She was official, she was free of Original Sin, it was safe for her to die because she would float straight up to Heaven. I had handed her over to Jesus. I had sworn to keep her on the straight and narrow path of a religious upbringing. Me, the woman who fell off the path at the first hurdle. I had named her Serena Bridget Johns when she wasn’t a Johns, but then her stand-in father wasn’t a Johns either; he was an O’Connell, son of Father Pat. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I had married into the Church.

I’m not mad, I thought to myself, every other person around here with a head is. I’m doing alright. Kathleen was all teary; Matthew was so chuffed he couldn’t speak. Daddy came over and shook my hand like I’d run a race and won. I wiped the feel of his lovely old calloused palm on the side of my jacket before I gave in and smiled. I’d never be done missing him.

John Johns spun Serena around in the air and the lace flew round her like flower petals. Auntie Eileen and Bridie were debating whether or not to put tomatoes in the ham sandwiches, a life-and-death decision. Things were going to settle down to what passed for normal in County Tyrone, whether I liked it or not.

No one asked me if I was happy, if I was coping alright. I looked up at the sky and for the first time in a long time I didn’t want to float up, up and away. I wanted to stay right here until Serena was old enough to come with me. Mammy walked over, reeking of elastic and disapproval.

–  There was hardly a need for such a flashy christening robe, given the unfortunate circumstances, she says. You just can’t seem to learn decency, Mary Rattigan.

I’d always have her to keep me firmly on the ground. She’d drive stakes through my feet if that’s what it took.

18

Serena walked early and was such a strong little thing. She was determined from the top of her black curls to the tips of her pink toes. She wasn’t quite a year old when she hung off the back of the half-door, her treat being swung backwards when John came in. When she was older still, he pretended not to have seen her and would ask Bridie and me, Where’s my girl? I can’t find her! And we’d all play the game ’til she came rushing at him, grabbing him by the knees and shouting ‘Dada, Dada’ before he whooshed her up in the air and brought her down squealing for a kiss. He was her whole world and she was his. In this way, with her to glue us together, we limped on, a three-legged race.