tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322482592012-02-17T01:17:55.944ZIreland 2003. Michael Collins wouldn't recognize the place. This is a serialized novel, so you might want to start with the first post.herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.comBlogger101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-6664705938747837462007-01-20T23:27:00.000Z2007-01-20T23:30:28.817Z

Mary decided against Wicklow Town, and instead headed north by way of Avoca and Rathdrum in search of a chemist she’d never stopped in to that would have pregnancy tests on display, and there was no chance that a customer would know her. She could not at all be pregnant. It had been weeks since she had seen that fecker Ted. She’d had that horrific period the night the sister arrived. She

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-53801612179213116302007-01-20T23:25:00.000Z2007-01-20T23:27:15.748Z

“He’s very good, your boy.” Finnbarr’s words were clear but his head was turned, so Mary suspected she’d imagined it. The child had said naught but single words to her up until now, and wasn’t echolalic as far as she knew. She’d ask Cherry had anyone said those same words in front of Finn about the child. That would be it, that a stranger’d told the mother “He’s very good, your boy,” in

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-47982315228696050952007-01-06T23:07:00.000Z2007-01-06T23:10:32.939Z

The day was not the best for traveling, but Monday was the August bank holiday, so the whole of her weekend would not be spoiled by the overdue visit to her mam. Since her da’s passing, Mary’s visits home were more in demand and equally dreaded. Mary hadn’t minded sitting quietly with her father, stroking his papery hand, but now that he was gone, her mother was not content to sit quietly with

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-50162739971691139982006-12-30T21:15:00.000Z2006-12-30T21:21:29.929Z

Her text would be: Abc 441/1 Feck ye ye feck Options Clear Not a word from him for a week, not until the sister and the other were gone but neither had she’d one for him. His first text was: What’s up? Options Back She didn’t reply. The next: My sister's left. I’ll see

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-1463228563766755492006-12-29T19:12:00.000Z2006-12-29T19:35:46.321Z

Zero of the two scheduled children had arrived at Begnachar so Mary had sat the whole of the afternoon watching Antje look busy. The computer was an ancient model with only floppy drives and a Windows 3.1 platform. The current virus caused a delightful cascade of documents before freezing the screen, so Mary couldn’t write reports or send e mails while she waited for ‘those who would not

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-1160940697542548762006-10-15T20:28:00.000+01:002006-10-15T20:38:05.653+01:00

There wasn’t silence on the drive, at least on Eilis’s part. She chirped and warbled along as they headed south. Eilis was off to see a specialist who, she feared, would tell her she needed to go to London again. Eilis’s sidelong gaze as she spoke registered the shadow that flickered across Mary’s face at the word “again.” It was enough to tell Eilis that Mary had not known about the previous

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-1158963916068625012006-09-22T23:19:00.000+01:002006-09-22T23:25:16.083+01:00

BREEZES Mary woke to morning light and the sound of the shades chattering against the open windows. Rising to stop the noise and the breeze, she cast her mind back to her last bout of sleep-walking. The open windows signified it had started again, as she could not abide a breeze across her face when she slept. Another reason to lock the door after her each night. She’d never unlocked a door

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-1155933088811841112006-08-18T21:19:00.000+01:002006-09-15T14:55:30.320+01:00

Mary pushed her slides under the hall bench and fingered up her mail before she headed up the unlit stairway to her room in the semi-d. The dusky lanolin smell of lamb mixed with cumin and onion and garlic cobwebbed before her, so the kitchen sink was sure to be choc-a-bloc with pans and plates waxed with grease and slippery, translucent slivers of onion. Mary hadn't drunk so much that the smell

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-1155411451033103622006-08-12T20:21:00.000+01:002006-10-19T22:44:50.020+01:00

A car coughed to a stop outside. It was Cherry, not the gran, who brought the boy. Through the window, Mary saw the two of them fumble from the car, then drift toward the door like two magpie feathers caught in an updraft. The boy did not resemble his mother in any other way, but their being in the world was of the same density and flow and rhythm. “There is nothing wrong with Finn, you

herselfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09658269979840779516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32248259.post-1154813057000863712006-08-05T22:12:00.000+01:002006-08-15T20:39:17.933+01:00

Ballinamun Clinic The whole lot of them were cranking of cramps today, even the old crone. J, but did she have to moan in Mary’s direction, expecting sympathy from Mary of all people? You’d think she’d be humiliated at her age that something came dripping from out between those purply, veiny pegs. And Mary, she hadn’t passed ten words with aul Eilis in the dozen months they’d worked

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