Epilogue
A notification pings. Someone has left a comment on the blog. I scan the title and opening paragraph again, hoping there are no typos.
THE SONG OF brIGID KENNY
The photo looks good. The scanner Tommy and Sheila got me for my birthday is brilliant.
I scroll down to the comments.
Ben Taylor: This is amazing mate! Nice work
I like it, and before I can overthink it I type:
Thank you mate
Because why not? Maybe I need more mates.
There’s a rap at the door. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Sure.’
Mum casts an eye over the wall and the photos I’ve framed. Her gaze settles on the box I have yet to unpack but she says nothing. We’ve been in the new place for a month, renting until Mum finds something she wants to buy. I suspect she’s waiting on Dad to get better so they can look together.
She squeezes my hand.
‘Can I read it?’
I place my other hand on hers. ‘Yeah, though don’t tell me if you hate it.’
She snorts. ‘Hardly.’ She leans over my shoulder and her breath catches as she reads. ‘Oh, Brigid.’ She sighs. ‘I’m sorry I never told you about her. Your nan and dad didn’t want to…’
‘I know.’
‘She was like a big sister to me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks, love. It’s a brilliant piece of writing. They’ll love it.’ She clears her throat. ‘Are you ready?’
I let out a deep breath. ‘Yeah, let’s go.’ I reach for the pinhole camera and we head for the car.
‘Shit,’ I whisper as we pull onto the street.
‘Is it a vision?’ asks Mum. She took the revelation pretty well. Dad had told her he’d seen things when they were teenagers. When they moved away he told her he’d been joking, that he’d been unwell. But she never forgot.
I’ve kept my promise to her – no more secrets.
Well, besides one. Paul is waiting outside Nanny Bet’s house. I scratch at the heat on my neck. We’ve not spoken for a few weeks.
‘Did you invite Cormac’s friend?’ says Mum.
‘No, I don’t know why he’s here.’
I’m fidgeting with my cuff and Mum places hers gently on top. ‘Then go find out.’
I take a deep breath and climb out of the car. Paul nods at Mum as she walks past. He’s wearing a blue collared shirt and he looks cute, which is really annoying.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘How’s it going?’
He flashes a smile. ‘Not bad, you?’
I gesture towards the house. ‘OK. It’s been a bit weird since—’
‘Look, I’m sorry.’ He takes a step towards me.
I frown. ‘What for?’
His eyes are on his feet. ‘For messing things up. Not giving you what you wanted.’
I sigh. ‘Well, was it what you wanted?’
‘What?’
‘Did you want to be with me?’
‘I don’t know.’
My heart drops. ‘Well, you couldn’t give me what I wanted, then, could you?’
‘I was an asshole for meeting up with Ellen though.’
I resist the urge to make him feel better. ‘Yeah, you were a bit. Are you back with her?’
Paul shakes his head. ‘No, that didn’t feel right either. Nothing feels right at the minute. Anyway, I wanted to say sorry.’
He walks away.
‘I get it though.’
He turns back. ‘Yeah?’
‘Of course. These things take time. Working out who you are, what you are. It’s not easy.’
Paul bites his lip. ‘Can you forgive me?’
I step towards him. ‘I do. I forgive you.’ He hits me with that grin that has taken my heart and broken my self-will so many times. I take another breath to steady myself. ‘But I can’t see you any more. Not like that.’
Paul blinks. ‘But I like you.’
‘I like you too, Paul. I really stupidly like you. I think you’re hot and funny and incredibly kind.’ He’s blushing. ‘And I know you’re into me or whatever, but you aren’t ready for a relationship. And I think you still like Ellen too?’
He nods. ‘I think so.’
I shrug. ‘Well, I think she likes you too. And all three of us deserve a bit better than this mess, right?’ He nods again. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve been there. It’s crap.’
‘I just wish we could still, you know…’
I rub my forehead. ‘Me too. Believe me! But I can’t be your secret any more.’
He rubs the back of his head. ‘I wish I could offer more, but I can’t.’
‘I understand, but if you’re ever ready, you can ask me on a date. Deal?’
A soft grin. ‘Deal.’
‘I’d better get in. See you around.’
Without looking back, I leave Paul and head into Nanny Bet’s.
Mum and Dad share a slightly awkward hug in the garden. He grips his walking stick and kisses her on the forehead. It’s more affection than they’ve shown each other in the last few years, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. Mum needs space, and he’s still recovering.
She goes into the kitchen to help Nanny Bet and I give Dad a hug. It’s less awkward, but I’m still hesitant. His hand trembles slightly as he moves it away.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ he says.
‘Yeah. You feeling up to it?’
‘Yes, but no, but sure, you know yourself.’ He smiles and winks, and for a second my old dad is back.
We’ve talked most days since he woke up. It’s not a complete recovery though. He had a minor stroke the night that everything went down on Acre Street. He’s on medication and goes to physio, and he’s doing AA meetings too.
He’s staying here with Nanny Bet for now. He’s trying. We all are.
‘Did you write something?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, would you like to read it?’
He pales. ‘Not yet. But I’m proud of you. I just…’
‘I know.’
He takes a seat in one of the chairs facing out over the city.
‘It’ll take some time,’ says Nanny Bet. She’s tired, but her eyes are bright.
Her cuts have healed but there are two thin talon-shaped scars on either side of her head.
She doesn’t remember what caused them. She woke on the kitchen floor, and I’m not telling her any more than that. She doesn’t want to know.
I give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Are you OK?’
She shrugs. ‘Mostly. Oh, I found that box in the attic for you, by the way. Stuff from the family archive, so to speak.’ She sips on her coffee. ‘Wood carvings, paintings, stories, there’s even a pretty gory piece of needlework. It’s all yours now.’
‘Thank you.’
A crow calls from a nearby tree and we both look up. Dad does too. Three sit on the branches.
Nanny Bet nods at them.
I lean in and whisper. ‘Do you miss your power?’
She grins. ‘Not for a single fucking second!’
I laugh as she sets down her coffee.
The rest of the family arrive then. Nanny Bet gives Tommy a big hug that makes him smile nervously.
‘All right, cuz. How’s life in the mansion?’ Cormac is wearing a shirt and tie and I’m careful not to wrinkle it as I pull him in for a hug.
‘Terrible staff, but you know how it is. All right, Fiona?’
She raises her hand and I swoop in for a high five. She rolls her eyes, but also giggles so I take that as a win. She runs off to scoop up a struggling Fergal.
‘Looking forward to school?’ Cormac asks.
‘Yeah, weirdly.’
He laughs. ‘Me too. Can’t believe my da let me switch back to doing drama. The arty cousins, that’s what they’ll call us.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Read the blog by the way.’
‘Yeah?’
Cormac nods. ‘It was class. Mummy cried, which is really what it’s all about.’
Sheila plants a kiss on my cheek that I know will leave the biggest lipstick mark known to mankind. ‘Ah, Michael, love, it was gorgeous.’
Nanny Bet taps her spoon against her coffee cup. ‘I think we’ll get started.’
The family lift their teas and settle in the collection of garden chairs we’ve borrowed from various neighbours.
‘Right then,’ Nanny Bet says, ‘I want to… We, Jack and I, want to thank you for coming today.’ She reaches down and pats Dad’s hand. ‘We’re here to talk about two of the most important people in our lives: Frank and Brigid Kenny.’
Here we go.
The memorial is short. Nanny Bet talks about her husband and daughter.
How they died and how much she loves them.
She reads a newly written poem and it’s beautiful.
Mum speaks about how cool Brigid was. Sheila feigns shock when Tommy says he had a crush on her and his voice cracks as he praises Granda Frank’s football skills.
Dad says he loves and misses them every day.
And that’s it.
Well, that’s nearly it. As Sheila starts asking for tea requests, I find myself on my feet. ‘Excuse me, can I say something?’
They turn and I know my face is beetroot. My brain is trying to constrict my throat to stop me from speaking. But I have to say it, because if my family can tell the truth then—
‘What is it?’ says Dad.
Just say it.
‘I’m gay.’
His mouth falls open and my brain gets ready for full panic mode until it settles into a smile.
I sneak a look at the rest of them.
‘About time,’ says Fiona, and runs up to give me a hug.
Mum kisses me on the cheek. ‘I love you very much, Michael. I’m so proud of you.’
I don’t care that I’m crying. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’
She nods.
‘Well, thanks for letting me—’
‘You’re welcome.’ She kisses me again and then Dad is hugging me. They all are. Sheila says I’m still going to break hearts and Tommy gives me an awkward thumbs up, and you know what, I’ll take it.
‘I’m going to get you so laid,’ says Cormac.
‘Cormac!’ shout Mum, Tommy and Sheila together.
I give him a hug and whisper, ‘I’m doing pretty well, actually.’
He barks a laugh.
Nanny Bet puts an arm around me. ‘I told you when you got here that you were special, but I had no idea how much. You’re the best of us, my love.’ She touches my cheek then moves to rescue Fergal from Fiona.
We eat sandwiches and talk and laugh and cry; happy tears though. Dad slips away early to rest, but he and Mum have a good hug before he goes. Everyone tells stories and Tommy sings a few lines of a song that makes the adults fall silent.
A chill settles as the sun sets. Everyone moves inside, but there’s a twinge at the back of my head and I take a seat on one of the garden chairs.
‘How did it go?’ Meg is wearing a black pinafore dress and her new acorn necklace twinkles in the moonlight. Her hand is still in a cast.
‘It was nice.’
‘May I?’
‘Sure.’
She sits beside me and we watch twilight fall over the city.
‘How’s the new house?’
‘Quiet. I love it.’
‘And the darkroom?’
I turn on the chair. ‘It’s great. I’ve got a full chemical bath in there now.’
‘No way!’
‘Upgrade from vitamin-C tablets.’
She plays with the necklace. Inside, orders are being taken for food. ‘I should get in there, before…’
‘Before they see I’m here.’
I sigh. ‘You could come in. They don’t blame you for what happened. You know that, right? Nanny Bet feels like it’s her fault too.’
‘I’m not ready,’ she says.
‘OK, sorry.’
‘You apologise way too much.’
‘OK, Queen of the Dicks.’
She laughs. ‘At least say it in Irish.’
‘I’m trying, but Duolingo hasn’t covered dicks yet.’
‘She’s such a prude.’
I pull her into a hug. ‘It’s going to be OK, you know.’
She squeezes me tight. ‘I know, thank you.’
I look back towards the kitchen. ‘Been working on anything cool?’
She beams. ‘I’m doing a painting of the Belfast Suffragettes. Last Sunday I saw the thirteen that were arrested in 1914.’
‘No way!’
She nods. ‘What about you?’
‘Not much since the blog, but I have a few ideas. I want to tell the stories of the different people who arrived in Ireland by boat, from the Tuatha Dé Danaan to those escaping war zones today.’ I smile.
‘And the queers, of course. I want to check out the historic gay scene here, go to where the old bars were. Tell those invisible stories, you know?’
‘I love it. So I guess they really are letting us see more than death,’ says Meg.
‘Looks like it. We’re now more general bards than death poets.’
She laughs and heads towards the side of the house.
‘See ya. Tell your nan I said hello, yeah?’
‘Absolutely.’
She leaves the garden and there’s the beating of wings as a crow follows her.
I look out over the city, taking in my new home, knowing that among those twinkling lights are thousands of untold stories rising from the earth.
Stories I get to tell.