Showing posts with label Week 20. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Week 20. Show all posts

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Week 20 - Andrew - Twist in the tale.



My sister is missing.


I am in Atlanta airport, sitting at the bar of a Starbucks in the Food court. I have a lukewarm pint of coffee, and my mother is on the phone. I’m conscious that if she keeps talking, I’m going to have to charge my phone so that it will last me the rest of the journey.


It has always been like this. My sister will slip away, out of my mother’s sight, and Mam will think she’s missing. There will be phone calls. Long phone calls, while my mother goes over her full day’s movements, the times she has last seen my sister.


My sister, Cait, will re-appear a day or two later, hungover, in strange clothes. She never talks about where she goes. She just walks into the kitchen, and makes two cups of tea, Mam will cry and scream, and ask why she does this to her. Cait never says anything. She just puts one of the cups of tea in front of Mam, and drinks her own.


Cait lives at home. She works irregular shifts in a garden centre. She runs in the mornings, buys fruit from the greengrocer near my parents house, then sits online for the day. We don’t look like brother and sister. She is tanned and sinewy, an elaborate tattoo of flowers and birds climbing up one arm. I run to fat, permanently pale, with deep, blue bags under my eyes. She doesn’t smile, except at animals and babies. I’ve been told i giggle like a schoolgirl.


I know she’s ok. In the cold war, the Americans kept one aeroplane permanently in the air, over Thule in Greenland. This plane circled one specific radar station. The Russians couldn’t mount an attack without first destroying this radar station. If it looked like war, the Americans would get on the radio. If the plane was still in the air, and radar station was in its usual spot, then they held off on armageddon. The plane was called the Thule Monitor.


Genevieve is my Thule Monitor. Genevieve is a stuffed cat, a ragged baby toy. There are the traces of scorchmarks on Genevieve’s leg. While Genevieve is still in the house, I’m confident that we’re at most 48 hours away from more tea & hysterics. When Cait leaves for good, and she will, herself and Genevieve will walk out the door together.


Today is not that day - the first thing I asked Mam to do was to check her room, and to describe her desk. Genevieve is in her usual spot. Right now, I’m only worrying about the battery on my phone, and how to while away the next three hours in Atlanta.


*     *     *     *     *


Cait came into our lives with a silver twinkle in a pure blue sky. Dad had taken myself and Mam to Ardgillan park for a picnic. I remember this in colours. There was a field, glossy green grass - out to the horizon. Dad, in his grey t-shirt and jeans, was kicking the white ball.


We were on our own, the three of us. Then there was that glint in the sky. Dad was teaching me about airlines. He asked me what it was. I saw the red tail, and the white body - Qantas! He laughed, and rubbed my head - asked me where it was from. I knew Qantas were from Australia.


Dad kept watching the plane. I kicked the ball to him, but he wasn’t looking at it. The plane was getting bigger. There wasn’t any noise, either - there normally is with jets. The plane looked like it was turning. It was very low.


Dad picked me up. He grabbed me underneath my arms, so fast it hurt. Then he started running, and shouting at Mam. He was telling her to run, and he was running. He forgot the ball - I kept trying to tell him, but he kept running. He ran until he found a little stream, in a ditch. He threw me into the ditch, and jumped in with me. He pulled Mam into the ditch as well. I kept trying to look up, but he kept holding me in the ditch.


My feet were wet, and I looked up. The Qantas plane was so close. It flew right over our hiding place. Then it crashed, and there was a huge noise, and it started to get very hot. Dad pushed mam and I down, into the water. He told me to keep my head out of the water, but to keep everything else in the water. He said he was going to see if anyone needed help. Mam tried to stop him, but he told her to mind me.


It got dark, with all the smoke. Dad was gone for a long time. He came back, wild-eyed and covered in black. he jumped in the stream, and splashed water on his face, kissed me on th head, and ran back. When he came back the second time, he had a baby with him, crying and holding onto a raggedy, scorched stuffed cat. He was covered in blood. He handed her to Mam, and ran back over the ditch. He said there were more.


There weren’t. We waited. Hours later, the firemen found the three of us. They pulled us out of the ditch. They gave us blankets, and sat us in an Ambulance. No one asked us our names. We walked past rows of bodies. Mam started shouting about Dad. They found his body. He had managed to get into the cabin. He was killed when one of the fuel tanks exploded. Mam screamed when she heard that.


While we were waiting in the ditch, the baby dropped the raggedy stuffed cat. I held onto it. That night, when Cait was asleep in our house for the first time, I put it on the pillow beside her.

While the plane stays in the air and while Genevieve is still in her usual spot, we can hold off on armageddon.

Week 20 - Laura - Twist in the tale

A follow-on from this piece.

Three hours later, everyone from this morning’s meeting except Mr Kennedy was in Noni’s front hall. Sure enough, buoyed up by a hearty lunch in Fagan’s, the rest of the O’Haras had asked for my help with dear old Noni’s posthumous crossword. Or “this ridiculous farce” as they chose to describe it.

Gina, Noni’s only living sister; Gina’s children Bertie, Martha and John; Noni’s late brother Alfred’s children Peg and Suzanne and her long-dead twin Patrick’s own twins Maggie and Sean all jostled for space around the Muckross House painting I’d already told them I suspected as the crossword’s first solution and the holder of the next clue.

Birdie and Faye were more relaxed, having elected to sit in the adjoining sitting room in the familiar chairs they claimed as their own on Monday evening visits for as long as I can remember.

Determined for the O’Haras to get to know Noni better, even now, I recounted all I could remember of her Killarney escapades before looking for the next clue. “She was always a flibbertigibbert,” Gina, who I’m convinced was never in love in her life despite having clocked up 44 years of marriage before her husband Bert cashed in his chips, tutted.

“Oh but she was a ticket,” Birdie exclaimed. “She’d have done the same in her later years too,” Faye added, knowing full well Noni’s fuddy-duddy relatives were all but physically covering their ears to stop them having to hear more of Noni’s youthful escapades. “She used to say there’d be no stopping her if it wasn’t for her dodgy hips.”

Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to warm the ‘good will hunters’ to Noni with this particular tale, I carefully took her treasured painting down and set it against the wall she’d had painted bright red last year, in one of her last acts of rebellion. Sure enough, scribbled in chalk on the wall behind the painting was the next clue: “Twist in the tale (8)”.

“That could be said of lots of Noni’s stories,” Faye cackled. With no real memories of her to go on, Gina, Bertie, Martha, John, Peg, Suzanne, Maggie and Sean looked at least as puzzled as they had when Mr Kennedy had read out this morning’s inaugural clue.

Unsure myself, I decided to think logically - “the best way to approach crosswords, but often a boring way to lead life”, Noni used to say. “Twist in the tale,” I mused. “That usually means an unexpected ending, but that’s far too many letters to be the solution. ‘Curveball’ doesn’t work either, and ‘unanticipated’ is far too long.”

“It’s ‘surprise’,” Birdie, a fellow crossword fiend, called in. “It has to be, and I think I know just the story Noni was thinking of too.”

Curious now, everyone piled into the front room.

“Did Noni ever tell you about the time she met Princess Diana?,” Birdie asked the room. “She never did!,” a green with envy Gina burst out. “No way!,” Peg added, admiration already melting her aloofness.

“Well she did,” Birdie continued, casually pretending not to notice what her question had done to the atmosphere in the room.

“It was back years ago now, when she lived over in London. She was doing a line with that Duke at the time - I forget his name, but it doesn’t matter. Anyway, he brought her to that Royal Ascot race and they were hanging out with all the fancy folk. Of course Noni was at least their equal. She was never affected by people’s station in life. She looked sensational. She often showed me pictures of the day, and oh, her outfit - I can’t describe how gorgeous it was. She’d made her own headpiece to go with it, naturally, having become known for that over there.

"Anyway, it was late in the afternoon when she was in the toilet no less that she bumped into Princess Di herself. In a right state, Noni said the princess was. You’d never think it’d happen to a royal, but hadn’t her hem come undone and she was mortified. What did Noni do but take a needle and thread out of her handbag and fix it there and then for her! Noni said she’d have done it for the waitress that served their drinks on the day just the same - and you know she would have done too - but that the princess was as grateful or more than anyone would have been. ‘Forever in her debt,’ she told me the princess said. Being the ticket she was Noni told her not to say that, just in case she looked for something outrageous in return as thanks.

“Anyway, Noni forgot about it, well as much as you can forget about doing a bit of stitching for someone like that, but about a month later she got this darling little sewing set in the post. All jewels it was on the outside, and on the inside it was engraved with Forever in your debt, your friend in need, D. I think she ordered a couple of headpieces from her after too.”

“You are having a laugh,” an incredulous Martha said.

“She’s not,” I replied. “And what’s more, I know where that sewing kit is and I bet it’s where our next clue is too.”

“I swear there’s about twice as much enthusiasm knocking around than there was at the start of this game,” I heard Birdie whisper to Faye as we all decamped to the room Noni called her workroom right up to her death.

“She’s right too,” I thought, pleased that the O'Haras might finally be starting to enjoy getting to know Noni properly.