Tom bursts through the door, announcing himself and throwing a pound of wrapped ham down on the table. Not fish, but ham. Something about that hits me harder than I would have imagined. I was looking forward to attempting fish again, to use what Betty taught me. I suppose Tom might not think it’s worth the money to let me practise.
He starts telling us about what’s happening in town. Small, tiresome gossip that doesn’t mean anything to him, but that he pretends to be scandalised by. Nothing about Bill or Betty Nevan. I was hoping we might have been called back down to their houseby now. It’s embarrassing to be waiting for an invitation that might never come. How terribly I want to be shown ways to hold the knife against the belly of a fish. How to pull it through with such poise that it appears to be art rather than slaughter. How to do anything with the grace and fearlessness of Betty Nevan. Like I said, it’s embarrassing.
Tom wipes his hands on his trouser legs and sits down at the table. Enlivened from the socialising. Inwardly, I’m sure he is imploding over the silence of Bill Nevan, who he was half counting on for a job. However, as ever, he doesn’t allow himself to become derailed.
‘Come here to me, girl.’
He calls, his arms out to Peggy. Occasionally, he decides to switch on his heart for her. Jack throws his eyes up to heaven. Maybe Tom is trying to put some truth into his lies about how close a family we are. If he was to be honest, I think the nicest thing Tom could say about Peggy is that he is indifferent to her. Perhaps it’s the shock of his attention, perhaps it’s knowing that she is too old for this, but Peggy hesitates before sitting on his knee. Jack’s face is decidedly still as she leaves his side.
And even though I know it’s contrived, my heart softens to see them like this. Tom is right to stay positive. He never lets things swallow him up. I wish I could be the same way.
‘Ah, aren’t ye lovely?’
I cannot help but say. Tom bouncing Peggy on his knee, and Peggy letting him, acting younger than she really is. He starts singing a song I don’t recognise. Something he made up himself, probably. Suddenly I realise how lucky we are to have each other in this new town. To have people we are entirely comfortable with, and a place where we can be ourselves. Right now, with the four of us together, it’s like we never left Kilmarra. It’s like nothing ever changed. Equally comforting andheartbreaking. What great, sudden love I feel. My heart liquifies, the blood rushes out of me. Out of control.
‘Sing me a song, will you?’
Tom says, softly, smiling, right in Peggy’s hair. She recoils, his breath in her ear. It seems, for now, he has decided to love her. Daddy used to sit me up on his lap when I was little. He used to bounce me up and down and treat me like I was the centre of the universe, the way Tom sometimes treats Peggy. I was so loved by my father. Nobody loves me that much anymore. Nobody tries to, and I suppose nobody could. I want to get to a place where I appreciate those things without feeling hurt. I want to be asked to sing, too.
Peggy starts, her little voice high up, bringing life to the room. ‘Weila Waile’. It makes us laugh. What a song for a little girl to sing. I pretend not to care where she learned it, because right now, we are all happy. It has been so long since we were all happy at the same time. Tom has done his job. It’s good to be here, just for now it’s really good. If you could see us. If you could just come up the garden path and knock lightly on the door. You’d be so welcome, if you would come.
And just as suddenly as my heart melted a moment ago, it has solidified again; it almost ceases to beat. It’s hard to see Tom do this to her. A sudden outpouring of the love that she is famished of, which he will take away again without thinking. It’s hard to see Peggy loved. She is the last piece of Mammy that I have. She is the reason I have no Mammy. Complicated.
Whatever was within me a second ago that was letting me enjoy myself has disappeared. I can’t help but get lonely for you when I’m supposed to be happy. It feels inescapable. If I can’t even enjoy myself in the good times, then when am I going to enjoy myself? When is the weight of all this going to go away?
The anxiety comes over me. I don’t think I’ll ever feel right again.The fear takes up every thought. It fills the spaces between my clenched teeth. I try to put it all to the back of my mind, but you’re already there. You’re everywhere.
Yes, what a song for a little girl to sing. How horribly inappropriate. I’ve lost the humour in it. Tom encourages Peggy as though he really is entertained by her. As though he is mad for her. He seems to have stepped into the perfection that he is always trying to create. Like nothing bothers him anymore. The claws of his bachelorhood don’t sink in as deep as they used to. The shame of his past doesn’t hang as heavily. It seems like he has it all sorted. I just don’t know if I believe it.
Such a pity that happiness isn’t actually contagious. Such a hard thing to be the odd one out, not feeling what everybody else feels. Not enjoying what everybody else enjoys.
It’s just January, that’s all. I’m sure. The cold and the headaches of the season. Everybody is irritable in January. It’s just that I feel disappointed we haven’t heard from the Nevans. That’s it.
Come on, Betty, knock on the door and solve me. Solve it all.
Tom
DUTIFULLY, I WAIT FOR BILL’Sword.
And each day, I act like I am not wounded by my own hopes. Outside, with Jack, I clean up the yard. Anna insists we stay busy. The Devil makes work for idle hands, and all that.
‘I’ve big plans for this place.’
I tell Jack, pushing the shovel into the earth. Pushing my positivity into him.
‘Peggy will plant sunflowers for me here, and I’ll get us a wheelbarrow and bicycles. I might get myself a little writing desk, and we’ll have a bed each. And whatever else we like.’
Jack makes no signs to say that he doubts me, but he doesn’t seem to believe me either. I want to feel he’s on my side.
‘We’ll go out for a few pints soon, just the pair of us. Scope the place out properly.’
And though he tries to stifle it, I see a smile coming to his eyes. There was a time when Jack couldn’t be kept out of the pub. Always in with the boys, after the women. The women were weak for him. Not boorish, he was charming. Able to read people and understand them. It suited him. I’ll coax that rogue back out of him. It would suit me.
‘There might be a dance on or something.’
Now we’re making progress.
‘We might meet a few women.’
