I was annoyed. ‘Why do you think I’m not the right fit?’
‘Sally, you have no proper qualifications. I’m glad you like my kids but the fact that they are the only kids you like is … weird. What if they misbehaved with you? I don’t know how you would handle discipline if you were angry with them.’
‘Usually, when I am angry or depressed, I pull my hair out,’ I said.
‘Oh my God! Don’t you see how that would upset them?’
‘I wouldn’t pull their hair out, and sometimes I play the piano to calm myself.’
‘I’m sorry, Sally. If you’re looking for a job, I don’t think childminding is right for you. But, you know, I honestly think yoga might help you to cope with stress. Think about it. First two classes for free. What do you say?’
She was smiling again. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I said and turned to leave. ‘Will you tell Abebi that I’m not coming to the nativity play? Children are usually terrible actors.’
She laughed. I guess she thought I was joking. ‘I understand. Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be missing much.’
I went towards the door.
‘Hey, happy Christmas, Sally!’ she said.
‘Happy Christmas, especially to the children,’ I said.
14
On Friday 22nd December, in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door. It was the postman, with a parcel delivery, a small enough box, but too big to fit into the letter box. I put it with all the cards and letters. Later that evening, it occurred to me that I should open them all. What was I waiting for? Waiting to open envelopes had already caused me enough trouble. There were ten or twelve cards addressed to Dad – some were postmarked before his death – and a few were addressed to me.
3rd December
Christmas greetings to you and Sally, love from Christine and Donald! X
P.S. I hope another year doesn’t go by before we get to see you. Please visit us soon, and bring Sally. I bet she hardly remembers us but we’d love to see her again. She should know she has other family.
Christine was Mum’s sister, the glamorous lady who looked like a film star. I remembered Mum used to go on foreign holidays with her and visit her in Dublin, and their long phone conversations. There was a phone number and an address in Donnybrook, Dublin 4.
Then another card addressed to me in the same handwriting:
16th December
Dear Sally,
We were so sorry to hear of Tom’s death. I have tried phoning you many times, but perhaps you have changed your number. We last saw you when you were a teenager, you may not remember. I am your mother’s sister. Jean and I were close but your dad seemed to withdraw from the world after Jean died and, although I tried to keep in touch, he was reluctant to maintain contact.
We often thought of you both but respected your father’s wish for privacy. Unfortunately, Donald is not in good health, and we cannot make it to the funeral, but he is convalescing at home now. We would love to come and see you and help in any way we can.
I saw from the newspaper coverage that you must have been confused at the time of Tom’s death. We were in touch with the guards to explain that you have a condition and were so relieved that the matter was resolved. I also spoke to Dr Angela Caffrey and I was happy that you had a loyal and trusted friend of Jean’s to speak on your behalf. PLEASE do call. We would love to see you as soon as possible. You might consider joining us for Christmas?
She signed off with love and her phone number.
There was a letter, handwritten, one page, ripped out of a copybook. The handwriting was terrible. The address was incomplete too, but the letter had found me.
Saly Dimond
You are the spawn of the devil and you wil get your punishmen. How dere you burn the good man like that after he tuk you in and saved you from hell. Hell is were you belong. Im prayin to the Virgin Mary that you go there soon, you bich. Its to late for repentesne. The appel dusnt fall far frum the tree.
No signature and the paper was almost torn in places where the biro had been dug into the page. Dad and I had agreed long ago that hell didn’t exist but the writer obviously hated me and that made me feel anxious. The next card took my anxiety away.
Dear Sally,
You might not remember me but we were in school together in Roscommon from 1st Year to 6th Year and we often sat beside each other in class (because nobody else wanted to sit with us!).
