‘That’s the first time that telly’s been off in our house, Dervla, for twenty-eight years, apart from three days in 1994 when we held a wake for one of my ladies, Kathleen,’ says Marie.
‘That were a prolonged period of mourning,’ replies Vernon. ‘I missed a week of Corrie and I didn’t even properly know Kathleen.’
‘You had enough of the telly, Vernon?’ I ask.
‘Oh no, love, it just needs rebooting.’
Vernon fettles with the remote control, then presses it into action. A look of relief crosses his face when the screen springs back to life again. He settles back into position, leaning his head against the vast leather sofa.
‘When you die, Vernon, we could just have you stuffed and leave you sitting there. Marie wouldn’t even notice,’ I say.
‘Well, make sure you put the remote in me hand, like this.’
He holds his right arm out in front of him to mimic the position, thumb poised over the control and stares, blank faced, straight ahead of him.
‘I only married him for a bet,’ says Marie. ‘My mate said she’d give me a tenner if I could ger ‘im to take me home. I only did it for a laugh.’
‘You’re not laughing now are you?’ I say.
‘Twenty-eight years,’ Vernon says, giving Marie a loving glance.
Later, I gave her my mobile phone, and she texted Tommy about the book.
‘Looking forward to reading it,’ he replies. ‘I want you to remember, Marie, that I never stopped thinking about you. I’ve never stopped loving you both.’
My mum had been right – there was enough love to go around. We were a funny family alright – but maybe not so different from other people’s.
*
From my windows at home, the view is of a forest – immature saplings struggling to reach the light, shaded by the more mature, taller trees. Above ground each stand alone, but my thoughts travel to underneath the soil where the roots that give the trees their vital nourishment entwine together. Below the surface, unseen, it is their conjoined root systems that sustain strength and growth, and extend amazing distances.
Through my ten years of travelling with uncertainty, shifting places and emotions, a wonderful family of strays and relations is now gathered around me. Finally, I have my roots. And I know that their strength and scope is truly astonishing.
Acknowledgements
Thank you Frances and Alison for Bootcamp, Jane and Jill for sorting out the initial muddle, Rosie Lowe and all at Matador, and all at Silver Crow.
To Malcolm, Jackie, Christine, Carla and Cazzy, thank you for keeping me going.
Joffre White, thank you for answering a lot of questions, you also make the best coffee.
Many thanks to the Wednesday Writers – Mary, Sue, Liz, Wendy, Alphonse, specifically Brenda Bannister. I’m grateful for all your help, but especially Gill Harry, for your endless support and because you understood why it was so important.
My grateful thanks, Will, for your kindness, and for sorting everything out; Sasha, for your patience and for making me laugh; and Sugar for joining me – everything is always more fun with you.
But most importantly, thank you, Mum, for not minding.
Strays and Relations Page 19