Chapter Two #2
After the first cup of tea of the day – I know from experience there will be many more – Cormac and I are sent up to unpack. Tommy and Sheila’s house is a three-bed. I’m staying in Cormac’s room and Mum is in with my little cousin Fiona.
I definitely got the better deal. TV and PS5 opposite the bed. Small desk, with a handful of books and an impressive Lego castle set, complete with dragon, on the shelf above it. My admittedly very comfortable-looking inflatable bed is propped against the wall.
Cormac leaves me to put my clothes away and Fiona uses this as the opportunity to grill me.
Last time I saw her she was a shy five-year-old.
Now she’s nine and four foot nothing with ginger curly hair, but with the energy of a forty-year-old coffee-fuelled journalist trying to crack her next big story.
‘Why are you living here now?’
‘We’re house-hunting.’
‘You going to the same school as Cormac?’
‘Yes, for my A levels.’
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Why do you talk funny?’
‘My accent? That’s because I come from London. We’ve met before, you know.’
‘OK. Where’s Uncle Jack?’
‘He’s still in England.’ I think.
‘Are you poor now?’
‘FIONA!’ Sheila swoops in. ‘Go and help Aunty Aoife unpack.’
Fiona narrows her eyes, letting me know that this interrogation is far from over. She stomps into her room and starts directing Mum.
‘Right, now,’ says Sheila. ‘Do you have everything you need – jammies, toothbrush, deodorant? You’ll have to make up the bed later. Do you know how?’
‘Yep.’
‘Of course you do. Sorry, I have to remember you’re not a wean. Well, Cormac can give you anything else you need. Lunch will be ready in twenty minutes. Get yourself settled.’ She gives me a hug. ‘And welcome home, son. Glad to have you.’
I hug her back, her lily perfume unchanged from when I was a kid. ‘Thank you.’
She leaves the room and shouts at Fiona to stop telling Mum where to put her clothes.
I sit on Cormac’s bed. I need to get settled but I don’t want to, not really. I don’t want to live here, but I don’t want to go back to London either, because living in a house full of memories was becoming unbearable. I want everything to change and nothing to change.
Breathe.
Dad is gone, Mum is sad and I’m all she has. She moved us here because she wants to be near family and to give us some security. She’s got a job teaching at a university and she’s promised we’ll have our own place soon. She’s doing her best.
I check my phone. Unsurprisingly, there’s still nothing from Ben. Why did I put that kiss at the end of the message?
He’s already moved on. He wasn’t even into you anyway. You’re ugly, just an easy lay.
A knock on the door. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Sure.’
Mum steps inside and looks around. ‘How’re you doing?’
I shrug. ‘Fine.’
She sits and nudges me with her knee. An old move, which gets a smile. ‘Mad day, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s only for a while.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I do know how big a change this is for you, you know?’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ And I mean that. ‘Sorry I’ve been in a mood. It’s just—’
‘I get it.’ She squeezes my hand.
We sit for a minute, holding hands. There are a million things I want to say, but I can’t find the words. I don’t know how to speak to her in that way any more. My stomach is heavy as I slowly move my hand from hers.
Mum blinks. ‘Lunch?’
‘Yeah.’
Sheila makes the most incredible Irish stew. It’s a bit of a tradition for her to cook it when we first arrive and my mouth waters as the smell pulls me down the stairs. Lamb, carrots, potatoes and a thick warm gravy, served with Belfast baps and loads of butter.
It’s a fairly typical McCutcheon family lunch.
We talk about our journey over (though we leave out the fainting), Mum’s new job and how I’m feeling about my GCSE results (a constant low-level panic, but I say I’m fine).
Tommy has a new apprentice, ‘Absolutely useless.’ Sheila fills Mum in on which neighbours have died.
Cormac throws me endless smirks, like he used to when we were younger before he’d suggest a game that would get us into trouble.
And throughout it all, Fiona watches me with the focus of an assassin.
We’re nearly finished our mint Viennetta (classic dessert here) when Tommy asks Mum if we’d seen any trouble on the drive over. I set down my spoon and lean in.
Mum glances at me. ‘No, why? Is there still stuff happening? Thought they’d quietened down?’
Tommy grunts. ‘Some chance. Sure, they were rioting for days.’
‘For days?’ I say.
Sheila nods. ‘Aye, love. Bloody disgrace they are.’
Mum’s cheeks flush. ‘Sorry, been distracted with the move, but I saw it on the news.’
I frown as she didn’t mention anything to me. ‘What’s been happening?’
‘So-called protests about immigrants,’ says Tommy. ‘Just idiots looking for the chance to kick off.’
‘I heard that it was both sides taking part, wasn’t it?’ says Mum.
‘Like, Protestants and Catholics?’ I ask. My face burns as everyone turns to me. I don’t really know what I’m talking about.
Sheila tuts. ‘Aye, it really bonded the racists on both side of the community. Would break your heart. Those poor people, burned out of their houses, and…’ She looks at Fiona, whose eyes are wide.
‘Well, anyway. Don’t want to worry you. Just a load of eejits spoiling for a fight. Takes nothing to be nice, right, love?’
Fiona nods. ‘Yeah, you gotta be nice.’ She narrows her eyes at me and I frown.
What is up with this kid?
Tommy changes the subject to talk about the garden and how me and Cormac can help. I agree immediately and Cormac groans.
‘That was all gorgeous, thank you,’ I say. ‘Can I wash up?’
Sheila beams. ‘Well, now, I could get used to this. Hear that, Cormac?’
Cormac dead-eyes me. ‘Nice one, cuz. That’s me doomed.’ He smiles broadly at his mum and adopts an awful cockney accent. ‘M’lady, would you be so kind as to pass your plate so we may take it to the scullery?’ He offers a little bow.
Tommy shakes his head. ‘You’re away in the head.’
Cormac curtsies. ‘So sorry, m’lord. Please don’t lock me in the coal shed again. It’s ever so cold and the rats nip me bits.’
Fiona cackles and both mums laugh. Tommy doesn’t.
‘Right, let’s go, wench.’ Cormac taps my shoulder. ‘Got to show you how to scrub the pots and not catch scurvy!’
I can’t help grinning as we take the stuff to the kitchen. It smells of stew and tea and home. There are jars of pasta and rice on the wooden counters and a tin bread bin where I know the chocolate biscuits are kept.
The scent of lemon infuses the air as Cormac fills the sink and I scrape plates. ‘Feeling better?’ he asks.
I was hoping this wouldn’t come up again. ‘Oh, what, earlier? Yeah, was tired, I think.’
‘I was worried maybe you do actually have scurvy – though I’m not sure what the symptoms are.’
I snort. ‘Me neither.’
He starts washing the bowls and I grab a tea towel from the handle of the oven.
‘So, what’re you doing today?’
I take a bowl from him. ‘Nothing. You?’
‘Going to my mate Paul’s house. His parents are away for a few weeks so we’re having a barbecue and a cheeky wee…’ He mimes a drink. ‘Wanna come? It’s just round the corner, number 87.’
My shoulders tense as they always do when drinking is mentioned. ‘Maybe.’
‘Come on, they’re all sound. Can be, like, your big welcome to the estate.’ He looks over. ‘It’d be good to hang out, and I want you to meet someone. There’s this girl, Meg.’
My stomach takes an ice bath. I’ve been dreading this. Absolutely dreading this. ‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, she’s like you. Into books and art and stuff.’
That’s my thing, is it?
‘She’s kinda hot too.’
I focus on drying the bowl, removing every piece of moisture from its atoms. ‘Oh, right. I’m not really looking for anything right now.’
‘Okaaaay.’ He glances over and smirks. ‘Well, you know, I have some good-looking guy friends too.’
I twist the tea towel. ‘What?’
He shrugs. ‘Just saying. Like, if you’re into fellas it’s totally—’
‘I’m not!’
Cormac lets out a breath. ‘All right, all right, sorry.’
I swallow at the shame caught in my throat. ‘No, I’m sorry.’
‘So, I can introduce you to Meg then?’
Fuck off, Cormac.
‘Sure, whatever.’
‘Sweet.’
My mind is roaring. I’m sick of lying about this. ‘Actually, I’m pretty tired, to be honest. Should probably take it easy after what happened earlier.’
Cormac frowns for a moment then shrugs. ‘Fair enough.’
We wash the rest of the dishes in silence.