The Insect Rosary (24 page)

Before

I swore I would never get on another boat. No more brandy balls and aniseed twists inched out of paper bags. Each glimpse of the scratchy tartan blanket that had covered me, now folded under Mum's arm, made me feel like retching.

I stood between Mum and Nancy, waiting to be allowed off the boat, pushing my books back into my bag where they didn't seem to fit anymore. I could smell the sandwich crusts in the picnic bag, cups dyed by the dregs of orange squash and crisp crumbs from the picnic somewhere between Liverpool and Ireland. I heard the lorries start up in the belly of the boat.

‘I am never, ever going back on a boat,' I announced.

‘It will be fine next time,' Mum said. ‘It was very unusual.' She didn't sound that sure. She'd been sick twice and had to hold Florence while she was sick too.

‘I've never heard the plates flying around in the kitchens before,' said Mum. ‘And for all the crew to be sick like that . . .' She put her hand over her mouth.

I closed my eyes and could feel the sway skywards and seawards, could smell the sick seeping outside the stainless steel toilets. Nancy poked me. I opened them quickly and edged forwards into the space in front.

 

Auntie Beth picked us up from the terminal with her bump sticking out in front of her. Mum kept up the conversation past three roundabouts and onto a fast road before falling asleep. I could see Florence splayed across her in the front seat.

‘Eithne. Eithne!' Auntie Beth tutted and stopped talking.

We drove away from the port on the good, hard ground, through the slabs of grey pebble-dashed villages under a greyer pebble-dashed sky. It was cold but I inched the window open to let the smell of food out.

Auntie Beth shouted, ‘Close that window, Bernadette!'

It hadn't been this bad before, Mum was right, but we made this trip every year and it had never been pleasant. This holiday had been the first to get a reaction from my friends at school. Maybe it was the first time that I'd said Northern Ireland, instead of just Ireland. Maybe we were all learning what the difference was. I knew people died there, I'd seen the masked men firing guns over coffins. I didn't think that I'd get blown up though. Drowning in the Irish Sea seemed a much more realistic possibility.

I didn't feel so bad now, and wasn't sleepy. I did rest my head on the suitcase on the seat between us, but it was just to look out of the window. The lights of the cars on the other side of the road swept over us and turned red as we left them behind. There were houses lit up by the road and distant points of light in the fields and hills above them. The stars were there. I couldn't see many now with all the lights, but I knew when we got there I would see all of the stars in the universe. Not like at home, too many street lamps and house lights and car beams. Not like here where, for days, you would only see the people who lived in the same house.

Auntie Beth cleared her throat, ‘I hope youse two are going to be helping your Mammy out. You're old enough now to not be running wild and worrying her.'

I sat up and looked at Mum. ‘I don't worry her.'

‘All children are a worry.' Auntie Beth looked at me in the rear view mirror. ‘Some more than others.'

I looked at Nancy. She moved her head from side to side and twisted her finger around. The laugh burst into my throat. I tried to turn it into a cough.

‘You'll wake your ma!'

‘Sorry,' I managed to say, and rested my head again.

The car turned gently, and then more sharply. The lights became occasional and shockingly bright. I waited until I saw the sign for the bar, lifted my head to see the phone box, and put my nose to the window.

Our road. Our home from home. Down the dip and up the rise, right and bumping over the cow grill, then Bruce jumping up at the window and barking. He weaved in front of the car and I held my breath, but there he was on the other side, safe. Mum was awake now, yawning and sitting Florence upright.

Auntie Beth pulled up on the left in front of the light blasted windows and we tumbled out of the car, fighting over Bruce. He remembered me best because I stroked him and fed him Sugar Puffs. Dogs don't forget things like that. I walked up the steps, but he nudged at my hand again and again. I didn't forget you either, I thought. I kissed his greasy furry head.

‘Come and help with the cases, girls,' said Auntie Beth, holding only her own stomach.

I rubbed my face against Bruce's neck and took a bag inside.

‘Auntie Agatha has a quick sandwich for you before bed.' Auntie Beth guarded the outside door. ‘In you go.'

In the kitchen Sister Agatha and Uncle Donn were sitting in the armchairs by the fire. They looked towards the open door as if they weren't particularly glad to see me. Then Donn smiled and Sister Agatha went to wet the tea. On the way she firmly closed the door to Cassie's room and turned the key in the lock.

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