He thinks I look like Kate Bush. I adore Kate Bush. I love how she sings my name Cat-he-ah…Cat-he-ah…but what I love most is the way Jeremy says my name. Catriona. I’ve always been Cathy since I can remember but he says I’m too precious to be an abbreviation. That’s what he says. Too precious to be an abbreviation. God! It’s time I went to sleep. Rebecca would go nuts if she knew what I was thinking. Thank God we have skin on our skulls to keep our thoughts from escaping.
Love,
Catriona
10 August 1991
Dear Mum,
I need to tell you something. It’s not bad or anything but I know Rebecca would be mad if she knew. I met Jeremy outside his office today. It wasn’t on purpose. I just wanted to find out where he works. I didn’t expect him to come out and see me. He brought me to a café on Baggot Street. It was very crowded yet it seemed like we were the only two people there. I was shaking so much I was sure he’d notice but he just talked about the awful ads he has to make, like the ones for toilet cleaners and constipation. He made a brilliant one about a woman sky-diving on the Curse days. I’ve seen it loads of times. When she falls from the sky laughing her head off and her arms out like a bird you’d never think she gets tummy cramp or be frightened blood will show on her dress. He said I’m growing into a beautiful young lady. No one ever said that to me before, only to Lauren. He’s going to be my brother-in-law. Every time I think about it my eyes sting as if someone blew smoke into them. God! It’s time I went to sleep. I hate being like this, my skin shivery every time I imagine them together.
I didn’t tell her about meeting him. I was afraid she would get mad and say I was looking for attention again. I wasn’t!
I found your copy of Wuthering Heights. It’s brilliant and cruel and so sad. I keep thinking about death and how it really messes up life for those still living. I hated and loved Heathcliff. I only loved him because he loved Cathy so much that it made everything else he did seem not so bad…almost.
X
Catriona
10 September 1991
Dear Mum,
Rebecca wants her bridesmaids in russet red. Julie thinks polka dots would be very original. Lauren wants us to wear ice-blue. They argue and wave bits of material at each other. My opinion is not sought. Who wants black at a wedding?
He’s going to move into our house when they get married. Rebecca’s going back to college as a mature student to be a vet like she’d started doing when you died. After she’s qualified, she’s going to run the animal sanctuary on Gramps’ field with Lulu. Her dreams are no longer ash. They’re all coming true.
I wish I was her. I can’t tell anyone except you. Even Melancholia wouldn’t understand.
Catriona
2 December 1991
Dear Mum,
You and Dad would be proud of Lauren. Her first book of poems was launched tonight. It’s called Silverfish. She’s dedicated her book to you and Dad. Mr Moran made a speech and said she’s a new young voice dealing with difficult issues. My throat went really tight when she read the Silverfish poem. It’s awful. Sad and weird and very Lauren.
I know what silverfish are. They look like commas and sometimes I see them flicking in the dark. Lauren’s wrists have healed up but I still see the marks, like she’s drawn little squiggles on her skin.
Jeremy sat next to me. He must have known my thoughts because he said, stop frowning Catriona, you’ll ruin your beautiful face. His knee hit mine under the table and his smile went deep into my eyes when he whispered Oops! Sorry, Catriona. I love how he says my name…Catriona…Catriona…Cat-rio-na…like it’s a beautiful sound in a love song.
Afterwards Mr Moran brought us for a meal to the Shelbourne Hotel. He knew everyone and kept introducing Lauren as his poetic protégée. Mrs Moran said she should stop depending on them for everything. But she said it so quiet that only me and Rebecca heard her. She’s such a bitch!
Love you,
Catriona
Chapter Seventeen
Rebecca’s Journal–1991
She couldn’t believe I’d collected her poems. I tried to persuade her to submit them to a proper publishing house but she refused. Afraid of failure, afraid of everything. Steve Moran took over. Vanity publishing. A big launch. What did it mean in the end? Another crutch.
Silverfish
In the moon skidding hours
I collect silverfish
Somersaulting silverfish
Disco dancing silverfish
Flick flash
Across the ash
And embers dead
Of hearth and home
Sliding in and sliding out
In chink and eave
In weft and weave
Snug in a rug
Smug bugs
In crevices that bleed the night.
Hurry scurry
Playing hide but do not seek us.
Silver scales
Flick flash
Slick slash
Dancing lancing silverfish
Thrashing, slashing twitch-blade runners.
Chapter Eighteen
Letters to Nirvana
15 January 1992
Mother,
Seven years…did you ever exist??????? Where should I address these pathetic letters? Heaven…Paradise…Nirvana…Cloud Nine? Where are you?
Cathy
9 June 1992
Dear Mum,
It’s over. He is now my brother-in-law. Rebecca walked up the aisle on Mr Moran’s arm. The way she smiled when she said, I Do, made me think about the nice times and how she loved me before you died. I kept remembering and remembering and it made me cry. We wore ice-blue with a shimmer when it caught the light. In every wedding photograph we’re smiling fit to burst a gut. Mr Moran made the Father of the Bride speech. Mrs Moran drank too much. Her mouth slid sideways when she was asked to lift her glass in a toast to the bridesmaids and she stayed sitting when everyone else stood up and shouted, To the beautiful bridesmaids.
Jeremy danced with me. His fingers pressed into the small of my back. He said I looked beautiful in blue and that I’d emerged from a chrysalis. I went into the Ladies and stared at myself in the full-length mirror. An ice-blue butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. Flying from a dark place, afraid of my reflection.
X
Catriona
22 August 1992
Dear Mum,
I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it but I have. Jeremy eats muesli and croissants for breakfast. He put photographs of his best ads in frames all over the hall. I sleep with cotton wool in my ears and squeeze my eyes tight so that I won’t think about them in the next room. But I do…I do…In the morning I pretend not to notice when they touch every time they pass each other. I pretend not to hear when they giggle over stupid things I don’t understand. Rebecca looks so young again. A student now, jeans and a ponytail.
I’m