The Lost Sister

I remember the silence that settled over the party when Sheila came into the living room with a policewoman. The policewoman’s mouth seemed full of glass when she tried to explain why a squad car was waiting outside to bring me home. I remember the room swaying. Jeremy tried to catch me before I fell. My head banged off the edge of the table. I don’t remember any pain. My new trainers struck out in front of me. Funny thing to remember, my heels clamped together, forcing my toes into a V. I don’t remember being lifted to my feet, but someone must have done so because I know I could never have managed to stand on my own. And I remember the whispering that started when the policewoman took my arm and led me away from the party. Jeremy came with me but I don’t remember anything he said to me, or if the policewoman spoke to either of us.

Lights were burning in the windows of Heron Cove. Doors were open. Neighbours were clustered in huddles in the hall and the kitchen. I remember their faces, Lydia’s tears. Julie’s screams as she broke free from Paul’s arms and ran towards me. And I remember thinking, as we held each other, that our lives had changed utterly and for ever.

Chapter Six

Havenswalk–January 2009

The attic in Havenswalk is reached by a spiral staircase. A handy place for dumping broken furniture that has some possibility of being repaired but is inevitably forgotten once the door closes. Next year, Cathy plans to convert the attic into a dance studio but, for now, it is a repository for all the bric-a-brac she and Alma have acquired and abandoned since they moved to New Zealand.

She switches on the light and browses for an hour among boxes and crates, sifts through account ledgers and old books that release the fusty smell of neglected papers. She stops to examine some clothes and toys belonging to Conor, items she decided to save for the memories they evoke. The silence is uneasy. She suspects unseen creatures lurking in the eaves and crannies, but only the spiders ignore her intrusion and continue spinning in gauzy corners.

The edge of the moon shifts from her gaze as she moves the broken frame of an awning to one side. It is heavy and almost topples over. She prevents it falling and waking everyone. Underneath it, she finds a wicker picnic basket. The weave is broken in places. Snapped reeds jut outwards and cobwebs trail like a shiver across her fingers when she snaps open the rusting lock. Her letters to Nirvana. Carefully she lifts them out. They are tied together with an elastic band that breaks with an exhausted snap when she stretches it.

She hesitates, undecided. Does she really want to delve into the past and relive those fragmented years when hormones, confusion and unresolved heartache formed their own convulsive mix? Never look back, Rebecca used to say. Nothing but dust around corners.

The date on the first letters startles her. Was she only eight years old when she wrote it? She always imagined she was older, probably about ten. The early ones were written on notepaper with delicate border drawings, Edwardian ladies with parasols and lacy, ruffled collars. A writing set, she remembers, given to her by Lydia Mulvaney as a starter present. Write to your mother, Lydia said, and when you are sleeping she will read your letters. Angels fly at midnight. Their first stop is home.

Cathy smiles, remembering how the image of hovering angels had comforted her and how, when the fancy notepaper ran out, she wrote on the torn-out pages of copybooks and refill pads, writing by torch light at night when the house was quiet, secret hours under a duvet tent.

If she read the letters before contacting Rebecca her courage would have failed her. Yet the die has been cast by now, Conor at her heels, demanding…ring them now…now…

Her sisters are on their way. She is still amazed that Rebecca changed her mind. Amazed and frightened and relieved in equal measure. She rang her sisters seeking closure but how that closure is to be achieved is impossible to tell. Cathy tries not to panic. Has she made the worst mistake of her life–or is this the beginning of healing, the closing of a wound that has festered for far too long? She sinks to a cast-off settee and begins to read.

Chapter Seven

Letters to Nirvana

Meadow Lark

Wicklow

19 August 1985

Dear Mammy,

How are you and Daddy today? We are having a nice holiday in Meadow Lark with the Morans. We call them Auntie Olive and Uncle Steve. They have lots of rooms and no kids, only horses. Uncle Steve taut us to ride a pony called Zorbo. Lauren is afrayd to go on him. When Uncle Steve lift her up she cry and cry. But she wont fall and brake her legs again. A pony is not a car. Auntie Olive brothe her and me to the shops for froks and socks and nickers and jeans and tops and shoes. She wont let Nero sleep on the bed with Becks. No hairs on the dubay or dog pee smell in her posh house. Becks is cross as a bare because Nero has to sleep in a shed and he barks all night. Julie hates it here. She hates living in the sticks and she hates the staybell smells and not being with Paul. Auntie Olive is a teecher. She has big glasses like a owl eyes. She makes me rite lesons and spell proper. I love Zorbo. I will rite more tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXX to you and Daddy

Cathy

Heron Cove

21 August 1985

Dear Mammy,

We are home again and Becks is cross as a bare. The row was bad. Uncle Steve gave out lots to her about Lauren. No one knew I was outside the door. Auntie Olive said its right he worry. She want to mind Lauren in Meadow Lark and help her kope with being a orpan. Becks said no way ho-say. She told Uncle Steve to shove his opinins up his bum and called Auntie Olive a inturfearing old cow. Auntie Olive keep hugging Lauren at the train station and saying poor pet poor pet and Lauren was like a swan with a hangy neck. She wants to live in Meadow Lark and ware nice froks. Becks said we have to call them Mr and Mrs Moran because they are not real family. Mrs Moran was Mammy’s pal when they were little girls but Becks says she is a spy like the woman with the black case. Julie is glad to be home as well. She wants to start the band again but Becks said no way ho-say neybours will talk.

I miss you so much it makes me sick. Tell Daddy I miss him as well as you. I will rite more tomorrow. I love Zorbo.

XXXXXXXXX to you and Daddy

Cathy

26 December 1985

Dear Mammy,

Xmas Day is over. The only thing that made me cry was the Xmas songs at mass and Lauren hating the ballet book I gave her for her present. Kevin gave me sope on a rope and I gave him a Star Wars annual. The Morans called with lots of presents. We have to furgive and furget and they will not take Lauren away only for holidays. I got a pair of jeans. Becks got a really posh food mixer. Julie got a tiket for a rock concert and Lauren got a golden frock with a frill. Gramps gave us money and was drunk. The best the very best present was from Becks. Remember when I told you about finding your hair brush in the dressing table with your hair still in it and how she took it from me because I was doing her head in with crying? She gave me a love heart locket with your hair inside it and photos of you and Daddy. She is the best, the very very best. After dinner we went for a walk. All the waves were white. The wind made my skin sore. We saw the heron. Then we saw Jeremy with Rose More. Rebecca said don’t look don’t look see if I give a hoot and stuck her nose up in the air when we walk past. Julie called him a bad word. I wont write it down. It begins with W. We fed the swans. The heron flew away. Becks cried when we came home. I thought she was mad about Jeremy not hanging around greef but it was about the food mixer. She kept pointing at it and saying my life has come to this, a f…ing food mixer.

My jeans a perfect fit.

Love to you and Daddy

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cathy

Heron Cove

15 Jan 1986

Dear Mammy,

A year has gone. I keep thinking if I open your coffins I’ll see you laughing like it is a big joke. We had a mass for your annaversorry. Fr Morris said your names out loud and made it reel again. Lauren made a big fuss and ran out of the church. She said she can not run but she can and Mr Moran brote her back in his arms. She is still a zombi but not so much now. Last night she said F…off and mind your bisness when I ask her if you and Daddy said goodbye. She is spoiled rotton and she made you dead. We all went to the balley concert and saw her dancing like a sugar plum fairy. So why did she make you and Daddy go 2 times? Why why why? She is a show off thats why. Becks said I must never never never say that to Lauren or she will cut out my tung. Me and Julie sleep in your room now. Lauren sleep on her own. So do Becks with Nero. It’s nice being in your bed, like I can touch you. Daddy’s gitar is still against the wall. Julie tuned it and we put it back there again. His jacket is in the wardrobe. I can’t smell him, only mothballs and lether, but I rub my hands really hard on the lether and that feels nice. All your books are in the shelfs. There’s so many. The Colour Purple has a book mark in it. My favoritt authors are Judy Blume and Enid Blyton. Julie said a year is gone and Maxeemum Volum must be a band again. She is a brill singer. Paul is brill on drums. They sit on the wall and kiss and kiss. Becks said its not on. Neybours will talk. We all had a birthday since you die. Julie is 15 and Lauren 13 and Becks is 18 and I am 9. Gramps comes for our birthdays. He smells bad like the farm is on his skin and he gives Becks money for bread on the table.

Make him stop crying. It makes me cry to and Beck said we have to move on. I don’t want to move. I like our house. The red dots are gone. I will rite more tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXX to you and Daddy

Cathy

Chapter Eight

Rebecca’s Journal–1986

Thank goodness for spring. There’s green shoots in the ground and the forsythia will soon bud. I thought we’d never get through the year but we did…we did. The mass was nice, the church packed and it’s good to know people remember them. I felt a hypocrite having the mass when I don’t believe in God or any religion that forces us to accept there is a divine plan to anything. But I can’t let on. What’s the sense in saying there’s nothing left except bone and memory when Cathy believes she’s writing to an angel and Julie’s convinced she’ll meet them in heaven?

To lose so much in a year…it’s too much…too much…but it’s nice to stand in the garden and look at the green shoots. They promise so much. Unlike Jeremy, they’ll deliver.

He’s still with Rose Moore. Do I care? No way, José. Julie calls him a ‘wanker’ and Cathy sneaks her hand into mine and squeezes it when his name is mentioned. Their pity unhinges me. Even Lauren came out of her shell for a while after he broke off with me.

Jeremy is not a wanker. He just doesn’t know how to deal with it all. I can’t blame him. I don’t want to sit in every night either, but I’m too tired to go out and, when I do, I’m worried about Julie being in charge, knowing she’s alone with Paul, and Lauren’s locked somewhere deep inside herself and Cathy’s probably crying or writing those letters, and if I get plastered, like my friends, I won’t be able to get up in the morning, and that’ll be the very time Mary Green calls and writes her notes and makes me so nervous I want to sit on my hands to keep them from shaking.

On the positive side, my driving is improving. Lydia’s a good teacher and doesn’t get worried when I can’t engage the clutch and the traffic builds up behind us. She’s going to help me paint the rooms. But not yet…not just yet. Little steps, she says. Everything can be done in little steps. She started art classes after her husband died. She said it started as therapy and became her grand obsession. Her paintings are strange and weird, ruins of abandoned cottages in the middle of nowhere. She calls them ‘famine echoes’. If women could work and rear children in such a hostile environment, she says the least she can do is follow their footsteps and record what is left of their existence. Her paintings look similar; crumbling walls almost invisible under ivy, weeds growing like spun sugar from chimney breasts. It’s her use of light and shade that makes the difference.

Gramps is beginning to pull himself together. His cheque arrived on time this week. He’s promised to stop drinking and come with me and Lydia to the inquest. I dread it…and the court case. It’s like the anniversary mass. Another stepping stone that walks them further away from us. Life moves on…tick tock tick…and a year has passed.

Chapter Nine

Letters to Nirvana

13 August 1986

Dear Mammy,

I have sad news. That is why I did not write for 3 days. Gramps is dead. I cried for ages at his funral and Im crying writing this. Mrs Mulvaney said we cry for all sorts of different reasons at funrals. At Gramps funral lots of things came back to me. I thought I was going to be sick. He is glad to be dead. He said so to Becks after the court. Do you think that killed him? He went with her and Mrs Mulvaney to find out how you and Daddy died. Why? We know why. A big lorry, that is why. The lorry driver said he was very sorry. His family hugged him when the judge said he wouldn’t go to jail because of the rain making the road slippy. Becks hates his guts. So do I. I don’t want to write any more tonight.

XXXXXXXXX to you and Daddy

Cathy

22 September 1986

Dear Mammy,

Today was nice. We cleaned out Gramp’s cottage, what a mess. Whisky bottles everywhere and mice droppings in the presses. UGG! UGG! Tell him thanks for the money. Becks said it is for our edukayshon. Julie wants to spend it on ecuipment for the band. Maxeemum Volum are going to tour when they are famous and they need a image. She wont do her Leaving exam. Becks said no way ho-say you do it or I’ll lock you in your room and throw away the key.

Lauren would’nt help clean Gramps cottage. She sat in the car with her walkman on and told me to F…Off when I asked if she wanted to see your bike in the barn. I only asked!! It was covered in cobwebs. I closed my eyes and I could see you riding the road and the wind blowing your dress. Lauren is in a rotten mood again. Remember the last photo Daddy took on the night we all went to her ballet show? Daddy timed the camera so he could get into it too? Well, she broke the glass and screamed at me to stop putting flowers in front of it. I’m never going to speak to her again!!

She didn’t want to go to secondderry school because people would laugh at her limp and call her a spa. She has no limp. Only when she’s tired and tries to do her ballet. Mrs Moran took her to Arnotts for her new school uniform and they went to a posh hotel for tea.

I have to write to Mrs Moran every week. She sends back my letters with red marks. I hate her. I only want to write to you and tell you all.

I will write again soon.

Love to you and Daddy and Gramps

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cathy

15 January 1987

Dear Mammy,

I can’t believe you are dead 2 years today. We planted lavender on your grave and put fresh flowers on the spot where you died. Becks wants to put a cross there but the council said it’s not on and would be a distracshin for drivers.

The garden is all weeds now. Its Julies job to keep the grass cut but she is a lazy lump and calls Becks a commonist dictater. She told her a fib about playing with Maximum Volume at a concert for cancer. Kevin said it was in a pub where men look up girl’s legs and buy kondoms. My lips are zealed. Maximum Volume are my favorite band, next to Adam Ant. Me and Kevin listen to the band when they pratis in the garden shed. Sebby Morris is lead guitar. Do you remember him from around the corner? He is the biggest poser ever and shakes his head when he plays guitar like there are bees in his ears. He keeps pointing his guitar at Julie and making kissing mouths when Paul is not looking.

Love to you and Daddy and Gramps

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cathy

10 July 1987

Dear Mammy,

Today was nice. We had a picnic in Gramp’s river field. It belongs to Becks now. A woman called Lulu May rents it from Becks and keeps horses there. She made us tea in the cottage and brought it out to the picnic and sat with us. The sun was shining. Julie blew the seeds from dandylion clocks and said Seb…Paul…Seb…Paul. All the last seeds said Paul…Paul…Paul. I’m glad because Sebby Morris keeps talking about going to Austrailya and Julie says she’ll go with him. Paul says he’s all hot air and gets mad jelous if he even looks at Julie. Please don’t let her go away.

Lulu’s horses waded across the river to see us. They nussled Beck’s cheeks like they loved her too. I’m really glad she didn’t sell the field to Mr Moran for his ticky tacky houses.

Please make every day like today.

Love to you and Daddy and Gramps

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cathy

25 August 1987

Dear Mammy,

What a week! Julie failed the Leaving. Too much snogging on the sofa with Paul ha ha. Mr Moran says failing was on the cards from the beginning and the same will happen to me and Lauren if Becks doesn’t keep a tighter rein on us. The row about the Leaving was bad. I wish Becks would stop bossing us around. I wish Julie would stop driving her nuts. I wish Lauren would smile and talk to me. I don’t want to go to the Morans with her. Julie won’t go, no way ho-say, and Rebecca says she needs a break so me and Lauren we have to go on our own to Meadow Lark.

Love to you and Daddy and Gramps

Cathy

1 November 1987

Dear Mammy,

Sad news. All the bangers killed Nero. Becks found him in the kitchen this morning stiff. We had a funeral in the garden and she made a cross for his grave and read a poem about a dog being a woman’s best friend. She cried worse than at your funeral.

Love to you, Daddy, Gramps and Nero

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cathy

Chapter Ten

Rebecca’s Journal–1987

They use a language I can’t decode. Even Lauren with her lost eyes is part of it. Silent and subtle, implicate in the twist of a lip, the lift of an eyebrow, the flash of their eyes meeting. Even the way they hold their shoulders sends out signals that can change their mood, avert an argument, turn a serious discussion into a joke from which I always feel excluded. I can’t remember when I first noticed that it had become Me and Them…Us and Her. I know why they resent me. I’m to blame for trying to replace the irreplaceable…but what is there to do?

Julie escapes into her music. There’s been complaints from the neighbours about the noise from the garden shed but she yawns and sighs and heaves her shoulders when I try and talk to her. I hear my voice, shrill, bad-tempered, bossy, and find it hard to recognise myself. I hate what they’ve turned me into. Lydia is the only one who understands.

I never thought I’d have anything in common with a woman in her forties but she’s been a brick. I talked to her about Jeremy and how he never bothered phoning to tell me he was moving to New York. I had to hear it from Sheila. Rose Moore looked terrible when I saw her in Malahide Village last week. I probably looked the same after he dumped me. I told her it would pass but she took it the wrong way and said she was the one who dumped him and good riddance. She’s such a liar.

Chapter Eleven

Letters to Nirvana

15 January 1988

Dear Mummy,

It’s three years now. Me and Kevin visited your grave this evening. The gates were closed but there was a hole in the wall and we could slide in real easy. We met a Goth there called Melancholia Barnes. She’s two years older than me and is in First Year with Kevin. Now she’s my friend as well. I thought Goth was all about sucking blood and pet bats but Melancholia says it’s just about people who want to be different to the masses. She’s actually called Melanie but she hates her name and thinks Mel is for bimbos. We went back to my house and had popcorn and watched The Addams Family on telly.

She can talk to the dead. Kevin can’t but he believes you can smell dead people. His father is dead longer than you so he knows best. Mr Mulvaney had a bad heart and was cramated but Kevin can not smell ashes only roses, like the ones his father used to grow in the garden.

I got a glass from the kitchen and we put our fingers on the edge of it. Melancholia told us to close our eyes. She said spirit of the glass speak to us speak to us. We had to press hard on the edge of the glass and it wobbled when it tried to give us a message. I wanted to talk to you and Daddy and Kevin wanted to talk to his father. Becks came into the room when the glass was wobbling and gave out like mad. She believes it’s dangerous to meddle with something we don’t understand. How can it be wrong to talk to the dead? She is such a pain.

Love to you, Daddy, Gramps Gaynor and Nero,

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cathy

15 May 1988

Dear Mummy,

I have to tell you something. I’m getting little boobs and I’ve hair down that place. It’s scary and I’m afraid to tell Becks in case it’s weird. Lauren is four years older and she has no boobs yet. Soon I’ll look like Julie. That’s scary. She said Cross Your Heart is the best kind of bra. Becks says she’s too busy to notice if she’s got boobs or not. She has. I saw her standing in front of the mirror in her room one night. She had no clothes on. She thought I was sleeping and was mad as a bear when she saw me at the door. She put on her nightdress and asked me what I was staring at. Who cares?

Paul and Julie are fighting. Not so much snogging on the sofa any more. She is supposed to be studying hard for her Leaving Repeats but all she cares about is the band. Paul says Maximum Volume can’t go touring until he’s finished college.

Love to you, Daddy, Gramps Gaynor and Nero.

XXXXX

Cathy

30 October 1988

Dear Mum,

Me and Kevin held a séance in Melancholia’s house tonight. Did you hear us? Did we cause a vibration in heaven? Rebecca would go nuts if she knew. We lit candles and sat in a circle. Melancholia asked the ouija board to spell out your name and it did. Rachel. I couldn’t believe it. Kevin accused her of moving the indicator but I know she didn’t ’cause I was watching real close. Then it spelled Jerry. It should have been Gerry but it was near enough. Kevin asked the board to spell his father’s name and laughed like mad when it spelled John instead of Kenneth. But 2 out of 3 is not bad. Do you think the séance was for real? It must be. I never told Melancholia your names so she couldn’t have been guessing.

Becks thinks she’s a bad influence and I should have friends my own age. I wish she’d stop trying to run my life for me. Melancholia has tattoos. One on her butt, one on her breast and two on her arms. She said it doesn’t hurt a bit. Becks would freak if I dared get one but Leah (that’s Melancholia’s mum) didn’t mind a bit. It’s hard to believe she’s a mother. She looks like Melancholia’s older sister except her hair is blonde and she wears ra-ra skirts with sparkles. She looks younger than Becks. Julie is still giving out about college. You’d think she’d be glad she got her Repeat Leaving but she hates computer studies and having to sit in front of a computer when all she wants to do is sing for her fans. Becks says computers are the future and to stop complaining and do what she’s told for a change.

Love to Dad and all,

Cathy

Chapter Twelve

Letters to Nirvana

1 Jan 1989

Dear Mum,

What a start to the new year. Julie and Paul are all off!! She keeps looking at Sebby Morris like he’s a king or something and says she’s in love for real. So what was Paul? A dress rehearcell? I feel really sorry for him. I saw him walking in the castle grounds last night and he looked wild with his beard but it’s not a proper one, more like he can’t be bothered shaving and he doesn’t show up much for band practice. Her and Paul have been together yonks and she doesn’t give a toss that she’s broken his heart. She’s such a bitch and I hate sharing with her ’cause all she talks about is going away with Sebby Morris.