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Chapters (90)
  1. Cover
  2. By the same author
  3. SUZY SUZY
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Glossary of Dialect Terms
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  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. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. About William Wall
  90. An Invitation from the Publisher

Are you married, Peter?

Never married, he said, never worried, never wed, never fed.

52

I’d say Peter could talk for Ireland. All I had to do was drink my tea and eat my biscuits. But it was idk OK. He was OK. While he talked I looked at things. He had a picture over the fireplace that must have been his mother. She looked like a nice woman. She was standing beside a door that was like the door of a school. She was smiling. He had a painting on another wall of birds flying over mud. He had a bookshelf. There was an antique kind of sideboard thing with willow-pattern plates. There was a big round basket full of turf.

When the tea was finished he made another pot and more biscuits came out, different ones but still chocolate. It was maybe after an hour that he said to me, What ails you, child? What has you down today?

And then I didn’t know what to say. I was trying to think where to start. I looked in on my dad before I left and he was thrown on the bed snoring. Thunder and lightning wouldn’t wake him.

I don’t know, I said. Like if my dad is not well?

Why didn’t you say so from the get go? Does he need a doctor?

I don’t know, I said, I think maybe it’s like depression. I don’t know. Maybe.

He was just going to drink his tea. He had the cup to his lips. He stopped doing it. Very slowly he put the cup back on the saucer. He said something in Irish. My Irish is crap really. It’s not bad for reading but I’m crap at listening tests.

Then he goes: Has he the darkness on him?

That took me by surprise. It was so beautiful. I didn’t know there was a beautiful way of saying it like everybody just says depression or mood.

I said I didn’t know, that he was just sleeping all the time, that he took sleeping pills.

The poor man. Did he only take the prescribed dosage though?

I said I didn’t know what my dad was doing. I didn’t know what was going on. I thought he was running away from my mother because they were going to split up, that he tricked me into coming too, also that he was maybe running away from debts, that I was worried about him, and I was worried about my family, and my brother was in trouble too. I was worried that maybe he wanted to kill himself too or something idk. Maybe. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what else I said. He listened to me.

Then he said, My daddy was locked up, in the asylum beyond. He was cracked from whiskey.