A Greyhound of a Girl (18 page)

“Care for a swim, Emer?” said Tansey.

“Ah, no,” said Emer. “Enough is enough. I was never mad about the water. Just the smell of it I always liked.”

She coughed again, for quite a while.

“I can't swim, sure,” she told Tansey. “I never could.”

“It's never too late to learn,” said Tansey.

“Ah, it is,” said Emer. “And I'm not interested in swimming. But that, now—”

She pointed back at the amusements arcade, the Golden Nugget, behind them.

“That was only brilliant.”

“What was?” said Tansey.

“All the stuff in that place,” said Emer. “The one-armed bandits and penny-rolling machine, and the machine that told
your fortune, even though it was only a cod. The noise and the lights. Scarlett loved it too. D'you remember, Scarlett?”

“Yes!”

“Pity it's shut.”

“We could wait for it to open.”

“No,” said Emer. “It's fine. We'll go in a minute.”

“All right.”

Emer pressed her mother's hand.

“Is dying a bit like that?” she asked, very quietly—she didn't want to upset Mary. “The afterlife and the rest of it. Is it noise and whirring lights?”

“It's nothing to be frightened of,” said Tansey. “Do you understand me?”

Emer looked at Tansey.

“Yes,” she said. “I think I do.”

They cuddled up together. And, beside them, Mary and Scarlett cuddled up together too.

Tansey spoke, to all of them.

“We'll never be far away, you know,” she said. “Even when you can't see us anymore.”

Scarlett had started to cry. Tansey leaned across and put her arm around her.

“When you want to see your mother, look at your own
face in the mirror,” she said. “Or look at your Mary's face. Or Mary's daughter's face. Emer will be in there. You'll see. And so will I. And so will you. And so will Mary.”

They were all crying again. But it was fine—it was nice.

It was great.

“I don't have a daughter,” said Mary—she wiped her eyes and nose.

They started laughing. So did Mary.
I don't have a daughter
. It was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

“You will someday,” said Tansey. “Or you might.”

“That's weird too,” said Mary. “I'm not being cheeky.”

“I want to go back to the hospital now,” said Emer.

And that made them cry even more.

“Would you like to come home with us, Mammy?” Scarlett asked.

“Are you talking to me, Scarlett?” said Emer.

“Yes,” said Scarlett. “Of course.”

“It's a bit confusing,” said Emer. “There are three mammies sitting in a row here.”

“Well, you're the mammy I was talking to,” said Scarlett. “Would you like to come home with me and Mary?”

“I'd love to,” said Emer. “But no. I think I'm better off back in the hospital.”

“Oh, Mammy.”

“I'm grand, I'm grand. And I've had a lovely time. I met my mother—imagine.”

She laughed—and coughed.

It was getting colder—or it seemed to be.

“I'd love an ice cream, though,” said Emer. “A cone.”

“Oh.”

“Me too,” said Mary.

“It's four in the morning,” said Scarlett.

“I can help there,” said Tansey. “I'll get the ice creams. There's a shop back across with a big cone outside it. That'll be the place for the ice creams.”

“You can go through the door!”

“I can.”

“Cool.”

“But,” said Scarlett, “how will you pay?”

“You'll give me the money and I'll leave it there, beside the ice cream machine. It'll fill their day when they come and open the shop, and us back in Dublin. ‘Who put the money there?' they'll be asking.”

They walked slowly to the car. Tansey went ahead, straight to the shop on the other side of the car park. She stopped in front of the door, shimmered, and disappeared.

“Ohmygod! That's so cool.”

Scarlett and Emer leaned against the car and looked at the sea while Mary waited for Tansey to come back out through the shop door.

But Tansey didn't come through the door. It was still dark, but Mary saw something on the roof of the shop. Four white things came out of the chimney, followed by she saw it now—two hands and two arms, the elbows, and a head and shoulders. It was Tansey and, for a second, she looked like the Statue of Liberty, holding up four white flames instead of one.

“Ohmygod.”

Tansey stepped on to the top of the chimney, then off it, and she glided down the roof. She seemed to slide right down the wall, to the ground. Mary saw her walking toward the car.

“Why did you go that way?” Mary asked.

“I could come back out through the door because, well, I'm not real, I suppose, and that's what I can do. I'm not solid when I don't need to be. But the ice creams are solid, for a few minutes anyway, till they melt. So I couldn't get the ice cream through the door. Only up the chimney.”

“They're not covered in soot, are they?”

“Only my one,” said Tansey. “And I won't be eating it. I only have it to keep you company.”

She handed out the cones, and they sat on the bonnet of the car and looked back at the sea for a while, until Emer was ready to go.

“That was lovely,” said Emer. “Imagine. My mother stole an ice cream for me.”

“I didn't steal it, Emer,” said Tansey.

“Ah, but it's the thought that counts,” said Emer.

y the time they got to the hospital, daylight was pushing the night away. Scarlett parked the car at the front door, just as it started to rain.

There was no one standing outside the hospital. It was like the whole world was still sleeping. Mary liked it. She'd never been up this late—this early—before.

“Come on, Mary!” said Scarlett.

She opened her door and got out.

Mary quickly understood: they were going to leave Tansey and Emer alone together for a little while, before Emer went back in to her bed. She opened her door and ran after Scarlett, to the bus shelter.

They stood there, and listened to the rain tapping the plastic roof.

“It's cold,” said Mary.

“Yes.”

“It's sad.”

“Yes, it is,” said Scarlett. “But it's—I don't know—wonderful too. Isn't it?”

“Yes,” said Mary. “But it's still sad.”

“I know.”

Back in the back of the car, Tansey and Emer said nothing for a while. They looked out at the rain, until there was too much rain and nothing to see.

“They'll get wet,” said Tansey.

“Good enough.”

“Ah, now.”

They laughed, but only a little bit.

“The feel of the rain,” said Emer. “On your skin. You only appreciate that when it's about to be taken off you.”

“Not everything's great, you know,” said Tansey, “just because it's going to stop. You would never eat your turnips. You always said you hated them.”

“And I still do.”

“You won't miss them, so.”

“I will not.”

“See now.”

“But I'll miss hating them.”

“Were you as cranky as this all your life?”

“I was, of course.”

“Good girl.”

They sat quietly for a while. The rain ran down the windows. Then it slowed—it made no sound—and stopped. The early sunlight filled the car.

“Nice and warm now,” said Emer.

“Are you still frightened, Emer?” Tansey asked.

“I am,” said Emer. “A bit. But that's natural, I suppose. Is it?”

“Yes.”

“I'll put it this way,” said Emer. “I'm a little bit frightened, but I'm not really worried anymore. Does that make sense?”

“It makes a lot of sense,” said Tansey.

Mary and Scarlett saw one of the back doors open—the door on Emer's side. They ran over to the car, to help her out. Emer stood, and looked up at the sky.

“That's a grand day now,” she said.

Mary looked into the car. Tansey was still sitting in there.

“Are you not getting out?”

“No,” said Tansey. “I'm grand in here.”

“Oh,” said Mary. “Okay. Will I close the door?”

“Do.”

Mary grabbed the door handle.

“But before you do,” said Tansey. “There's one thing.”

“What?”

“Remember the leaves.”

“Is that all?”

“That'll do,” said Tansey. “Good girl. I'm that proud of you, Mary. Shut the door now.”

Mary closed the door. She had to slam it. She tapped the glass.

“I didn't mean the slam,” she said.

They heard Tansey through the glass.

“You're grand.”

They got the wheelchair out, and went into the hospital. They made their way to the lift, and slowly up to Emer's ward. They helped her take off her coat and dressing gown.

Emer looked very tired.

“I'm ready for the bed,” she said. “I must look like I've been up all night.”

“You, like,
have
been up all night.”

“Well, there you go. Give me a hand here, girls. I'm a greyhound of a girl, but, God, the bed's after growing since I climbed off it last night.”

They helped her climb onto her bed. She lay down, slowly, carefully, and she muttered.

“Good back, nice back, don't give out and crack.”

Her head sank slowly into the pillow.

“We have liftoff.”

Mary sat beside her, up on the bed, and they chatted for a while, with Scarlett sitting on the other side.

“What big eyes you have, Granny.”

“All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

Scarlett wet her finger and dabbed the tip of her mother's nose.

“Now, why in the name of God did you do that?”

“There was a little bit of ice cream there, all dried up!”

“Ice cream?” said Emer. “Oh, yes. Was that tonight?”

Mary pointed at the bright day on the other side of the window.

“Last night,” she said.

“We're wild,” said Emer. “Aren't we, now?”

As she spoke, her eyes closed, and she slept.

Mary and her mother waited, then they slowly slid off the bed. They leaned across and both kissed Emer's forehead.

Then they left.

When they came back out to the car, the hospital was getting busy, and Tansey was gone.

ary woke up. She was in her own bed, at home. The light was off, but the curtains were open. So she could see her mother, and her father, and her brothers, standing beside the bed.