1
Mel sat down at the kitchen table and sighed and rubbed her face.
I went over to the side and lifted the kettle off its stand. I sloshed the little bit of water around in the bottom and thought: thatās just how I feel, like thereās nothing left inside me, just this little slosh in my guts and the rest of me is empty.
But that wasnāt so true. My breasts ached ā they still do. They feel enormous and Iāve got a cramp in my gut and I need to piss all the frigging time, and at four oāclock every day, I puke. They said it was completely normal. To be expected. The skin around my nipples is going so dark, purple almost, and there are these flecks of blood that keep appearing in my knickers. The baby burrowing itself into me.
Donāt worry, they said. Your bodyās changing.
I went over to the sink and took the lid off the kettle. I ran water inside and I was talking over the sound it made. For some reason, Iām telling Mel about wishing I had photos of her, of me as a bairn. I carried the heavy kettle back over to the side and clunked it down on its stand.
ā Photos of me crawling, having my nappy changed, first tooth, missing teeth, on the beach in summer, you know. Me and Mikey. My big brother looking after me, looking out for me.
I closed my eyes and imagined the photos in my hand, me looking at them, and Iām wondering would I know her, that girl?
I flicked the switch and turned to look at Mel.
ā I wanted him to look at me. To love me and not her. Love just me.
She closed her eyes.
ā We were in love and Mam knew it. Sheās lying on the settee and sheās pretending not to hear. Watching the telly, pretending to be asleep. Heās touching me and Iām laughing. Heās touching me and I love it.
Mel said fuck under her breath. Her hair curtained her face.
ā And Iāve always wondered, what Iādāve been like if I wasnāt her kid. If sheād wanted me. If she hadnāt thrown me down the stairs and I never had my fits. If fucking if.
ā You were abused, Lil. By both of them.
She got up and went into the corridor. I heard the toilet door go and I saw a quick flash of Dave, cowered and handcuffed in the back of the police van. I shouted in my head: MAKE HIM INVISIBLE.
I leaned back against the side and my hand went to my stomach, fingers stroking. It felt tight. I wasnāt imagining it. Sometimes it burns inside and the burn is so heavy itās like hot metal. Daveās gone and Iām on my own again. But of course rubbing myself like that, I knew I wasnāt.
He was still inside me. Heās still inside.
The kettle hissed to the boil, rattling and popping on its stand. She came back in and gave me the smallest of smiles. She looked at my hand on my stomach and I pulled it away. The kettle clicked and steamed. I wanted to put my hand on it, to feel the scald, to feel something that isnāt this fucking numbness inside. I asked her to get the laptop running
and hereās the breath
hereās the breeze
hereās the shimmer
I grabbed onto the side, fingernails scratch-scratching the wood.
ā Sorry?
She looked at me and we smiled and the bolt, it snapped my hand away like fire and the planet tilted, burnt wind blowing around inside me, skin suck-sucking the dust in and her face was a blank, trying to see what made my hand just do that, leaning over. I turned around, reached into the cupboard and pulled two cups out. I clanked them on the side heavy-as and she goes,
ā You mean?
The crackles, the coughing, saying theyāre here again. Shadows moving all around me, breathing static breath, smell them in the buzzing as they sliiiiiide their long fingers in, tickling the switch and the colours, the sweet colours are here, wrapping their arms around me like they love me.
The steam puffed and curled under the units. She was quiet behind me.
ā I want to book a flight.
I turned and saw her mouth curl to one side. Thoughts dropping like Tetris blocks in her head, and it was coming on strong now, such strong motion.
The room cracked and shattered, the colours wrapping their arms around me but I couldnāt hold them back, it was like rain running down windows, the air melting in front of me, colours like feelings inside, suffocating but nice
like storm clouds up there
like bullies, black lightning off and on in their fat bellies and I need to pull at everything, need to touch and tug and twist and poke and push because it was all slipping away from me
and I knew
ā Mel?
I knew she was there in the room, but I couldnāt let go of the chair, my fingers crack-cracking the corners and I
canāt catch my
canāt catch my
ā Mel?
ā Iām here, Iām here.
ā Help me.
I climbed down onto the floor. Reaching down, the wood cold on my palms and knees. Onto my side and over, flat onto my back. I could breathe again. I could breeeeeeeeee
ā Mel?
Shush-shushing me, stroking my hair, her face above me, the bright light up there on the ceiling like a
ā Youāre an angel.
like a halo above her head, and I could hear me, smacking my lips like mwa mwa, pulling my face, my fingers dancing on my cheeks, noise revving up out of me like a banshee and the shadows ā I wonāt let them knock me off my feet any more, I WONāT.
ā Mel, hold me.
The burnt wind blowing around inside, it crackled and coughed and
ā Mel.
I thought it was the baby coughing and I couldnāt look Mel in the eye because her face was dripping down, purple and reds and yellows and my hands, my hands clasped over my stomach to protect to protect it inside
ā HOLD MEEEEEEEEEE
because this is me falling through life, and I have to learn how to fall now, learn all over again to protect, to protect it inside
weāre turning electric
zap-zapping it in its juices, Melās arms closing around me and the lushness, the weakness, clouds ripping open my eyes, white smoke blowing, turn off my eyes, fading dim, yes turning
and it looks like
and smells like
and feels like
not the squealing the aaaaaaaaaa slow soft aaaaaaaaaa feel the sag, yes the dip, the lull, the nodges of my scars turning soft, glowing with light, the smoke clearing, eyes fading, hands clasping, holding it inside because Iāll zap them both, fill them with my light yes fill them with my
the shadows flick-flicking my switch with their long crackling fingers
and I feel the twitch inside of me
a flutter
a spark
and itās so beautiful, itās so
But it doesnāt come. I stare up into Melās face and everything snaps back into place. Hard edges. Light and dark, solid. They said it might happen, during the pregnancy, the seizures might stop. A possibility. Likelihood. A chance. I canāt believe it: I didnāt go into the black.
Mel helps me get to my feet. I walk over to the kitchen table.
ā Are you all right?
ā I canāt believe it.
Iām laughing. I was going full tilt and then I felt this thing inside me and I knew: it was the baby, zapping me right back.
I hold out my arms and we hug and I hear myself say it into Melās hair,
ā I need to find my family.
0
So here I am. Todayās the day, and though Iām not saying it out loud, Iām saying it in my head: Dad. But it just doesnāt sound right. As much as I want it to, it doesnāt and Iām trying to get used to it, the word in my head. Dad. I sat in bed last night whispering it to myself. Such a tiny little word but itās impossible how big it is. My dad. Father. Dad.
It just feels so totally weird.
Itās the fear thatās been holding me back. Fear that heās just like her, like mother. Why heās never tried to find me. A man that loved her, had me and Mikey with her, that mustāve loved her at some point. And the thought that he might be like her, and the whole disappointment thing will start all over again. Itāll be hard not asking it, not getting angry.
Why did you leave us with that bitch?
What if Mam was right? What if he is a useless Irish cunt? Thereās something thatās not real about it. I canāt imagine it, seeing him for the first time. I really canāt. I try to picture what he looks like and I see our Mikey, but Mikeyās still a young lad in my head. Then I see a big man with huge sideboards and long black hair, and I want to see if his eyes are like a summerās sky, but I canāt and I donāt know why. ā What if he doesnāt like me?
ā Heāll love you, Lil. Who wouldnāt?
ā What if I donāt like him?
Weāre watching the huge planes making their way across the motorways of tarmac. They seem too big. I watch them take off and theyāre going too slow. Huge chunks of metal nosing up there, up and away like something in a slow dream, like trying to run but you canāt.
I stroke my belly, picturing it inside, bubbling, fizzing away, and I remember it zapping me and how powerful it felt. And I wonder if Mikey has any kids, whether heās married. I wonder if my dadās got someone? I might have this huge family in Ireland that I know nothing about.
I keep thinking about the past year, about the police coming to the Golden Nugget and then meeting Barry and then coming down to London, looking, searching. I stroke my stomach and look at Mel and think: it wasnāt all pointless.
And I keep thinking about yesterday ā my day of thank yous. Al phoned saying that some bruiser had been round to the shop with an envelope. I said how big is the envelope and he said like thereās nothing in it. A cheque. Al said the bruiser told him that if he lost it, his life wouldnāt be worth living. So Barry had done it ā coughed up Mikeyās share. I told Al not to fret and gave him my account number and told him to pay it into the bank.
And then I told him about Ireland. He was quiet on the other end of the phone. I told him that whatever happens, heās the nearest thing Iāve ever had to a dad, and that Iāll always think of him that way. Always. I tried really hard not to cry.
After I picked up my passport, and me and Mel had pissed ourselves at my photo ā startled rabbit in car headlights ā I rang the Helpline to thank them for being so brilliant. I told them they could shut the case.
Then I put a card in the post to Sylvia.
And now Iām bricking it. A lot of people seem to be moving about. I check my handbag again, make sure Iāve got all my pills, though I havenāt had a fit in two weeks now and Iām so excited I want to run in circles screaming.
ā You know, Lil, I really ā¦
ā Oh shush.
ā And I just ā¦
My elbow in her ribs and weāre laughing.
ā Iāll be there for you, whatever, you know.
Thereās that fizz between us again and I donāt know why, but Iām embarrassed. I want to tell her that I love her. Really love her.
She stretches her arms and yawns, looks at her watch, and my guts are turning and squirming like worms again.
I take the bits of paper out of my handbag and read them for the umpteenth time, looking for god knows. Weād Googled pubs called OāConnorās in Dublin, but it kept coming up with nonsense. There seemed to be a pub called OāConnorās in a place called Doolin, but that was on the other side of the country. Mel said thereās a good chance the pub isnāt on a website. But weāll find it. I know we will. And Iāll tell Mikey about th...