Being Emily. Anne Donovan

it, watchin ma da flick through the channels while we were waitin for ER tae come on.

      Janice’ll be a great mother.

      That’s all very well when it’s toty, said ma da. But when it grows aulder it’ll start askin where its daddy is.

      Loads of weans never have a daddy in the first place. Or they have one that’s never around. At least Angela will be there.

      No the same, said ma da.

      Ah know it’s no the same, said Mammy. But there’s different ways of daein things. Janice cannae help how she is.

      Ah kept quiet. Ah was surprised they were havin this conversation in fronty me and ah thought if ah said anything, they might stop. A few month ago they’d never of mentioned sex, even though Mammy had tellt me about it that long ago ah couldnae remember no knowin. And if anythin sexy came on the TV they’d change channels or send me out tae make tea.

      Ah never said she could. Ah just think her and Angela should be discreet, no flauntin it.

      Da, said Patrick. Why should they have tae lie about their relationship?

       Ah never said that, you’re puttin words in ma mouth. There’s a difference between bein discreet and lyin. Ah mean we don’t run round the hoose wi nae claes on, dae we?

      Patrick laughed. We don’t. But some families dae. Willie Slavin’s ma and da have a shower and then walk through the hall wi nothin on.

       How d’you know that?

      Harry tellt me. He was in the hoose wan day when Mrs Slavin walked in the livin room, said ‘ah think ah left ma hairbrush in here,’ picked it up and walked out again, starkers.

      Jeezo. Ah think that proves ma point about discretion, said ma da. Mrs Slavin.

      Could be worse, said Patrick. At least the Flanagans arenae at it.

      Da turnt the volume up. Shoosh. It’s startin.

      AS WE LEFT the chapel Mrs Reilly slipped a sweetie tae the twins like she done every week after mass. The twins mouthed thankyous and Mammy smiled, placin the sweets in her bag. For later, she’d say, but later, at hame, she’d throw them in the bin.

      Such a lovely family.

      Mrs Reilly wore a knitted beret even on a day like this in the height of summer. She sat in the pew in fronty us. Da was always nearest the centre aisle, then Patrick, me, Mammy, Rona and Mona. When the twins were toddlers it was easier tae have them at that end so if they got girny Mammy could bundle them out doon the side without disturbin the whole congregation.

      Nooadays, of course, they were model children. Hair smoothed back in alice bands, wearin identical pink cord skirts and sparkly tee shirts, white frilly socks and patent shoes, they sat demurely through mass, kneelin and staundin and sittin when they were supposed tae, only occasionally takin out their fifty pence piece for the collection and examinin it. They’d made their first Holy Communion in May so we all went up thegether when it was time, me sheltered behind Patrick’s blue cord jacket. He attracted attention fae the granny brigade too as he was always smartly dressed, that different fae the other young guys in their jeans and trainers. Patrick didnae buy many claes but the ones he had were expensive. Between Patrick and the twins naebody ever noticed me, which suited me fine.

      When my granny was alive we used tae go round tae hers every Sunday efternoon for gammon sangwiches and hard boiled eggs and cake wi pink and yella squares in it. There was a funny smell in my granny’s: the pot of soup on the stove, solid wi barley, the ancient cat that ignored the twins’ attempts tae get it tae play wi balls of wool, the carpet in the hall that looked as if it was ages wi my granny, all mingled intae one.

      Noo she was gone Sundays felt looser. Sometimes Patrick was on the nightshift and went tae his room in the efternoon tae have a nap or lie on his bed, listenin tae music on his heidphones. The twins played in the back court, sometimes by theirsels, other times entertainin weans fae the next close wi cartwheels or dancin displays. Ah went round tae the swing park to meet my pals.

      Monica, Jemma and me had teamed up when we started secondary. Ah still mind that first day at St Philomena’s, the churnin feelin in my stomach. All the different primaries had been mixed up and in the mad scramble for seats ah was left staundin like a stookie. Jemma rescued me. She appeared out of naewhere and said, Partner? Ah nodded and the two of us sat thegether at the front. Ah hardly knew her then, though ah’d seen her around cause she went to the same dancin school as the twins – her class came out as theirs went in. Monica arrived later, waited at the front of the class for the teacher tae find her a seat. Sweet and smiley, that neat and shiny in her uniform she looked as if someone had polished her. When ah got tae know her family ah suspected her mother actually did polish her alang with everything else in their immaculate house. Her parents owned a Chinese takeaway and her ma cleaned the house fae top to bottom, drove Monica to school and went tae mass afore her long day’s work.

      Jemma was on a swing when ah arrived, swayin gently, tappin one foot on the ground tae stop hersel gaun high.

      You’re late.

      Had tae wash up.

      Time your ma got a dishwasher.

      Ah sat in the swing next tae Jemma’s, started to move, higher and higher, usin ma knees tae power me. Ah loved the squidgy feelin in my belly, felt ah was flyin. Ah kept on swingin, fast and high for a few minutes, then let the swing slow doon till it idled and stopped.

      Ah love that feelin you get in your belly when the swing goes dead high.

      A lassie in our Alison’s class says it’s a sin. Jemma’s sister was fifteen.

      How can it be a sin? You don’t go tellin the priest in confession you went on the swings.

      It’s okay when you’re wee. But when you start gettin your thingummies, the feelins you get are sexy.

       Really?

      A nun tellt her.

      Ah started tae giggle. How did the nun know?

      Jemma giggled too, then the giggle became a laugh and the next minute the two of us were nearly fallin aff the swings helpless.

      Mibbe it’s a … test. Jemma could hardly get the words out. If you want tae become a nun they test you to see if you can control yer sexy feelins.

      The tears were streamin doon ma face. Aye – when they join the convent … they have a row of swings and all these nuns swingin away prayin that they won’t feel sexy.

      Jesus Mary and Joseph protect me fae impure thoughts.

      Through the blur of tears ah seen Monica wavin at us fae across the road.

      Ah waved back. Don’t tell Mon what we were laughin at.

      Later, pretendin to read in the bedroom, ah kept thinkin about this efternoon. Sometimes it was like that when Jemma and me were on wur ain thegether. Monica was lovely but she’d of been really shocked about us laughin at nuns. And somehow, away fae Jemma, ah felt ashamed. Ah knew ah’d need tae confess it next time ah went and it made me feel a bit sick inside tae have to say it to a priest. Even though ah knew ah was really tellin Jesus and he knew anyway, it was dead embarrassin.

      And ah kept wonderin about what Jemma had said. Ah’d always thought sexy feelins meant fancyin boys or someone in a band. In RE we’d done a unit called ‘Growing Up: Issues of Morality’ but it was all about no puttin yoursel in situations with boys that could go too far, kissin and stuff. No one ever said you shouldnae go on the swings. Ah wondered if ah’d ever had other sexy feelins without knowin. Sometimes if ah woke up at night and needed the toilet, ah’d