Kieran.Stories

The sound of Lorcan’s thumbs rattling the controller kept her there. She was just watching him in his own world. In the time before Lorcan took his PlayStation upstairs, she had asked him about the game. You collected runes to level up, but if you died all those runes were lost. There was another game in which these runes were not runes but souls. It was the same idea. ‘I am Malenia, Blade of Miquelle.’ Lorcan waited, then it all started up again. She understood the appeal.   

Siobhan saw Elsie floating on the beck. It was quite an achievement; the beck was so shallow. She was face down in the water. Siobhan knew that red puffer jacket. It was too tight around the arms now, the jacket. Siobhan had suggested it was time to buy a new one, but Elsie wasn’t interested. She liked her old puffer. Bradford was the Promised Land, with all its shops. They could get a proper brand, something cool. But Elsie wouldn’t budge. Siobhan stood by the nettles. The beck was busy in the summer, but not now. Sometimes kids would slip trying to reach the middle. She could walk to the bridge and call for Elsie, and maybe her body would bob the right way up. What would that achieve? On her way back, she passed the husky lady. She never had control of them. She had this pained expression. Siobhan wondered how the husky lady had managed to land herself with her five huskies. It was almost like they’d arrived by accident, like they were an unexpected hassle.  

Lorcan was in the kitchen eating toast. Siobhan took her pint of water upstairs. She drank her water and lay in bed. Helen would be here later. The mother of Lorcan’s child; imagine that. Christmas. That word felt too heavy. Her parents as well. David’s mother was arriving in less than an hour to lend a hand. Siobhan should have cancelled the day altogether, but you can’t really cancel Christmas, it wouldn’t actually be feasible for Siobhan to do. But we’re not up to it this year. How could we possibly be up to it? There was a wet ring on her bedside table. She could wipe it away with the sleeve of her jumper. She could use a coaster in future. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of fucking coasters in the house. 

David had decorated the tree three weeks ago.

The bauble with Elsie’s name across it. She had misjudged the first ‘E’. It’s like icing a cake, okay, just a small amount of pressure. The feel of her hands caked in glue and glitter.

David came into the living room. He kissed her, then went to the tree.

Open this one now, he said. You have others, don’t worry.

Siobhan told him she wasn’t worried. She loosened the purple ribbon, opened the box.

It’s lovely, thank you.

He turned her around. She felt her hair being moved out of the way. The necklace stopped at her clavicle.

David said he’d make bacon butties. She heard the radiator clank.

They would call it something very English, like Lily. She could hear David now, singing to the baby. 

We’ll drink the drink the drink, to Lily the pink the pink the pink, the leader of the human ray-hey-ace. 

He would bounce that baby up and down, and the baby would be none the wiser. She couldn’t stand the idea of Lorcan, now a father, toasting his sister, in a couple of Christmases. 

When Lily was older, around four, people would say she was mature for her age. She was a credit to her mummy and daddy. And Helen would still be so young.

One Christmas, Siobhan would be helping in the kitchen. Helen would leave to check on something else, and Lily would find her granny to ask if there was anything she could do.

Yes, leanbh, you could hold this for me.

Lily would always do what her granny said, because her granny’s voice was different to all the other adults. It made her feel nice.   

Siobhan handed over the pan of boiling water. Lily struggled. It was so heavy for her, but she was determined. She lost her balance with it, and the water splashed out onto her white hands. Lily dropped the water all over herself, then dropped herself onto the laminate floor, squirming around like a fishy on a little dishy. 

They would live with Helen’s parents first, but eventually they would need to find their own place. This was the crux of the conversation. It was Christmas now; the day was happening. Siobhan had sat herself next to David’s mother. They formed a sort of bloc.

Helen’s parents were looking at new builds, and Helen had been looking at flats on Right Move. 

You want a house, Helen’s father explained.

The two of you could move into a flat, and Helen and Lorcan could have next door. That would be an idea. This was Siobhan’s first contribution for a while. It was supposed to be a lighthearted interjection.

For the first time in a long time, Siobhan felt drunk.

Do you talk about names, you two? She was looking at Helen. 

Helen was wearing a red Alice band, which made her look younger than she was. She had finished college and started an office apprenticeship in an office opposite the old wool exchange. 

It’s hard without knowing the gender, Helen said.  

This struck Siobhan as a very sensible answer to her question.

I always knew I wanted Lorcan. The name, I mean. I had a boyfriend called Lorcan at school, in Dublin, and I think I only went out with him because I liked his name. He took me to the Foggy Dew. Not a euphemism, a pub. And I was only sixteen, but he said I looked old enough to get served, and I must have, because we stayed there for hours. And he made me drink Guinness, even though I didn’t want it. He said I had to. But it was nice.

You picked Elsie, Siobhan said, pointing her fork at David, and it took me a while to warm to it. Scottish name. I don’t know if you knew that, David. 

It was a good idea, by the way, the baby. The pregnancy. It’s taken the heat off your sister. All the horrible things that have happened to her, Lorcan, can you imagine? 

She pointed her fork around the table. Like a little ray of light after a long spell of darkness, she said. That was the idea, wasn’t it? Or did the condom split.

It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, being put to bed. She reached across to David’s bedside table and found a blister pack of something. 

She saw a story in the news a while ago about the head of a girls’ school shot dead by her husband. They showed a photo. They were all smiling. Of course you never would have guessed from that photo what he would go on to do, what was bubbling away. 

Elsie had a habit of not smiling in school photos. There was a nice one of her playing Zelda on her Switch, but Siobhan didn’t want to send them a picture of Elsie’s bed. In the end, she chose a photo of her in the garden. It was green and light and she had smiled in that one. 

Both girls eventually admitted that the photos were faked. The fairies were cardboard, or something. But one cousin was adamant that the last photo, the fifth, was real. She couldn’t let it go, not fully, the grooves were too deep. Was it Elsie or Frances? For the life of her. 

She bit her cheeks. There was noise below her. David’s sister was supposed to be showing her face. She might be downstairs right now. Siobhan took her pint glass to the bathroom and filled it with tap water. She drank by the toilet, avoiding the mirror above the cistern. She decided to get out of the house.

Are you okay? she called. He didn’t say anything back, but he showed his face. She hadn’t been able to know for sure until that moment. He’d fallen in the beck. The sound of his knee hitting the rock was enormous. It was the only sound. This man. She also saw the backpack, which was obviously more battered than the last time she’d seen it, but it definitely was the backpack. He’d discarded the puffer, kept the backpack. It was over one shoulder and it looked ridiculous on him. 

There you go, you’re up. He immediately tripped, and Siobhan had to catch him, then support him. Have you been in the wars, mister? It was something she used to say to Lorcan. A graze on his knee: he’s been in the wars. A bash in the eye from football: he’s been in the wars. And this man had been in the wars. His hands were covered in cuts. 

From what she could hear, they were playing a game in the living room. David’s sister had arrived. She had a very distinctive laugh, how you’d imagine a crow might laugh. 

The man was leaning all his weight on Siobhan. Occasionally he would grunt, and Siobhan would pause. You okay there, sweet? 

When they were leaving the woods for the field, she asked if he knew what day it was. 

It’s Christmas. What made you want to take a walk in the water on Christmas, get your feet all wet? 

It was true, the man was not wearing any shoes. We’re coming up to mine now, you’ll be able to rest. It took all her strength not to laugh.

One of the things they had looked for was a garden, and they certainly got that. They bought a trampoline from B&M. Elsie was scared she’d break a bone. Lorcan was never interested. 

That was the only problem with them, Siobhan thought. They never really played together. They barely even argued. If Siobhan was honest with herself, she was pleased when the trampoline went to the tip. 

But the shed remained. It was now mostly a deposit for junk, which was a shame, wasn’t it?

Can you sit there, leanbh, in the corner? He did as he was told. We used to have a chair in here, a little garden chair, but no one used it, so we gave it away. Where do you live? I’m imagining a lookout in the woods.

She wanted to sound like her mother, but she couldn’t get there.

If I went with her, you wouldn’t have taken her. I think it’s important for you to know that. My dad said, he used to say, if someone looks like a wrongun, they probably are. And you do, you know. There was a rake leaning against the window. I’ll be back in a second, you make yourself at home. 

At the Foggy Dew, Lorcan told her about the man he’d seen drowning in the river. It was a story she found difficult to believe. 

Later, when they were crossing the bridge, she looked down into the water. 

They got the bus to Lorcan’s house; his dad worked lates and his mother lived in Carrick with Lorcan’s aunt. 

Siobhan returned to the shed with a steak knife. She rested his head on the backpack and made the incision below his eye. 

The backpack was George from Asda. When David had seen it, he’d argued with her. It had been an actual argument, which Siobhan couldn’t believe. The argument was sexist, and he must have realised this. Elsie had picked out a Spider-Man backpack. 

It’s not appropriate.

Not appropriate?

For school, it’s not appropriate for school.

Lorcan had a Harry Potter one. Because she’s a girl, you don’t want her liking Spider-Man. That’s backwards.

It’s not for school. 

She remembered going upstairs to bed, and that night David slept on the settee in the living room. 

Elsie carried on with that backpack until the end of Year 8, at which point Siobhan told her that it wasn’t right for Year 9.

Why?

It’s a kids’ one, El’, it’s not for Year 9.

What if I want to keep it? 

You can keep it but not take it to school. And after that, Elsie made a point of wearing it everywhere. If they went on holiday, it was there with her. 

They’d gone to Anglesey one August bank holiday. On the beach at Newborough, she’d worn it all day, until Siobhan had snapped and taken it off her. She walked to the car and threw it in the boot. She was sweating.

I have no real plan here, sweet, but you tell me if you need to stop at any point. She lay a choppy finger on his skinny lip. I’ll cut out your tongue soon if you don’t tell me what’s happened.