Part 19 (1/2)

'And he belched the entire happy birthday song on Duncan's birthday?'

I laugh this time.

'See? That's better. We can't forget things like that, Fergus, okay?' he says, full of intensity like he really means it, and I nod, very serious indeed. 'We have to remember Da the way he was, when he was happy, the good things he did, and not ... not anything else.'

Hamish was the one who found Da hanging from a beam in our barn. He wouldn't tell us exactly what he saw, none of the gory details, and when Angus tried to make him, he punched him in the face and almost broke his nose, so none of us asked again.

'Me and you, we'll remind each other of stuff like that. I don't sleep either most nights, so you and me can talk.'

I like the sound of that, just me and Hamish, having him all to myself.

'It's a deal,' he says. 'Shake on it.' He grabs my hand, my sore one, and I whine and cry out like Aunty Sheila's dog when you step on its paw. 'What the f.u.c.k happened?'

I tell him about Father Murphy and the dark room and I cry again. He's angry about it and puts his arm around my shoulders. I know I won't tell the others this, he would flush my head down the bog if I did that and I like him holding me this way. I don't tell him about me p.i.s.sing myself though. When I came home, I didn't tell anyone about what Father Murphy had done to me. I would have, but Aunty Sheila noticed it and helped clean my hand and bandage it up, and she said not to bother Mammy with it because she's upset enough. Everyone's upset, so I didn't tell anyone else.

'What have you got there?' he asks, as my marbles clink in my other hand.

'They're bloodies,' I say proudly, showing him. I sleep with them that night because I like the feel of them in my hand. 'A nice priest gave them to me when I was in the dark room.'

'For keeps?' Hamish asks, studying them.

'I think so.'

'Bloodies?' he asks.

'Yeah, they're red, like blood,' I explain. I don't know much more about them, but I want to.

'Like you and me,' he says, clinking them around in his hand. 'Blood brothers, bloodies.'

'Yeah.' I grin in the dark.

'You bring them into school with you tomorrow,' he says, giving them back to me and settling down in his sleeping bag again.

Angus tells us to shut the f.u.c.k up and Hamish kicks him in the head, but we're silent until his breathing tells us he's fallen asleep again.

Hamish whispers in my ear: 'Put them bloodies in your pocket tomorrow. Keep them there, don't tell anyone else, none of the lads, or the Brothers will hear and they'll take them from you. And if he locks you in that room again, you'll have them. While everyone's working and getting their heads slapped off them, you'll be in there, playing. Do you hear?'

I nod.

'That thought will help me tomorrow, thinking you're in there having a blast, pulling the wool over their eyes. You can't cross a Boggs,' he says.

I smile.

'And the more they put you in there, the greater you'll be. Fergus Boggs, the best marble player in Ireland, maybe even the whole world. And I'll be your agent. The Boggs Brothers, partners in marble crime.'

I giggle. He does too.

'Sounds good, doesn't it?'

I can tell even he's excited by it.

'Yeah.'

'It'll just be our secret, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Every night you can tell me what you learned.'

'Okay.'

'Promise?'

'I promise, Hamish.'

'Good lad.' He ruffles my hair. 'We'll be okay here,' he says to me. 'Won't we?'

'Yeah, Hamish,' I reply.

He holds my sore hand, gentler this time, and we fall asleep together.

Partners in marble crime. Bloodies forever.

On Monday morning I return to work.

'Good weekend?' Eric asks, studying me, and I know he's a.s.sessing my mental stability after the mug-throwing incident.

'Great, thanks.' I smile. 'Everything is fine.'

'Good,' he says, studying me, blue eyes luminous from his orange fake tan. 'You know I checked that phrase for you. The one about feeling antsy.'