Chapter Nine
‘Why would Dad hide his powers from my nan?’
Meg shrugs. ‘Who else would it be?’
I want to argue, but it does kind of make sense.
‘Maybe he just didn’t want to worry her,’ I say.
‘Maybe, yeah.’
There’s a weight in my stomach. Poor Nan. I know they had a difficult relationship. Was this the cause of it? He kept a huge secret from his mum.
I push away the thought of the secrets I keep from mine.
‘You OK?’ asks Meg.
‘I feel bad for her. She didn’t really have anyone else after my granda died, Dad ran off as soon as he could and he hid this whole side of himself.’
Meg looks like she’s trying to find the right words to say. ‘I guess. But maybe there’s a reason he didn’t want to tell her. Was he scared of her?’
‘What? No!’ I snap and her eyes widen. ‘Sorry, it’s just… Yeah, Nan’s really direct, but she cares about him. My dad has a lot of problems.’ I pause. ‘He’s not easy to love.’
We sit on the floor in silence. My throat is thick with the old shame of having a dad who never showed up.
Not being able to invite friends over in case he was having a bad day, or week, or month.
As I got older my attitude shifted. I hoped that Dad would wake up and be happy and sober.
That the darkness that was on him for years would vanish.
Now I only wish he’d text me back.
A door closes downstairs. ‘We should go.’
Meg nods. ‘What shall we do about these?’ She gestures to the cameras.
‘Take that black Canon one. We’ll say we’re using that.’ I lift the pinhole camera. ‘I’ll hide this.’
Meg points a finger at the photograph on the floor. ‘And that?’
The image of the woman flashes in my mind. Her arms raised as she rejoices in the destruction around her.
I shiver, but I can’t leave it behind. Dad kept it for a reason. Without turning it over I slip it inside the notebook Meg got me and put it in my bag with the pinhole camera.
‘Everything OK, Michael?’ Nanny Bet shouts up.
I zip my bag.
‘Michael?’ she calls again.
‘Coming!’
Meg slides the plastic box under the bed while I push the drawer back in place, and then we head downstairs.
Nanny Bet stands in the hallway with her arms folded. ‘Well?’
I gesture back at Meg, who’s holding the Canon. ‘Yeah, got one, thanks.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Kenny,’ echoes Meg.
Nan places a hand on my wrist. ‘What were you doing up there?’
‘Nothing. We just tried out the cameras. There was a few.’
She looks from me to Meg, eyes narrowed. ‘I thought I heard a thump. Did you break something or—’
Does she think Meg and I…
‘I dropped the box,’ says Meg, her voice steady. ‘Sorry.’
Nanny Bet blushes. ‘That’s OK. Let’s have another cup of tea and talk about this project. It’s been ages since—’
‘No,’ I say sharply.
Hurt flashes across her face.
I picture Dad looking back at the door. He couldn’t tell her and neither can I.
‘Sorry, we need to go.’
She goes to say something, but then sighs and nods.
‘Love you.’ I kiss her on the cheek.
Fergal meows from the front step and Meg bends down to give him a nose boop. ‘Bye, Mrs Kenny.’
I can sense Nanny Bet’s eyes on the back of my head as we step outside.
We’ve barely walked past two houses when the back of my neck prickles with hot pins and needles. I whirl round.
‘It’s happening again.’
Meg’s mouth falls open. ‘What? Where?’
The light is falling over Nanny Bet’s house, along with the front garden and footpath. I point.
‘Try the pinhole camera,’ Meg says.
My hands are shaking as I swing my backpack over my shoulder and unzip it. My fingers tingle as they rest on the wood. ‘Wait. What if my nan sees?’
‘I’ll distract her,’ says Meg.
‘How?’ I ask, but she’s already gone. Running through the light and knocking on the front door.
A glow falls over everything as the past superimposes itself over the present. The familiar smell of earth and metal reaches me. Blood, I realise with a sickening thud.
But everything else appears to be the same. The house, the flowers in the garden. Identical.
Meg looks back at me. I still haven’t taken out the pinhole camera. I can’t risk Nanny Bet seeing it.
A green car materialises in front of the neighbours’ house.
Nan’s door opens and Meg steps inside.
I remove the camera and step out onto the road so I have a clear view.
I hold it up to my face, with the top just below my eyes, and point it at the house.
I can’t see how anything’s changed other than the car, although in the vision the gate is closed.
This is like one of those spot-the-difference puzzles. What am I meant to see?
A crow lands on the wall in front of me. I can’t tell if it’s really there or part of the vision.
The light starts to fade. I have a final look around, but apart from a hedge in a neighbour’s garden having been cut, I still can’t see anything different.
As the vision slips away, Meg opens the front door and gestures behind her. I pack away the camera as Nanny Bet appears at the door. She’s frowning, but when she spots me her eyes soften. She blows me a kiss.
Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I force myself to smile and wave.
I start walking and Meg catches up with me. ‘Well?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Huh?’
‘It was like I was getting a vision of the present. There was a car parked there and the neighbour’s hedge was different but everything else was pretty much exactly the same.’
‘Maybe that means it was something recent. Like, not that long ago. That could be important,’ she says.
‘I guess.’
‘And at least you got to practise. How did it feel?’
I recall the smoothness of the wood as I pointed the pinhole camera at the house. The vibration of my pulse as I held it steady. The feeling of rightness. Like everything else had fallen away and I was able to focus on what was happening in front of me.
‘It felt like magic.’
Meg smiles and a warmth spreads through me. ’Well,’ she says, ‘how are you going to use your powers? For good or evil?’
I snicker.
‘I’m serious. This is your origin story. Are you going to be a superhero or a twisted villain? Please say villain. They’re much more interesting.’
‘Yeah, sure. I just need a camp accent and a secret lair.’
Meg waves her hand in the air. ‘Details, details.’
But she’s got a point. How am I going to use them? First of all, I need to process what’s going on. Objectively, this is a lot to go through in two days. The adrenaline is fading now and my legs are heavy.
After that, though, I know exactly what I need to do.
‘I’m going to find my dad.’
After a few minutes of internet research, Meg gives me a list of things we’ll need to order for the camera, starting with photographic paper and a red bulb for a dark room.
She assures me we can use her bedroom. As we can’t afford the chemicals needed for developing pics, we find a YouTube video that says we can do it with mint tea, lemon juice, vitamin C tablets, salt and baking soda.
I’m not convinced, but Meg seems confident, and before I go I promise I’ll get everything ordered tonight.
The kitchen is filled with the smell of bubbling bolognese and the red wine Mum and Sheila are drinking as they cook. They want to chat, but I need to find somewhere to hide the camera.
I walk through the living room, where a giant book of Irish myths and legends is propped on the sofa with two legs poking out like the ill-fated Witch of the East. The book is lowered and Fiona narrows her eyes at me. I say hello but she carries on staring. Sweat prickles behind my ears.
Why am I so scared of this child?
I feel like I’m smuggling a great secret into the house. It’s Dad’s camera and I have to keep it safe for him. He was so upset in the vision – and scared. I hate that he had to carry that burden by himself. When, or if, he comes back, he won’t have to go through it alone any more. I can help him.
I pause halfway up the stairs. My hand quivers as I take out my phone and text him.
I know about the visions. I have
your camera. Call me. Please.
I allow myself a moment to hope for a reply. When nothing appears I thump the banister and carry on up to Cormac’s room. I need to stash the camera in my suitcase before he—
‘All right, cuz?’
My mouth dries out and I blink. Cormac is sitting on the floor against his bed with a game controller in his hand and sprawled beside him is Paul. In shorts. Paul is in shorts. Paul is in the room I sleep in and he is wearing shorts.
Shorts.
He grins. ‘Bout ye?’
I nod. ‘Yep, yep. All good. You?’
‘Aye, knackered. We had a kickabout after town.’
‘Oh yes. That explains the shorts.’
What in the name of fuck are you doing?
He laughs. ‘Aye, that’s why I’m wearing shorts.’
‘I knew it.’
Oh, well done. Case closed, Detective Dickhead.
Cormac laughs. ‘What’s up?’
I set my bag at the end of the bed. ‘Long day.’
‘Hard day working in the big city, making deals, breaking hearts. I get it,’ says Cormac.
‘Something like that.’ I stand at the end of the bed and pick at my thumbnail. ‘Sorry for interrupting your game. I can go back downstairs and—’
‘Wise up, sit down,’ says Paul, shifting towards Cormac.
I settle beside Paul and stare ahead at the screen, and not at him or his legs. Cormac leans across and something cold and wet hits my elbow. ‘Can?’
It’s a Coke. ‘Thanks.’
Cormac holds the controller in front of him. ‘Ready to get whupped?’
Paul copies him. ‘Aye, sure. I beat you in real life, but you can have a crack here.’
Ah, banter.
They start playing. It’s a football game and I haven’t played one for years, probably not since I was a kid visiting Cormac.
The graphics have improved but my interest has not.
Sometimes it annoys me that I don’t like football, but something about competitive sports makes me shrink a bit.
It would be nice to enjoy it. It would be nice to not have this very obvious, almost clichéd, difference between myself and Cormac.
And Paul.
‘Yeoooooo!’
Paul has, I presume, scored.
‘Total fluke!’ shouts Cormac.
‘Did you see that?’ Paul looks my way with that grin. The green of the pitch plays on his face, making his cheekbones sharper, the dimples more dramatic. ‘Yeah.’ I grin back. ‘Great goal.’
He nudges me then turns back to the game. His skin is warm and my arms tingle.
The action replay is finishing and they’re getting ready to start.
My phone buzzes.
Dad!
It’s Meg.
Have you bought anything yet? I’ve done some
research and found the right paper. Can you
measure the box to know what size. 7x5?
‘Is that Meg?’ asks Cormac. I can hear his smirk.
‘Uh-huh.’
Paul glances at me and I put my phone down.
‘You want to tell her to come over?’ says Cormac. ‘We can make ourselves scarce.’
Heat sweeps over me as Paul’s eyes find mine. ‘You into Meg?’
I swallow. ‘What? No, we’re just friends.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ says Cormac. ‘You couldn’t wait to slip off today. Off to the art shop. I know what that means.’
I’m going to kill him.
‘Yeah, it means we were buying art stuff!’ I snap. Silence. The little football players carry on running around the pitch and the clicks of the buttons fill the awkward chasm.
‘No worries, cuz. Was only teasing. Meg’s sound.’
Paul sits up and crosses his legs. ‘Isn’t she into girls anyway?’
Shit.
Cormac pauses the game. ‘Seriously?’
‘That’s what I heard. She had a girlfriend last year, I think.’
Cormac whistles. ‘No way!’
I’m sweating. ‘Yeah, she’s queer, well, bi-queer. So…’
‘So, you are in with a chance. Making some art together. Nice.’
I could say yes. I could say that I fancy Meg and then he’d shut up. I could also tell him the truth, but I don’t want Tommy and Sheila to have to replace the wall after I’ve jumped through it.
So I say nothing, as usual.
Paul shoves Cormac. ‘Would you give over? He said he’s not interested. Stop being a melt.’
Cormac falls to the ground dramatically. ‘All right, all right. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to celebrate the power of love in these dark times. So Operation Meg is a no go, but we’ll get you set up with someone. Right, Paul?’
Paul smirks at me. ‘Sure, we can do that.’
My phone buzzes, but I’m too busy trying to stop my heart from exploding out of my chest. Meg can wait, the camera can wait, getting my head around the possibility that me and my dad have the ability to see through time can wait.
For now, I’m going to sit with my cousin and his hot friend and pretend everything is normal.
It buzzes again.
‘Popular,’ says Paul without taking his eyes off the screen as they set up another game. ‘You wanna have a go with me?’
Excuse me?
‘I…’
‘Football isn’t really Michael’s thing.’
‘Ah.’ Paul nods his head.
Screw you, Cormac. I mean it’s true, but screw you!
‘Yeah, I’m pretty bad. On screen and beyond.’
He laughs. ‘What’re you into?’
Don’t say ‘you’. Don’t say ‘you’.
‘I like RPGs.’
‘Ah, nice. You got anything like that, Cormac?’
Cormac rolls his eyes. ‘What, so that we can sit and watch Michael run around as an elf collecting haunted gemstones to make the fuckin’…amulet of evening sadness?’
‘I’ve actually already finished that game.’
Cormac barks a laugh and Paul joins in. ‘You’re funny.’
‘I try.’ I know I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care. I’m so caught up in the exchange that I wink.
I wink at Paul.
Well, I try to. The frown on Paul’s face makes me think that I didn’t quite stick the landing.
Kill me.
I grab my phone. I’m about to tell Meg that I can’t measure the camera right now, but the most recent message isn’t from her. It’s from Ben.
Hows u?
My heart (or something more carnal) flutters, but then I remember he hasn’t responded to the last message I sent him.
It’s the usual story. Ben ignores me, not wanting to actually acknowledge me until he wants something.
I know how these messages start. ‘Hows u?’ leads to a series of mundane messages until he eventually gets up to nerve to say he’s horny and then…
Well, no. Not right now. He can be ignored for once. I set down the phone with a bit too much force.
Cormac scratches his head. ‘Who was that?’
My neck is hot. ‘Someone from back home…’
Paul raises an eyebrow. ‘An ex?’
Fuck it.
‘Yeah… They’re being annoying.’
Cormac leans over and pats me on the leg. ‘Ah, mate, forget about her. Sounds like a nightmare.’
The corner of Paul’s mouth raises. ‘Yeah, they do.’ My stomach tries to escape through my belly button. ‘You good?’
I’m very conscious of my breathing. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Play the game. Maybe I can learn something.’
Paul sits back and hits start. As he gets himself in position, his knee touches my thigh. Neither of us moves.
‘Right, Cormac. Ready to get trashed?’
They play their game and I sit facing the screen, every bit of my attention focused on the straight guy’s knee on my thigh. Telling myself that it’s perfectly normal behaviour. Pretending I don’t know about his girlfriend.
It’s fine. I haven’t done anything wrong.
Yet.