As I step away, there’s a prickle of heat at the back of my neck. I turn and look at the back of the garden fence and all of Belfast beyond. Something itches at the back of my mind.
The crow is still tapping its beak on the fence post.
‘Michael…?’ Nanny Bet rubs my arm.
I smile. ‘Sorry, just love the view. Thanks for today.’ I step over Fergal and leave.
I’m not ready to meet the others so I wander through the estate.
I try to picture Dad growing up here, and his absence gnaws at me. Not the man he became, but the Dad I remember from when I was younger. When he was happy.
The drinking got bad about four years ago and then he started missing jobs. His mood swings were fierce. He never got angry, that I saw, but he was cold. The Dad that hugged me and laughed at my jokes became distant. He and Mum kept me out of their fights, which I know on some level was out of love but all it really did was keep me out of their lives.
We lived in a forced niceness for a while. Dad would go on shoots for a few days at a time, but we’d never see the photos. Mum dealt with it by overcompensating, showering me with affection then discreetly wiping at tears as we chopped veg for dinner. But whenever I asked what was going on, the answer was always the same. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
The last year was really bad.
Dad sold his car. He wasn’t working but would disappear for days. No matter how loud I turned up the music on my headphones, I couldn’t drown out the arguments about the mortgage and the bills. I’d do what I could to help round the house. I stopped asking for pocket money and said no to school trips and days out with friends. I thought if I could make things a little easier, it might be OK.
Then one day, Dad left for good.
I came home from school and Mum was sitting on the sofa, hands clasped together. ‘He’s gone this time.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he can’t be here any more.’
‘When’ll he be back?’
She started crying then and something in me broke. I hugged her and made her tea. I tried to ask about what happened, but she only cried again. We existed like that for a few months. I’d try to find out where my dad was and Mum would fall apart.
Since then, I’ve texted Dad once a week. He’s never replied.
I lean against a wall and take out my phone. I scroll down.
We’re in Belfast now. I hope you
are well. Love M x
As always, I wait a few seconds to see if he’s seen it.
Nothing.
I slump against the wall. There’s a familiar numbness in my hands and a heaviness behind my eyes.
I check to see if Ben has replied, but he hasn’t. I consider calling him, but what’s the point? He won’t answer.
He hates you.
Cormac has messaged three times, asking where I am. I want to cancel, but I promised him and Meg and I kind of need a distraction.
And that distraction is called Paul.
Chapter Six
