‘Um, what about our big day out?’ says Cormac.
Crap.
We made plans last night, and Meg has already texted to confirm. My head is so foggy. ‘Oh yeah. Well, we can do that after.’
‘What you doing?’ asks Mum.
‘Heading into town with a few people.’
This seems to make her happy. ‘That sounds lovely. With you, Cormac?’
He spears some bacon. ‘Yup. I’m going to show him therealBelfast. The things you won’t see on any official maps. We’re going to slime our way through the seedy underbelly of this dirty town. The—’
‘Would you ever give over,’ groans Uncle Tommy as he heads past the table. ‘Michael, don’t listen to that eejit.’ Cormac’s smile flickers for a second. ‘See you later, love.’
Tommy kisses Sheila on the top of the head as she sets down a mountain of potato bread. My uncontested favourite breakfast food. My stomach seems to have forgiven me now and I pile up my plate.
After a detailed briefing from Sheila on how to use the shower (I manage to scald and freeze myself), I get ready, and Mum and I set off to see Nanny Bet. She lives three streets up the hill, in what Mum has always said is the fancier end of the estate but that looks identical to me.
As we walk, Mum says hello to neighbours and our fiveminute stroll becomes a twenty-minute rolling interview as they ask when we got here, if we’ve heard about the trouble and how long we’re staying. Then, of course, there’s the now familiar pause in the conversation when they mention Dad, do a sad little nod and change the subject.
Everyone knows everyone, which I find incredibly odd. In London we knew about four people on our street and even that was just to say hello. People came and went so quickly or just got on with their own lives and ignored everyone else.
Here, people stay in the houses they grew up in. There are multiple generations living on the estate and as a result everyoneknows everything about everyone. They’re keen to give Mum the low-down, and hot topics today include Big Sean getting his extension approved, the O’Neills’ youngest having chicken pox and the new coffee shop that the Laverys have opened up down the road, which is a bit of a rip-off but does good French toast.
To be honest, I’m grateful for all the interruptions as they mean I don’t have to have any more awkward chats with Mum. I just want to coast through the day and not rock the boat.
The boat!
No. Stop that.
‘Ugh!’
Mum stiffens and my cheeks burn red as I realise I just said that out loud. ‘Sorry, I was thinking of something else.’ I walk on while she finishes her conversation.
‘What was that?’ she says, catching me up.
‘Nothing.’
‘It’s not like you to be rude.’
‘I said sorry.’
‘What’s got into you?’
A thousand angry responses force their way from my brain to my tongue, spurred on by the heat in my ears and neck.
‘Nothing,’ I mumble and walk faster.
Nanny Bet’s house is bright and airy, and wind chimes tinkle in the summer breeze. It’s filled with figurines and framed cross-stitched images of plants, insects and birds. And there are books everywhere, including all her published poetry collections.
On the wall are some of Dad’s photographs – black-andwhite prints of people in the war zones he visited when he was younger, rather than his later celebrity pics. He wouldn’t haveany of his early work up in our house so this is the only place I can see it. Meg was right, he really was talented.
The kitchen smells of freshly baked soda bread and the coffee that is always on the pot. Everyone else in my family drinks tea, but Nanny Bet drinks coffee that’s ‘strong enough to turn the river Lagan’.
Her garden is huge. Trees and shrubs run along both sides, and there’s a teal wrought-iron table and chair set where she spends most non-raining days. A path cuts down the middle to a red fence and beyond that is the most incredible view.
You can see all of Belfast from here. From Cave Hill to the north, to the docks with Samson and Goliath – the famous yellow cranes – all the way to the opposite mountain in East Belfast and Stormont Castle, where Northern Ireland’s government sits ‘when they can be arsed’. I love this view.
