Mum says she’s fine with me staying at Nanny Bet’s. I don’t believe her.
I’m grateful to have a reason to not see Paul after his notdate with Ellen though.
No worries, we’re still out anyway
Of course they are. You’re an idiot, Michael.
I try not to think about him as I fill my suitcase. I pack the envelope of photos along with Dad’s notebook, wallet and the pinhole camera. I’m tempted to leave them here, but if Cormac or anyone was to find them, I’d have a tough time explaining. I want to destroy them, but I can’t risk what forgetting would mean. I have to live with what I know, like Nanny Bet did.
And Dad too…
He was looking so frail in the hospital today. He’s lost weight and now the cuts and swelling on his face are healing, his cheekbones poke out like painful ridges.
Sheila gives me a massive hug and I promise I’ll be back soon.
Mum pulls up outside Nanny Bet’s, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel. ‘Love you.’
‘You too.’ I give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘See you tomorrow at the hospital.’
She nods but doesn’t speak as I get out of the car. It hurts like fuck, but what can I do?
Nanny Bet puts the kettle on as I go to unpack in Dad’s old room. Fergal is lying on the bed and hisses at me, his cone of shame stopping him getting at the stitches on his side. I pull open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and put in the photos and Dad’s camera and notebook. I keep his wallet in my jacket pocket though. It smells like him.
We sip on our drinks in the living room. The clock ticks.
‘So,’ says Nanny Bet, ‘when did you last see a vision.’
‘Well, I think this afternoon. Though I guess I could be seeing more and forgetting them, right?’ My head hurts with the frustration of it all.
‘No, even if you aren’t seeing the visions themselves, you’ll remember that they’ve attempted to contact you. Every triggering of a vision is a message from the Morrigan. A call to action. Something she wants us to know, something she wants remembered. Another tale she wants told.’
The pale, terrible beauty of her face, arms outstretched, voice like ice, pierces my mind.
File báis.
‘How do I stop her?’
Nanny Bet stands up. ‘You can’t. She’s a goddess.’
I sag. ‘So how do you…’
She smiles thinly. ‘You live with it. With time and patience, you can learn to look away. The lights will diminish even if the pain is always there.’
‘You still have headaches?’
She runs a hand through her hair. ‘All the time. Every moment of every day. But it’s better than seeing the horrors they throw at us.’
What has she been living with? ‘I’d no idea.’
‘It’s my choice. And it can be yours too, if you’re prepared to pay the price.’
I nod.
She starts walking towards the back door. ‘Come on then. Let’s learn how to defy a goddess.’
The lights across the city are twinkling as night closes in around us. Nanny Bet has a cardigan wrapped round her and I’ve my jacket on as we sit on the garden chairs. Goosebumps prickle my neck as I spy black feathers moving among the leaves of the shadowy trees.
‘Why are we out here?’ I ask.
