Page 68 of Merrily Ever After
“Dancing,” I say.
“There’s no music.”
“I’m not at the music stage yet.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. She sounds wary. Like she thinks I’m lying to her but knows I can’t be. I don’t lie. “Mam says you’re to come in,” she adds. “Dinner’s ready.”
“All right.”
“You can’t stare at your feet when you dance like that.”
“I know. I’m not—”
“At the non-stare-at-your-feet stage yet?” She gives me a final look and disappears, running back up to the house. I glance down at the dirt and muck on the floor. At the clear swipes where I’ve been practicing my movements; then I rub them out with the sweeping brush.
Inside the house, the smell of roast meat hits me, making my mouth water as I wash my hands in the cloakroom before hurrying to the kitchen.
“Turn the radiooff,” Mam says as Rachel pouts. “Did you do your homework?”
“Almost done,” she says, carrying the plates to the table. “Where’s Dad?”
“With your Aunt Kathleen. Her hip’s been plaguing her, and that new radiator of hers isn’t working again. He’s getting someone out to take a look at it tomorrow afternoon. Sean, you’ll help, won’t you? You know how your father gets.”
I hesitate. I’ve never said no when I’ve been asked to help before. But tomorrow is Friday. And Friday is …
Rachel’s eyes flick to me before going back to her dinner. “But we’re going to the disco.”
“You can go with your friends,” Mam says. “Just this once, anyway.”
“No, Sean has to go, too.”
I stare at her. Mam stares at her. Both of us confused. Though unlike her, I know what my sister is trying to do. I just don’t understand why she’s doing it. Rachel’s default position is to tease me at every opportunity, so I’m instantly suspicious.
“He keeps the lads from crowding me,” she insists at the silence. “I’m very popular.” And then, as if to make doubly sure I’m following, kicks me sharply under the table.Speak,she mouths, when Mam looks my way.
“I’m grand to take Rachel,” I say, clearing my throat. “I can pop in on Saturday and see Aunty Kathleen after I see Mrs Fallon.”
Mam looks skeptical. “You’re spending a lot of time up there. You’re not bothering her, are you?”
“She just needs a bit of help around the house.”
“Well, isn’t that a novel idea,” Mam grumbles, shooting Rachel a look as my sister shoves a potato into her mouth.
*
I should have known that wouldn’t be the last of it. Rachel’s busy with her history essay for the rest of the evening, but we’re barely two steps out of the house the next morning when she starts on me.
“Well?” she asks. “Who is she?”
“Who’s who?” I ask as she skips ahead. She’s always moving. Like she’d die if someone forced her to sit still.
“The girl that you like.”
I frown at the back of her head and don’t answer.
“You never went to the discos,” she continues, unbothered by my silence. “And when Mam forced you to take me, you used to stand in the corner and make me go home as soon as it was nine. Then, all of a sudden, you wanted to stay as long as possible. Even though you still don’t dance or talk to anyone. So who is it? Who do you like?”
“Shouldn’t you be spending more time talking to your friends than keeping an eye on me?”
