Anna
THE NERVES HAVE MY BONES rattling. I want to get down to the parish hall as quickly as we can, to scope it all out and know exactly what I’m getting myself into.
It’s as daunting as our first evening here, like going down to John Moore’s house all over again.
I reach into my handbag and stroke Betty’s headscarf, trying to settle myself.
Cold, pale grey air all around me, all in front of me.
The sort of foggy night that you might meet Jackie the Lantern in.
Before dropping her off at Minnie Keane’s, we take Peggy down the sea road to watch the big waves for a little while.
She twirls her hair for the whole walk, even when Jack holds one of her hands.
Isn’t it pretty, the sea? Unpredictable and dark, and so full of life.
The ground beneath us mosaicked by crushed mussel shells, blue and white.
As the sea churns out creamy foam, I think of England and what I have heard of their seasides; little carnivals.
‘’Twould put a thirst on you. Seafoam always puts me in mind of a pint.’
Jack says to nobody in particular. The ocean air is wetting us. My hair begins to feel greasy on my neck, behind my ears.
When we get down to Minnie Keane’s little terrace house, warm light fattens the windows.
Outside, four or five children are running around in the mist. Minnie Keane waves at us from the door, and I realise that she is a total stranger.
Something about Betty mentioning her name made me feel like I knew her.
Like it would be fine to trust her with Peggy.
Well, she is smiling, she seems fine. The other children seem happy, I’m sure Peggy will be grand.
She refuses a kiss when we leave, and I pretend not to be upset by it. I could do with a hug and kiss this evening.
We had to have three conversations with Jack before he agreed to let this woman look after Peggy. Tom called to her house yesterday to check her out and make sure it was all okay. I appreciate that this woman is a stranger, but she’s hardly a witch.
‘She’s not going to eat Peggy, is she?’
I try to make Jack laugh. But with his little Peigín, there is to be no joking.
We turn and leave her, and the mood shifts altogether.
How strange. No longer are we three siblings walking down to the parish hall.
Suddenly, we are three separate adults, heading in the same direction by coincidence.
Each with plans for the evening that don’t involve each other.
It scares me to think of what they might have in mind for themselves, and so I allow myself to be taken with thoughts of dancing with Betty.