it will spoil if she doesn’t get here soon.
It’s more of a dinner than his dad usually serves – as if the promise of having a woman in the house encourages him to make it feel more like a home.
This summer, I’ll get you properly trained, his dad says. About the farm.
Maybe we could look into a qualification, Liam says.
I can teach you. There’s no need to go . . .
OK. Yes. That’d be grand.
Róisín is going to the farm for dinner, like she said she would; her mum is going out with Neil again, and it’ll be a good idea to give them space. She doesn’t mind about Neil. In fact she likes him, likes having him around, and that surprises her. She’s not jealous that her mum has found someone new; it makes her feel free. Recently she’s started calling her mum Adele to show how grown up she is – she wants to feel like they are equals.
When she walks across the field she opens her arms wide and imagines a world so big, so full of people, she would never tire of exploring it, her eyes fixed on the sky above until she slips on some sheep droppings, only just managing to catch her fall. Liam’s always telling her the ground is just as important as the sky.
Liam looks up to see Róisín peering through the glass in the door. She is waving. She is smiling. When she walks into the kitchen it’s as if the lights have been switched on – she kisses his dad on the cheekin a way that makes his father grin and pat her on the back; she turns on the radio and music, voices, stutter through the static then settle in the air, and she winks at Liam. His family comes alive again.
Thanks for coming, he says, and although it’s delivered with a casual smile he means it more than he can say.
Róisín takes a sip of her drink. She’s nervous, though trying not to show it – tonight, after dinner, she has to tell Liam that she is going away.
At dinner, Adele has gone quiet because she knows what it feels like to wait for a man to break bad news. When Róisín’s father left he didn’t sneak away in the night or drive off after a fight, he took her out for dinner to tell her he was going. And now a new man is avoiding her eyes and struggling with where to rest his hands, looking relieved when the waitress comes by because it gives him something to say.
Neil orders red wine and, when it arrives, he sips it in a way that barely reduces the volume in the glass. Then he tells Adele that his son has been diagnosed with autism. His ex-wife says she can’t cope. She has found a boarding home that specialises; she wants to send him away; his heart is breaking.
This is not a man who is leaving; this is a man asking for help.
Move in with me, she says. Both of you.
She puts her hand over his hand. It creates a new family.
Over dinner they focus on talking to Liam’s dad, don’t say too much to each other; they both understand caution. It has been this way for several years now. They are scared to act like cousins, because then they would be acting like they were close, and they have to hide how close they really are.
Liam accidentally brushes Róisín’s hand when he’s passing her the mashed potatoes. He immediately apologises.
The want he feels makes his face burn.
Amo, amas, amat.
His dad doesn’t notice.
When the dark starts to seep in through the window in the back door Liam stands, plates clatter into the sink, his dad wishes Róisín a good night, and then they are alone. She knows that it has to be now. She turns the radio off.
Something about this makes Liam’s throat dry.
No, now. I can’t wait, he says.
He speaks through breath that is fast and hard, like a man’s, not shallow like a boy’s.
We have to wait. Just till the light’s off.
They always used to wait till Liam’s dad’s light was off; it seemed the right thing to do.
No.
Róisín knows that she has changed things, and she’s not sure if they’ll be able to go back. She never intended her leaving to be a betrayal. Is this what
It’s more of a dinner than his dad usually serves – as if the promise of having a woman in the house encourages him to make it feel more like a home.
This summer, I’ll get you properly trained, his dad says. About the farm.
Maybe we could look into a qualification, Liam says.
I can teach you. There’s no need to go . . .
OK. Yes. That’d be grand.
Róisín is going to the farm for dinner, like she said she would; her mum is going out with Neil again, and it’ll be a good idea to give them space. She doesn’t mind about Neil. In fact she likes him, likes having him around, and that surprises her. She’s not jealous that her mum has found someone new; it makes her feel free. Recently she’s started calling her mum Adele to show how grown up she is – she wants to feel like they are equals.
When she walks across the field she opens her arms wide and imagines a world so big, so full of people, she would never tire of exploring it, her eyes fixed on the sky above until she slips on some sheep droppings, only just managing to catch her fall. Liam’s always telling her the ground is just as important as the sky.
Liam looks up to see Róisín peering through the glass in the door. She is waving. She is smiling. When she walks into the kitchen it’s as if the lights have been switched on – she kisses his dad on the cheekin a way that makes his father grin and pat her on the back; she turns on the radio and music, voices, stutter through the static then settle in the air, and she winks at Liam. His family comes alive again.
Thanks for coming, he says, and although it’s delivered with a casual smile he means it more than he can say.
Róisín takes a sip of her drink. She’s nervous, though trying not to show it – tonight, after dinner, she has to tell Liam that she is going away.
At dinner, Adele has gone quiet because she knows what it feels like to wait for a man to break bad news. When Róisín’s father left he didn’t sneak away in the night or drive off after a fight, he took her out for dinner to tell her he was going. And now a new man is avoiding her eyes and struggling with where to rest his hands, looking relieved when the waitress comes by because it gives him something to say.
Neil orders red wine and, when it arrives, he sips it in a way that barely reduces the volume in the glass. Then he tells Adele that his son has been diagnosed with autism. His ex-wife says she can’t cope. She has found a boarding home that specialises; she wants to send him away; his heart is breaking.
This is not a man who is leaving; this is a man asking for help.
Move in with me, she says. Both of you.
She puts her hand over his hand. It creates a new family.
Over dinner they focus on talking to Liam’s dad, don’t say too much to each other; they both understand caution. It has been this way for several years now. They are scared to act like cousins, because then they would be acting like they were close, and they have to hide how close they really are.
Liam accidentally brushes Róisín’s hand when he’s passing her the mashed potatoes. He immediately apologises.
The want he feels makes his face burn.
Amo, amas, amat.
His dad doesn’t notice.
When the dark starts to seep in through the window in the back door Liam stands, plates clatter into the sink, his dad wishes Róisín a good night, and then they are alone. She knows that it has to be now. She turns the radio off.
Something about this makes Liam’s throat dry.
No, now. I can’t wait, he says.
He speaks through breath that is fast and hard, like a man’s, not shallow like a boy’s.
We have to wait. Just till the light’s off.
They always used to wait till Liam’s dad’s light was off; it seemed the right thing to do.
No.
Róisín knows that she has changed things, and she’s not sure if they’ll be able to go back. She never intended her leaving to be a betrayal. Is this what
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