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Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Dedication
  4. Dedication2
  5. 1994
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 2006
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 2018
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. Acknowledgements

‘Like drugs coming out of our muscles?’

‘Maybe it’s god,’ Peggy said.

‘Maybe we’re going to die.’ Greta looked at the back of her hand.

‘Brain tumour,’ Peggy said. They didn’t want to close their eyes. It had been bad before and any kind of shift must be a shift for the best, unless they really were dying. But realistically, at this point, feeling as lost as they did – can’t go back, not sure how to go forward – maybe dying would be a relief. They thought about it a lot. They didn’t tell anyone, but they thought about it. Mainly they thought about bleeding to death. It sounded like it would be slow and relaxed. They’d tried a couple of times when they were drinking. It didn’t work very well, mainly because they were drunk. Some days they were sure it was the last day and they’d see that they needed to drink to end it, and they’d drink and cry for a bit but still be sure they were going to kill themselves, then they would drink a bit more and think, ‘Fuck them,’ and they’d drink a bit more and think, ‘They deserve to die, not me,’ and they’d change the plan and start a new plan about how maybe someone else needed to bleed to death. Then they’d drink some more. Towards the end of their drinking, after there were two of them, they’d plan together and talk about the plan, and it would get bigger and bigger and more and more people would be implicated and they would cheer each other on and drink some more and get fed up with how long it was all taking and have a bit of a lie-down and pass out and wake up the next morning with really bad hangovers and Orla knocking on the door, because did they have the breadknife? Roxana and Jimmy had stolen some bread, Orla shouted, but it wasn’t sliced. Did they want toast? Generally, they wanted toast. Thought they wanted toast, but then when it was in front of them they couldn’t stomach even a slice and they would look at Orla and Roxana and think, ‘We should have killed everyone last night when we had the chance.’

‘And ourselves,’ Greta would breathe under her breath.

‘Amen,’ Peggy would say. ‘A-fucking-men.’