Part 11 (1/2)

'On holiday with his missus,' Gerry explains to me, like I know who Charlie is, but I should, he too is in the photograph, a member of the Electric Slags.

'Peter pa.s.sed away last year,' the Marble Cat says.

'Liver cancer,' Gerry says.

'Shut up, you it was the bowel,' Spud corrects him, elbowing him in the ribs, which makes Gerry spill his drink and they go at it again.

'Lads, lads,' the Marble Cat tries to calm them.

'I preferred it when you two weren't talking,' Jimmy says.

I smile.

'So you're his daughter?' Jimmy asks. 'Well, it's a pleasure to meet you.'

'She says his name was Fergus,' Gerry says excitedly, as though Dad's name was the most exotic he's ever heard. 'I told ye, lads. I always knew it. Something didn't add up with our boy. Spud always said he was a spy, better not to ask him questions in case we got killed.'

They laugh, apart from Jimmy, and Spud who looks at me in all seriousness. 'I did. Was he a spy? I bet you he was.'

They try to quieten him and it turns into a debate: remember the time he did this, remember the time he said that, until they finally shush and look at me.

I shake my head. 'He did a few different things ... mostly sales.' I try to think of everything about him, to prove that I know him. 'He started in meat, then later mobile phones, mortgages ...' My voice sounds as though it's coming from very far away, I don't even trust my knowledge any more. Did Dad do any of those jobs or were they all lies?

'Oh yeah, travelling salesman, I heard that before,' Spud says, and they shush him like he's a child.

'His last job was as a car salesman. My husband bought a car from him,' I say pathetically, proving to myself that Dad was in fact something that he said he was.

Gerry laughs, hits a stunned and disappointed Spud in the chest. 'You should see your face,' he laughs.

'I could have sworn he was a spy,' Spud continues. 'He was so cagey. His right hand wouldn't know what his left hand was doing.'

'Come on now,' Jimmy says softly, and they realise I'm here, and this is new to me, and they pipe down.

'When's the last time you saw him?' I ask.

They look at each other for the answer.

'A few months ago,' Gerry says.

'It wasn't,' Spud snaps. 'Don't be listening to him, he can't remember what he had for breakfast. It was more than that. Over a year ago. With that woman.'

My heart beats faster.

'So in love. Jaysus,' Spud shakes his head. 'He never introduced us to a soul in all the years and then all of a sudden he shows up with a woman. Blonde. What was her name?'

'German,' Gerry says.

'Yeah, but what was her name?'

'And Irish,' Gerry continues. 'Funny accent. Funny woman.' He tries to think. 'You must know her?'

'I don't.' I clear my throat.

'It was Cat,' Jimmy says.

They all agree on that.

Cat?

'But she could be using a different name too, for all we know,' Spud says. 'She could be a spy. German one.'

They all tell him to shut up.

'Why Hamish?' the Marble Cat asks me, leaning in intently. 'Why did he call himself Hamish O'Neill if his name was Fergus Boggs?'

I search my mind but there's nothing that links to that name. 'I have absolutely no idea.'

Silence.

'I only found out yesterday that he ever played marbles.'

'Mother of divine!' Gerry says. 'So you didn't know about us? The Electric Slags? He never talked about us?'

I shake my head.

They look at each other in surprise and I feel like apologising on his behalf. I know how they feel. Were they not important enough to him?

'Well, maybe you're right about one hand not knowing what the other hand was doing, Spud.'

'Did you say I'm right, Gerry? Jaysus! And I've witnesses and all.'

'So where is he?' Gerry asks. 'It's been a year and none of us have heard from him. Can't say we're too happy with him about that.'

'How is he?' Jimmy asks quietly.

Breathe.

'He suffered a stroke last year which affected his movement and memory. He's been in hospital under full-term care since then. We didn't realise that it had affected his memory as hugely as I think it did now, but recently I've discovered some things about my dad that I never knew, like the marbles, and I'm quite sure he doesn't remember ever playing them. Obviously I don't know everything about his life to know what he remembers or not, that much is quite clear ...' I try to control my voice. 'He had, has, a lot of secrets, I don't know what he's keeping a secret and what is a lost memory.'

Jimmy looks sad. They all do.

'I can't imagine Hami- your da, not knowing about marbles. They were his whole life,' Gerry says.

I swallow. Then what was I?

'Not his whole life,' Jimmy corrects him. 'We don't know about the rest of his life.'

'Well we never b.l.o.o.d.y knew. But I figured the rest of his life at least knew about us,' Gerry says, annoyed.

'You would think,' I say, agreeing with him, sounding a little more snappy than I intend.