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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

She looked at me and then she looked at my dad. I looked at him too and I saw he was smiling. Like a little smile. Like he was doing his best to hide it but he couldn’t. My mam got into the car and drove away. We watched her as long as we could. We could see the roof of the car winking in the sunlight away down towards Peter’s house. Then it was gone.

OK, my dad said, that didn’t work. Plan B.

I stared at him. Like what didn’t work? He’s lying in the bed dying and it’s Plan B? He went into the house and after approximately thirty seconds I could hear him on his phone. The phone he told me was in a bin at the office. Now I really wanted to run down through the field and take a flier over the edge. I even turned round and tried to figure out a way to get over the barbed wire without ripping my jeans until I realised that ripped jeans wouldn’t matter so much if I threw myself in the sea. Then my dad came out. He pressed the button that opened the car and the lights flashed. It makes a little squeaking sound. A sheep that was eating something on a ditch looked around. She didn’t give a flying fuck. We could drive into the sea and she would still be eating grass.

Get your kit, Suzy, we’re moving out.

I didn’t know if he was happy or just decisive. He was businesslike. This was how he bought houses. He already had a plan. In his mind there are plans and mostly they work. In my life plans are all fucked up. There is no plan because everything just happens. I am always at the fall-back position and still falling.

56

The white road home. Even the bogs were bleached white by winter. Some kind of bleached reeds or long grass maybe and these crazy walls whitened by lichen. To make the fields they had to take the stones out first otherwise they would have been stone fields. Nobody grows stones. Sometimes the field was so small you could hardly stand in it. And in places there were the scabs of cut turf and the scar of the cutaway. We drove home through the mountains and came out in a place where there were buses and houses and small towns with WiFi cafes and I knew then we were going to finish up at home and everything would start all over again. This must be some kind of hell, where all your mistakes keep happening no matter what you do.