as he worked, uncharacteristically happy. There was definitely something wrong.
After breakfast, Tess and Brian shared the washing-up. Orla sat in the corner of the kitchen wheezing, and reading the book with the deer-man on the cover.
‘Did you ever read this, Tess?’ she asked.
Tess shook her head. ‘We did a lot of that stuff in primary school,’ she said. ‘I’ve forgotten most of it now.’
‘You should read it,’ said Orla. ‘It’s all about the Tuatha de Danaan. ’
The mention of the name of the old gods of Ireland sent one of those electric feelings up Tess’s spine, but before she could analyse it she was distracted by an excited yell from Colm outside. Brian ran to the front door and, when he didn’t come back, Tess and Orla followed.
The source of Colm’s excitement was Kevin, who was just arriving at the yard gate on his bicycle. Colm was there before him and had climbed up to the top bar when Uncle Maurice caught up and gathered him into his arms. It seemed that everyone was converging on Kevin.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Uncle Maurice, setting Colm down and opening the gate. Again his cheerful mood set alarm bells ringing in Tess’s mind.
‘Come in till we get a cup of tea,’ he went on, leading the way into the house. Everyone followed except for the ever dutiful Brian, who was left with the job of closing the heavy gate.
Aunt Deirdre had come in from the garden and the kettle was already on. Kevin sat down at the table or, more accurately, he slumped. Tess was so accustomed to seeing him that she hadn’t noticed the changes in his body, but all of a sudden they had become obvious. He was like a bag of bones, big bones, all loosely connected and not very well coordinated. His feet were enormous and his hands were long, with knuckles everywhere. He seemed acutely embarrassed by this strange body but it would, Tess realised, soon begin to make more sense. The hollows would flesh out and the shambling slackness would turn to smooth strength. Kevin was growing out of being a boy and would soon be a man.
The dawning truth was a shock to Tess. Kevin shifted uncomfortably and she realised that, while the rest of the family had been bustling about getting comfortable, she had been staring at him. She turned away quickly and helped her aunt to get out cups and biscuits. Uncle Maurice was settling himself into a chair opposite Kevin. As Tess poured milk into a jug and set it down on the table he began to speak.
‘Have you done much of it, then? This rat clearance?’
Kevin tapped his fingers on the table and watched them. ‘Not so much, really,’ he said.
‘You wouldn’t be well known, then? Around the place?’
‘No. I wouldn’t be, I suppose.’
Tess set out the cups. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Uncle Maurice nodded, absorbing what Kevin had said. In the brief silence, Colm climbed on to a chair beside Kevin and reached across the table for the best biscuit; the pink wafer.
‘Colm!’ said his mother, in a warning tone.
But if Colm heard her, he made no response. He continued with what he was doing and, to everyone’s surprise, handed the special biscuit to Kevin. His face was as pink as the biscuit, glowing with shy charm. When Kevin shook his head his face clouded over with disappointment.
‘He wants you to have it,’ said Brian. ‘He’ll be disappointed if you don’t.’
Kevin took the biscuit and ate it. Uncle Maurice began again.
‘Where do you live, then?’
‘Dublin,’ said Kevin.
‘On holiday down here, are you?’
‘Sort of,’ said Kevin. Tess made a point of not looking at him, but from the corner of her eye she could see that he was acutely embarrassed by the continued attention of the children. Colm was standing on the chair and gazing into his face with undisguised adoration. At a slightly more respectful distance, Orla and Brian were also staring with admiring expressions. It was clear that, as far as the younger
After breakfast, Tess and Brian shared the washing-up. Orla sat in the corner of the kitchen wheezing, and reading the book with the deer-man on the cover.
‘Did you ever read this, Tess?’ she asked.
Tess shook her head. ‘We did a lot of that stuff in primary school,’ she said. ‘I’ve forgotten most of it now.’
‘You should read it,’ said Orla. ‘It’s all about the Tuatha de Danaan. ’
The mention of the name of the old gods of Ireland sent one of those electric feelings up Tess’s spine, but before she could analyse it she was distracted by an excited yell from Colm outside. Brian ran to the front door and, when he didn’t come back, Tess and Orla followed.
The source of Colm’s excitement was Kevin, who was just arriving at the yard gate on his bicycle. Colm was there before him and had climbed up to the top bar when Uncle Maurice caught up and gathered him into his arms. It seemed that everyone was converging on Kevin.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Uncle Maurice, setting Colm down and opening the gate. Again his cheerful mood set alarm bells ringing in Tess’s mind.
‘Come in till we get a cup of tea,’ he went on, leading the way into the house. Everyone followed except for the ever dutiful Brian, who was left with the job of closing the heavy gate.
Aunt Deirdre had come in from the garden and the kettle was already on. Kevin sat down at the table or, more accurately, he slumped. Tess was so accustomed to seeing him that she hadn’t noticed the changes in his body, but all of a sudden they had become obvious. He was like a bag of bones, big bones, all loosely connected and not very well coordinated. His feet were enormous and his hands were long, with knuckles everywhere. He seemed acutely embarrassed by this strange body but it would, Tess realised, soon begin to make more sense. The hollows would flesh out and the shambling slackness would turn to smooth strength. Kevin was growing out of being a boy and would soon be a man.
The dawning truth was a shock to Tess. Kevin shifted uncomfortably and she realised that, while the rest of the family had been bustling about getting comfortable, she had been staring at him. She turned away quickly and helped her aunt to get out cups and biscuits. Uncle Maurice was settling himself into a chair opposite Kevin. As Tess poured milk into a jug and set it down on the table he began to speak.
‘Have you done much of it, then? This rat clearance?’
Kevin tapped his fingers on the table and watched them. ‘Not so much, really,’ he said.
‘You wouldn’t be well known, then? Around the place?’
‘No. I wouldn’t be, I suppose.’
Tess set out the cups. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Uncle Maurice nodded, absorbing what Kevin had said. In the brief silence, Colm climbed on to a chair beside Kevin and reached across the table for the best biscuit; the pink wafer.
‘Colm!’ said his mother, in a warning tone.
But if Colm heard her, he made no response. He continued with what he was doing and, to everyone’s surprise, handed the special biscuit to Kevin. His face was as pink as the biscuit, glowing with shy charm. When Kevin shook his head his face clouded over with disappointment.
‘He wants you to have it,’ said Brian. ‘He’ll be disappointed if you don’t.’
Kevin took the biscuit and ate it. Uncle Maurice began again.
‘Where do you live, then?’
‘Dublin,’ said Kevin.
‘On holiday down here, are you?’
‘Sort of,’ said Kevin. Tess made a point of not looking at him, but from the corner of her eye she could see that he was acutely embarrassed by the continued attention of the children. Colm was standing on the chair and gazing into his face with undisguised adoration. At a slightly more respectful distance, Orla and Brian were also staring with admiring expressions. It was clear that, as far as the younger
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