Nanny Bet turns to face Meg, her chin raised. ‘Excuse me, this is my house and I need to speak to my grandson, alone. Please leave. Now!’
Her anger pulls me back into myself. She’s never like this.
Meg folds her arms and raises her chin too.
I start to sweat. ‘Meg, you should go. It’s fine.’
But she continues to stare at Nanny Bet, who glares back at her.
‘Meg…’
She keeps her gaze on Nanny Bet but talks to me. ‘I’ll go, but give me the camera.’
‘What?’
She lowers her voice. ‘I’ll keep it safe, Michael.’
Nanny Bet steps forward. ‘I don’t want the camera. I want to talk to my grandson.’ She smiles thinly. ‘To tell him the truth about the visions.’
I stare at her. ‘You know?’
‘Of course I know. I watched your dad discover them too. We need to talk.’
I place a hand on Meg’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be all right.’
‘Fine.’ She narrows her eyes at Nanny then leaves through the garden gate.
Nanny Bet lets out a breath and rubs her head. ‘I can’t believe this.’
Guilt thumps me. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you and I shouldn’t have come here without checking.’
She turns to me and the tension in her face melts. ‘Oh, love, no. You’re welcome here any time. This is your family home.’ She points at the pinhole camera. ‘It’s hard seeing that again.’
‘You know what it is?’
A nod. ‘My granda made it for me.’
My mouth actually drops open.
‘Come on,’ she says, ‘it’s time we had a proper chat about our powers.’
‘Ourpowers?’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘We are the filí báis.’
I need to learn Irish.
‘We’re what?’
‘The death poets.’
She refuses to say any more until she has a coffee. As the kettle boils, I sit on a garden chair and try to gather my thoughts.
Meg texts to see if I’m OK and I promise her I’ll message her as soon as I’m home.
Nanny Bet returns with two coffees. ‘You’ll need this, trust me.’
I clutch the mug as she sits opposite me, Fergal settling at her feet.
