‘Sorry, indecisiveness in action here, we’re not used to witnesses,’ said Mr McCoy.
‘Well, maybe it’s a good time to let you get on with things, it’s probably best to keep it brief for today,’ Dad said. ‘You’ve a big day tomorrow with the grandparents coming and everything, so if Ronan’s in sleep mode I take it that might allow you both a bit of sleep too?’
Despite their politeness, I could see they were exhausted.
‘Dad and me are doing the turkey,’ I said.
‘Aye, Christine’s on night duty,’ Dad said, ‘so Brendan and me are doing the Christmas dinner prep tonight. She’s off tomorrow so we’ll have the day together but we’ve a night ahead us. Master chefs we are not!’
‘Well, I know it’s been short but let’s make this a regular thing when we start to get a bit of a system going, OK?’ said Mrs McCoy. ‘We’ll just keep in touch and go from there? Are you OK with that, Brendan?’
I looked at Ronan, fast asleep. I just wanted my friend back.
‘Yeah,’ I said, standing up and putting my hand on top of Ronan’s. It was the first time I had touched him.
‘Happy Christmas, Ronan,’ I said.
20
On Christmas Day Granny’s chair was empty at the dinner table. I missed her. But the day wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be because Mum, for the first time all year, it felt, actually engaged with Dad and me and spent the whole day with us. She even ate most of the turkey dinner Dad and me had prepared. She talked about Granny sometimes. Tears were shed, but they were tears brought on by good memories.
‘Grief is love,’ Mr Feeney always said. ‘The greater the grief, the greater the love.’
On Boxing Day the McCoys phoned. Their Christmas Day had been great, better than they could have imagined, they even slept all Christmas night because Ronan, after having had such a good time with his grandparents all day, was exhausted and slept right through; Mr and Mrs McCoy said they hadn’t had a whole night’s sleep in weeks.
‘Never underestimate the power of sleep!’ said Mr McCoy. ‘But a night of good sleep means many nights ofnosleep to come. We know the pattern.’
‘Maybe that one night of sleep was Ronan’s Christmas present to you,’ I said and they laughed.
‘Oh, and Ronan absolutely loves the book you got him, Brendan!’ said Mrs McCoy.
‘It’ll come in handy during the sleepless nights,’ said Mr McCoy with a mock gloom.
‘Alright, Mr Positive,’ said Mrs McCoy. ‘Anyway, speaking of staying up late, have you any plans for New Year’s, Brendan?’
‘No, we normally just stay in and do party food and watch Jools Holland,’ I said.
‘Well, that’s just what we were thinking of doing, nothing fancy, would you want to join us? Your mum and dad are more than welcome too?’
New Year’s Eve was one of Mum’s few nights off work over the holidays. Dad and me couldn’t believe it when she said she thought going to the McCoys sounded like a lovely idea. When New Year’s Eve came round it took her all afternoon to get ready.
Everything was just the same inside the McCoys’ home as it had been on Christmas Eve, except a fold-out picnic table had been set up in the sitting room with a spread of party food laid out on top: cocktail sausages, turkey sandwiches, spring rolls, tortilla chips and salsa, hummus and pitta bread and olives, chocolate brownie bites and shortbread fingers and iced buns and a tin of Quality Street. There was an ice bucket with champagne, white wine and bottles of beer in it and a jug of iced lemonade on the table. Ronan had a lidded tumbler in a holder on his wheelchair; a long straw came up from it to his chin so he could drink whenever he wanted. He busted out another huge laugh when I came into the room.
‘Here comes the laughing man,’ said Mr McCoy.
If that was how Ronan greeted me every time I visited then it was going to be impossible to keep me away. It made mefeel like I was the person he’d been wanting to see the most, the same feeling I got when I used to wait at the school gates for him and I’d see his face with that big smile through the window of his parents’ car as he arrived. It wasexactlythe same feeling as that, but in a new way. Mrs O’Neill’s plan seemed to be happening after all.
‘I hear you liked the book I got you, Ronan,’ I said. He grinned and made a humming noise. ‘Maybe we can have a flick through it later?’ He did an awkward nod and shifted in his seat and hummed again.
‘He loves it, Brendan,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘wish we could get him as interested in some of the educational ones.’
‘Will that be resuming?’ Mum asked. ‘His education?’ I could see that she was feeling nervous in company after having spent so much time on her own.
‘Well,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘I think we realise now that many things are going to take longer than we thought. Obviously we’d love Ronan to be back at school but he’s not ready just yet.’
She saidyet.I wanted to ask,when?
‘Well, it has only been a matter of months, things take time,’ Mum said.
