‘Yeah, good, thanks. How’re you?’
‘Happy to have my unofficial godson in the house.’ He speak-shouts with a slap on my back. I was never christened so this feels like another dig.
I glance at Mum, who rolls her eyes. ‘Give over, you.’ She gives her brother a big hug. ‘Thanks again for having us.’
‘Of course. Sure, where else would you stay?’ Aunt Sheila gives her a kiss. She points at the suitcases in the car boot. ‘Is that all you’ve brought?’
It’s a pathetically small amount of belongings, considering we’ve moved to a different country (kind of).
Mum lifts her bag. ‘The rest is getting sent to a storage place.’
‘Amount of stuff you and Jack had, it’d probably fill our whole house,’ says Tommy with a smirk.
We all freeze at the mention of Dad.
Sheila tuts, breaking the silence. ‘Shut you up and make yourself useful with those bags. Aoife, let’s get the kettle on and leave these strong men to the hard work. Cormac,’ she calls, ‘come help!’ She pulls Mum towards the house.
Tommy appraises my arms. ‘I’ll take this big one. Can you manage your wee suitcase, Micheál?’
I ignore the dig and give a thumbs up as Tommy carries Mum’s suitcase into the house.
‘All right, cuz?’ Cormac swings round the gate with a grin. He’s a little taller than me, with the standard McCutcheon ginger hair, cropped short. We have an awkward hug and then he steps back to take in my clothes. Skinny jeans, oversized green jumper and battered Doc Martens.
‘Is this how they dress in London then? You look like you’re in a Netflix show! Well fancy.’
‘Thanks. I’m taking that as a compliment.’
He laughs, a loud bark of a laugh. ‘Right, let’s get you in. My da bought you an inflatable bed. Had a go on it myself. It’s class. Like sleeping on a bouncy castle.’
‘That’s the dream!’
Cormac slaps me on the back. ‘Exactly! Nothing but the best for you.’
We take the suitcase and remaining bags from the boot. As we walk towards the house, my headache flares again. I make a grab for the gate.
There’s a flash behind me and pain prickles my neck. I rub my eyes, and when I take my hands away the whole street is filled with a shimmering light. I drop my bag, staggering back from the gate and into Cormac.
‘Michael?’
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Cormac holds my elbow. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m fine. It’s only a headache,’ I say through gritted teeth. The pain is like a hot needle in the middle of my forehead as orange and red blooms behind my closed eyes.
I fight the urge to open them. This is what happened on the ferry. I saw something. In the light. What was it?
‘I’m getting your ma!’
‘No, please. I’m fine,’ I wheeze.
A bird flies somewhere above me, its wingbeats matching my heart.
The light surges against my eyelids, like a wave crashing against the side of a ship. Then it fades.
I open my eyes and everything is as it was before.
Cormac’s eyebrows are practically on top of his head. ‘D’fuck was that? You want me to get Auntie Aoife?’
