seeing as we’re so near by…” She tails off. “I know you’re a bit old for the zoo, Green Bean, but it’ll be fun. I’ll drop Ryan off in town first. He has to study.”
I say nothing for a moment, and then I sit back in my seat and stare out the window. “OK,” I say eventually. “The zoo it is.” If Clover really wants to go, then I’ll go. It’s no big deal. And it’s time I put my zoo demons to rest.
I was nine, nearly ten, the last time I went. Mum and Dad wanted to take me somewhere special for lunch, my choice; they had something to tell me. So I said I’d like to go to the zoo. I hadn’t been for years and it always reminded me of family days out, in the old days when Mum and Dad still smiled at each other occasionally.
So off we trooped, Mum and Dad in the front, me in the back, silent the whole way to Phoenix Park, home of Dublin Zoo. By the time we got there it was grey and drizzling. I don’t know what I’d expected: that Mum and Dad would miraculously start talking to each other just because we were surrounded by all these cool animals.
Well, it didn’t happen. We had only got as far as the tigers before Dad’s mobile rang. He walked off, saying he had to take the call. Mum stared after him, her eyes flat and dead.
“Great timing,” she muttered. Then she said, “Whatever happens, remember how much we both love you, Amy.” There were tears in her eyes.
I remember thinking someone was dying. Gramps maybe. Gran had died three months previously and Gramps hadn’t been the same since, according to Mum.
But it wasn’t Gramps that was dying, it was their marriage. Later, we sat outside a fake African hut in the African Plains, eating burgers and chips and watching the little black and white striped “train” that took you on a tour of all the African animals. It was really just rickety carriages pulled along by a glorified tractor. Not a train at all. Fake.
I listened as Mum told me how she and Dad didn’t love each other any more, that they had decided to live apart. I’d be living with her and spending every second weekend with Dad. As she spoke, I felt like I was on a cloud looking down at myself. The words went in but I couldn’t concentrate on their meaning. But I knew instantly my life would never be the same again. Sophie’s parents had divorced when she was five and her mum is still bitter about it, even now.
Dad didn’t say much. He just held the back of my chair as Mum spoke to me. I found out afterwards that he’d been seeing Shelly for ages; they’d met in the bank. She was his secretary, what a cliché! But Mum said I wasn’t to blame Shelly. They would have broken up anyway; they hadn’t been happy for a long time.
I knew it was nothing to do with me, but I still felt guilty. Maybe if I’d made a bigger effort to keep my room clean and gone to bed when Mum had asked me to, she wouldn’t have been so tired all the time and Dad wouldn’t have taken up with Shelly. But when I said this to Mum afterwards she just cried and said, “It’s nothing to do with you, pet. It’s just something that happens to grown-ups sometimes.”
I grew up pretty quickly that year. So you can see why I wasn’t exactly waving pompoms like a cheerleader at Clover’s choice of venue. But she wasn’t to know; I’d never told her about it.
We’re standing in the monkey house, me and Clover, when her mobile rings.
“I’ll be back in a second, Beanie,” she says and walks outside.
I watch a baby chimp waddling around in his nappy through the reinforced glass. I know it’s a “he” because there’s a sign taped to the wall. W ELCOME B ABY L IAM, BORN ON 12 A PRIL . He’s so tiny he trips over his own little feet and I want to pick him up and give him a hug. He reminds me of Evie. I watch as his monkey mum strokes his head gently and gives him a little push. She turns her head and looks at me. Then she puts her leathery hand against the glass. It looks like one of
I say nothing for a moment, and then I sit back in my seat and stare out the window. “OK,” I say eventually. “The zoo it is.” If Clover really wants to go, then I’ll go. It’s no big deal. And it’s time I put my zoo demons to rest.
I was nine, nearly ten, the last time I went. Mum and Dad wanted to take me somewhere special for lunch, my choice; they had something to tell me. So I said I’d like to go to the zoo. I hadn’t been for years and it always reminded me of family days out, in the old days when Mum and Dad still smiled at each other occasionally.
So off we trooped, Mum and Dad in the front, me in the back, silent the whole way to Phoenix Park, home of Dublin Zoo. By the time we got there it was grey and drizzling. I don’t know what I’d expected: that Mum and Dad would miraculously start talking to each other just because we were surrounded by all these cool animals.
Well, it didn’t happen. We had only got as far as the tigers before Dad’s mobile rang. He walked off, saying he had to take the call. Mum stared after him, her eyes flat and dead.
“Great timing,” she muttered. Then she said, “Whatever happens, remember how much we both love you, Amy.” There were tears in her eyes.
I remember thinking someone was dying. Gramps maybe. Gran had died three months previously and Gramps hadn’t been the same since, according to Mum.
But it wasn’t Gramps that was dying, it was their marriage. Later, we sat outside a fake African hut in the African Plains, eating burgers and chips and watching the little black and white striped “train” that took you on a tour of all the African animals. It was really just rickety carriages pulled along by a glorified tractor. Not a train at all. Fake.
I listened as Mum told me how she and Dad didn’t love each other any more, that they had decided to live apart. I’d be living with her and spending every second weekend with Dad. As she spoke, I felt like I was on a cloud looking down at myself. The words went in but I couldn’t concentrate on their meaning. But I knew instantly my life would never be the same again. Sophie’s parents had divorced when she was five and her mum is still bitter about it, even now.
Dad didn’t say much. He just held the back of my chair as Mum spoke to me. I found out afterwards that he’d been seeing Shelly for ages; they’d met in the bank. She was his secretary, what a cliché! But Mum said I wasn’t to blame Shelly. They would have broken up anyway; they hadn’t been happy for a long time.
I knew it was nothing to do with me, but I still felt guilty. Maybe if I’d made a bigger effort to keep my room clean and gone to bed when Mum had asked me to, she wouldn’t have been so tired all the time and Dad wouldn’t have taken up with Shelly. But when I said this to Mum afterwards she just cried and said, “It’s nothing to do with you, pet. It’s just something that happens to grown-ups sometimes.”
I grew up pretty quickly that year. So you can see why I wasn’t exactly waving pompoms like a cheerleader at Clover’s choice of venue. But she wasn’t to know; I’d never told her about it.
We’re standing in the monkey house, me and Clover, when her mobile rings.
“I’ll be back in a second, Beanie,” she says and walks outside.
I watch a baby chimp waddling around in his nappy through the reinforced glass. I know it’s a “he” because there’s a sign taped to the wall. W ELCOME B ABY L IAM, BORN ON 12 A PRIL . He’s so tiny he trips over his own little feet and I want to pick him up and give him a hug. He reminds me of Evie. I watch as his monkey mum strokes his head gently and gives him a little push. She turns her head and looks at me. Then she puts her leathery hand against the glass. It looks like one of
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