anna. I decide it isn’t my problem. Being left alone is the sort of thing she usually has tantrums over. But she’s more than happy to be alone with Betty Nevan, so I’m sure she will get on fine with Mrs Keane. I’ve met her on the road once or twice. She seems lucid enough.
‘Dances are only for adults. You can go when you’re grown up.’
Anna roots through her handbag while speaking, not giving her full attention to Peggy.
My God, I was mortified carrying that thing home for her on Monday evening. Betty insisted I took it with me. I don’t know why Anna couldn’t have just called down for it herself. Even though it was stuffed inside my coat, I was frantic with the idea that somebody would catch me carrying a handbag.
Tying my tie, I watch from the corner of my eye as Anna puts her chin on Peggy’s head. Trying to seem sisterly, perhaps. Looking at their reflection, as though something is missing.
‘We’re more alike every day.’
Anna says. And I hope, for Peggy’s sake, that isn’t true.