Twigs and plants through the smudged window. Some of them are white as broken bone. Recently, I have been drafting a coming-out speech in my head. The best I can come up with is: ‘Not that my sexuality is any of your business. But I like girls. End of discussion.’ It’s short and to the point, but it would probably end up way more emotional and teary. I get a nervous flutter even considering it. Like if I do, there’ll be no going back. It will be out there.
And the thing is, if I can have such a huge revelation about who I am in such a comparatively short period of time, who is to say I won’t have another one that moves me to a different place again? Maybe I should just say, ‘I am currently identifying as extremely gay, but in the future I may be open to other suggestions. End of discussion. P.S. Magic is real, so the salt stays under your beds.’
I look at Lon’s face at lunchtime, searching for danger. Knowing Catlin doesn’t want me there. I need to tell Brian about this, like Mamó said. And as soon as possible. His reaction will tell me what to do. I think of his conviction that we’re safe here. Because of who his father was, or what. It feels like I am planning to betray her. Because, whatever happens, it will hurt. Lon loves that Catlin loves him. His copper-coloured eyes above her head. When people died in olden times, they used to put coins on their eyelids. To keep them closed. Helen Groarke. Her pale face wasting till she’s earth and bone.
I let myself be ignored for twenty minutes, then I stomp inside.
‘The two of them,’ I say to Charley, and I roll my eyes.
‘I know.’ She smiles. I wonder if she means it, and I squint.
‘Are you OK? You look like you’ve a pain,’ she asks.
I think of Lon, and gesture towards the pub.
‘I might do actually.’
She snorts at this.
‘So, Charley. You never told me the full story about his ex.’
She shrugs. ‘I don’t know it to tell, to be honest …’
‘You must know something about Helen,’ I say, threading some of Mamó’s steel through my voice.
She pales at the mention of her name, crosses herself. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Why?’ I glare at her.
She squares her shoulders at me. ‘Don’t try that stuff on me. It doesn’t work.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I say, filing this away for future reference. ‘Have you ever kissed Lon?’ I ask.
‘Ugh,’ she says. ‘I’d rather eat a knife.’ Her tone gives me a shiver in my gut.
After school, his eyes on her seem kind, although he scares me. Catlin laughs at something that he says, and pucks him in the stomach. ‘You’re as bad.’
Her face alight with love. I see her happy and I hold my tongue.
One of us should get to be OK.
A normal girl.
29
Dog’s Tooth Violet
The morning light is bleaching through the garden, making green things grey and red things bright. I’m swollen up with worry about Catlin. I can’t stop scrolling through the things I’ve seen, making them turn sinister in my mind. Lon’s eyes on me, expressionless before they flicker back to Catlin’s form. His large hand snaking all around her hands. The tips of her fingers barely meet the first bend of his knuckle.
I stare too much at Lon, I realise. Taking him in. Do I read menace into innocence? Maybe she did fall over. She’s never lied to me before, not about important things like that. She knows I love her and will protect her. Something in this place has hurt my sister. No matter how much I want her to be fine, she isn’t fine.
I slip on my black boots, a jumper over my pyjama top, and pad down the stairs, trying to keep as silent as possible. Channelling a fox. Or something that doesn’t get noticed right away. A hedgehog maybe. Or a little badger.
I think of roadkill, swallow down the dread. I have been getting up earlier in the mornings to go out to the greenhouse and look at the plants. There is a sort of tension in the air that won’t relent. I pick off one of the thorny yokes that stuck to me on the walk through the garden. I crush it in my fist until it hurts and then I blink and blink and blink again. Squeeze my eyelids tight and harsh together. Scan for something. Writing on a wall. Familiar smell.
There’s something lost here, that I need to find.
When Catlin loses something, she prays to Saint Anthony. I don’t believe in saints, but there is something to this panic in my stomach. Back in Cork, Mam had a friend who died. It was cancer, but she always wondered if gaps the husband tore had let it in. Life doesn’t work that way, I told her then. I do not know that now. My certainty is gone. There’s magic in the world. And it’s more dangerous than I could have known.
I think of Catlin, trying to please Lon. I think of his arm around her. His mouth on hers in front of other boys. The egg-shaped bruise. Holding her back from hugging me that night, his knuckles white with tension on her shoulder. I think of his big hands clutching the back of her head when they kiss. I think of skulls. Of Bridget, Helen, Nora and Amanda. A girl can so easily turn into a ghost.
If something were to happen to Catlin … If he were to hurt her … I would never forgive myself.
On my way back to the castle, I catch sight of Mamó. She’s with the raven, digging up what looks like delph and meat, placing chunks and chips in a little jam jar full of water.
I stare at her until she turns to me.
‘Mamó,’ I say.
‘Madeline,’ she says.
‘Caw,’ says the raven.
Of course it does.
I glare at her.
She glares back.
Hers is better.
We both have work to do. Just different work. Time to get to it.
Brian’s car is in the driveway – he must have come back late last night. I find him in his office, sending emails. He looks tired; there are bags under his eyes. His hair is grey in parts and thin up top.
‘Madeline.’ His voice is glad to see me. I plonk two cups of tea down on his desk. He passes me two coasters.
‘Thank you, love. You’re up early.’
‘I was out in the garden.’
He sighs. ‘Trouble sleeping?
‘I wanted …’ I start but then get worried. I don’t want to put more on anyone than they can take. And he looks really stressed. ‘I didn’t want to bother you, but …’
His face turns serious. ‘Madeline Hayes, I’m here for you. Spit it out. I’ll see what I can do.’
I exhale slowly, then breathe in again.
‘Oh, Brian. It’s Catlin.’
‘All right.’ His voice is neutral. ‘Tell me more.’
‘She’s been seeing this older boy, and I don’t like him and I’ve heard some things.’
He doesn’t even pause. ‘Lon Delacroix,’ he says.
‘That’s the one.’
A long, long sigh from Brian. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘We’ll nip that in the bud.’
‘What’s wrong with Lon?’ I ask.
‘Nothing you could put your finger on.’ Brian looks beyond me, over my shoulder at the door frame. ‘There was something with a girl before. Helen. Allegations were made, and then the whole thing escalated. I don’t want him next nor near you girls.’
‘Helen Groarke,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ Brian says. My stomach jolts. Either he lied to her, or she to me.
‘Do you think he had anything to do with it? What happened.’ I cannot keep the shiver from my voice.
‘No one could prove anything,’ Brian tells me, with another heavy sigh. ‘But there was a suspicion. And that’s enough, more than enough, to nip whatever this is in the bud.’