I shudder as I think of the undeveloped photos from the graveyard, tucked away in my bag. ‘Yeah, one or two.’
Sheila sits down with her tea and butters a slice of toast. ‘So, where you off to today then?’
‘The docks.’
‘Just like your daddy,’ says Sheila.
‘Huh?’
Sheila looks at Mum and starts blinking rapidly. ‘I just mean, he was always there.’
‘Obsessed, he was,’ says Tommy.
I have questions, but the door swings open.
‘Morning, all.’ Cormac struts in wearing a shirt. ‘Please, please, no photos.’ He gestures at invisible paparazzi. ‘I want some time with my family.’
‘Give over, you headcase,’ says Tommy.
Cormac’s smile falters for a second as he sits down.
‘You look lovely, son,’ says Sheila. ‘Are you nervous?’
‘Nah, they’ll love me.’ He passes an imaginary drink to Mum. ‘Here’s your mocha choca soya papa tango! A tip for me? Why, thank you! Easy as.’
We laugh but Tommy shoots him a look. ‘You need to take it seriously. Stop acting the eejit.’
Cormac rolls his eyes. ‘I will. I’m only messing. And anyway acting the eejit is actually up there with playing Hamlet in terms of theatrical goals.’
Tommy grunts and picks up his phone.
We sit in silence for a bit. Spoons hit the bottoms of cups. Knives scrape on toast and the tinny sound of a cartoon plays from Fiona’s headphones.
Eventually Mum reaches over and takes Cormac’s hand. ‘You’ll do brilliantly.’ He smiles up at her, but I can see his lower lip trembling.
Tommy drains his cup of tea. ‘I’m off. Good luck today, our kid.’ He pats Cormac on the arm and heads out.
The embarrassment radiates off Cormac, so I focus on the food in front of me, cutting up my egg like I’m diffusing a bomb. Tommy gives Cormac such a hard time. I contemplate asking why Dad used to go to the docks, but there’s been enough awkwardness this morning already. Besides, I’m pretty sure I know why.
To see the past.
A bubble of excitement rises in my head. I’ve a good feeling about today. I finish the last of my breakfast and start cleaning up.
Mum picks up her phone. ‘Here, I have an idea. Why don’t you go to theTitanicmuseum while you’re down that way?’
‘Oh, I…’ I can’t think of an excuse.
‘That’s a great idea,’ says Sheila. ‘Cormac, you could go too.’
Cormac looks up. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to crash your plans, cuz.’
‘Michael doesn’t mind, do you?’ says Mum. ‘Sure, I’ll buy the tickets.’
There’s no way I can tell him not to come without sounding like an asshole, but what if I see a vision? ‘Of course, come meet us after your interview.’
Cormac grins. ‘Look at us, big interviews and museum trips. You’re really classing up this family of plebs.’
Sheila lightly slaps the back of his head. ‘Um, less of that. I’ve taken you to every museum in town and was bringing you to the theatre from when you were four.’
