Cally Phillips' Another World is Possible
Episode Two – STARTING OUT
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: 1969 Kilburn – ROISIN
Swearwords: None.
Description: 1969 Kilburn – ROISIN
There’s people everywhere. There’s always people everywhere but today it feels like there’s more of them, making more noise. If you can imagine a party that goes on forever, really goes on day after day night after night like the worst aspects of immortality, you’ll understand what it feels like. Like you just wish a day would be ‘ordinary.’ But this is Agamemnon Road and nothing here is ever ordinary. It’s a happening place. It’s 1969.
Roisin shuffles behind the sofa. It’s easier to observe and she already knows that observation is better than engagement. Even aged four, she’s not a party girl. She’s an expert, usually, at keeping out of the way. But today, for some reason, no one will leave her alone.
The excitement is twofold. Firstly it centres round the television, black and white and fuzzy as it is. On this screen, Roisin is reliably informed by Angie, or is it Stacey?
‘We’re gonna see a man walk on the moon.’
And like everything else she’s told in this house, Roisin doesn’t quite get it. Secondly, there’s something going on with mummy.
‘Your baby’s coming,’ Roisin is told by Chris, or Dave, or one of the many men, all with long hair and funny smells, who hang around the place she calls home.
Roisin doesn’t remember wanting a baby. Or asking for one. So why she’s getting one, and why today and what it has to do with the moon she really has no idea. But nothing makes sense here. She knows that. Mummy’s been fat for so long. Carrying Roisin’s baby. Roisin supposes she should be grateful. The baby would be much too big for her to carry after all. But last week, Liam said it was his baby. And Roisin’s sure that Angie and Chris were talking about Mary’s baby last week. Mary is mummy’s real name. Mummy isn’t really a name it seems. Or at least it’s a special name, which only Roisin is allowed to use. My mummy.
But what about the baby? Who will be the baby’s mummy? Roisin doesn’t want to be a mummy. But she doesn’t want to share her mummy either. Maybe the baby won’t need a mummy. You don’t have to have one. Well, Roisin thinks you don’t have to have one. You could have one. Or a daddy. Or both. Roisin can’t work out what mummys and daddys are. No one will give her a straight answer. Or she can’t ask the right question. Life is strange when you’re four and no one around you makes any sense.
Roisin looks up at the moon. She can’t see a man. Is it the man in the moon and she’s heard wrong? Probably. Roisin knows that she lives in a different world from all the adults around her. She’s given up feeling she’s missing out. She sighs. The man in the moon on the television. She’s just going to wait and see what happens next.
So, Roisin takes up her position behind the sofa. Something will happen soon and there’s bound to be a lot of noise and fuss and drinking and smoking and chaos before someone remembers she’s only four and packs her off to bed.
Bedtime isn’t something that’s fixed for Roisin. Like everything else, it seems to happen randomly, or when she finally falls asleep. Everything is random in this house. Maybe it’s because she’s the outsider. The rest of them are big and she is small. The rest of them seem to know what’s going on. They can make sense of what they see.
When she reflects back on it later, Roisin will realise how important this day was. July 20th 1969, the day Patrick was born. The day she got a brother and a daddy but somehow lost a mummy in the process.
Roisin chews her hair. It’s long and a bit ratty and smelly. When she has a bath and gets it washed in the bubbles, it can smell nice and is soft but bathing, like bedtimes, is random in Agamemnon Road. That’s where we are in 1969, remember. A shared house (polite version of hippy squat) in one of the warren of roads in Kilburn named (you might think ironically) after the Greek Gods. If you can be sure of nothing else in life, you can be sure that no Greek God ever set foot in Kilburn, North London.
Roisin’s never had her hair cut, not in all her four years. Cherie, who lives in the room down the hall, nearest to the kitchen says she’s ‘a flower child’ but Roisin doesn’t know why. Her hair doesn’t smell of flowers except maybe when she’s been bathed. Roisin doesn’t know what flowers smell of really. She’s not sure she’s ever smelled one. But she knows she isn’t a flower. She knows she is a child. How can a child be a flower? How can the man be in the moon?
Roisin knows there’s no point asking Cherie to explain. Cherie is always ‘wasted’ on her own admission. Ask her a question and she just giggles and says ‘later Roisin, I’m wasted’ or ‘I’m sooooo out of it… ask Liam.’
Thinking about Cherie gives Roisin an idea. She will ask Liam. Sometimes you get sense from Liam. Not when he’s smoking or drinking but…
Roisin crawls out from the sofa, has a quick glance at the moon (still no man to be seen) and goes in search of Liam. Leaving the living room, she heads for mummy’s room. Liam comes out of the door. He could be heading her off at the pass. That’s what Dave always says, ‘I’ll head you off at the pass,’ when Roisin tries to get into the bathroom in the morning and instead finds herself sitting at the table with a spoon in her hand and cereal in her mouth.
Roisin has no idea what Dave is talking about. Ever.
‘You can’t go in there’ Liam says.
Roisin wants to pout and stamp and say
‘It’s my mummy and I can if I want.’ But she realises this won’t get the result she’s after. So she changes the pout into her best flower child smile and says, ‘I came to see you Liam. I wanted to ask you a why.’
Roisin knows it’s called a question. But she’s in a hurry and why sounds easier. You have to be quick if you want to keep anyone’s attention around here. Liam seems pleased. He scoops Roisin up in his arms and carries her through to the sitting room. Bumps her down on the sofa beside him. She bounces. Giggles.
‘What’s your why?’ he asks.
And Roisin is surprised by what comes out next. She has a load of why’s that need answers. She stores them up in her head. And sometimes the one that comes out isn’t the one she thought she was going to ask. Like now.
Roisin wants to know: why the man in the moon is on the television and I can’t go into mummy’s room and who will the baby belong to and will mummy still be my special person and how do you get a baby in there and how do you get it out and… But she knows that this is too much for Liam all in one go and she says,‘Do I have a daddy?’
This is one of Roisin’s deepest why’s. The one she’s had inside her the longest. But no one has ever given her an answer before. So she’s surprised when Liam says, ‘Of course. Everyone has a daddy. And a mummy.’
She’s stunned. A mummy and a daddy?
‘Are you my daddy?’
Liam’s not so quick to answer that one. He looks at her for what seems like a long time. So long that Roisin is worried she shouldn’t have asked that question. Roisin knows that when they look at her like that they are about to distract her. No one says ‘no’ to Roisin, it’s not their way. They take her mind off things.
‘You have to take her mind off things. It’s psychology. Don’t say no. No is negative. She has to grow up with positive vibes. She has to be free.’ And then they have a smoke or a drink or ‘pop a pill’ or ‘drop a tab’ or something and no one has said ‘no’ but no one has explained anything either.
Roisin has to take action. ‘Are you my daddy?’ she asks again, with a different emphasis. Maybe this will make a difference?
‘Not really. I’m the new baby’s daddy.’
Roisin wants to ask why Liam is the new baby’s daddy but not her daddy. She feels like crying because maybe Liam doesn’t want to be her daddy. To stop the crying she says, ‘Don’t you want to be my daddy?’
And Liam picks up on the upward intonation and the trembling lip that goes with this new why.
‘I don’t have a choice, darling. I’d be your daddy if I could. But I’m just not.’
Roisin feels she’s about to lose it and start, ‘Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…..’
And Liam can see she’s about to. So he heads her off at the pass in a way that would make Dave proud.
‘Roisin. There’s a lot of things you don’t understand yet. One day you will. Don’t worry about it.’
Roisin is NOT comforted.
‘I want my daddy. I want my daddy.’ And then the penny drops. There’s another question she can ask. ‘Who is my daddy?’
It’s not clear now whether Liam is trying to distract her or himself when he shouts, ‘Hey.. everyone… they’re about to do it. On the tele.’
Roisin is not going to let him off that easy. She repeats the why LOUDER.
‘Who is my daddy?’
And then is the moment when everything was clear and not clear at the same time. Roisin looks at the television. Above it is a poster. In red. A man’s head printed black on a red background. Roisin points at the poster.
‘Is he my daddy?’
Looking back, maybe she never said that. Maybe she never got the words out. Maybe she just pointed. Maybe she never even pointed. It’s one of those memories you can’t ever fix because no one really remembers being in the moment. There’s no what you would call ‘evidence’ for the event.
But what did happen, just before the small step for man, was that Roisin asked, or Liam said, or somebody did something and it became clear to Roisin that the man in the poster was her daddy.
‘Is he my daddy?’
‘Yes.’
Roisin clearly remembers Liam saying, ‘Yes.’
His tone of voice was strange. Like he was angry, or sad, or frustrated with her. Like she’d got an answer he didn’t want to give.
‘Shhh. Roisin. Watch the TV. Stop making a fuss.’
And then everyone piles into the room. Laughing, smoking, mimicking the strange blurry objects on the black and white television. Roisin can’t see it clearly and can’t see what is so important or exciting. There are always men in the television, but when Dave says, ‘Wow, can you believe men are actually on the moon, that’s far out.’
Roisin looks out of the window at the moon again, but she still can’t see them. So she keeps focussing on what’s important and exciting for her. Which is the face of the man on the poster above the television. Her daddy.
And halfway through the whole ‘event’ someone yells at Liam, ‘The baby’s coming…. Get in here.’
And Liam rushes out of the room, missing the ‘giant step for mankind’ which had interested him so much. And Roisin realises that mummy is missing the man in the moon, too, or maybe she isn’t interested either, or maybe the baby coming is more important….and Roisin keeps her eye on the man on the poster.
And then, after a bit, when she can hold it in no longer, she asks Dave, ‘Is that my daddy?’ Pointing at the man on the poster.
‘Huh?’ Dave grunts. But Dave never makes sense anyway. Roisin tries again. With Angie.
‘Liam said that’s my daddy.’
Maybe a statement would make it easier to get a straight answer.
Angie tries to ignore her, so Roisin tugs at her sleeve and points at the poster and repeats
‘Liam said that’s my daddy. Is that my daddy?’
‘Could be…Roisin….. don’t.’ Angie shrugs away from her, and Roisin watches the ash drop from Angie’s ‘spliff’ onto the floor. ‘You can be a pain, Roisin’
Roisin really feels like crying now. She doesn’t feel special or excited or…
‘Hey, chill, Ange… the kid’s having a tough day. I remember when my kid sister was born…’ Chris isn’t usually that interested in Roisin, so she usually keeps out of his way. But today she’ll take the attention from anywhere it’s given.
‘What is it?’ Chris pulls Roisin towards him and onto his lap. ‘Tell Uncle Chris.’
And Roisin doesn’t feel like talking loud any more. So she doesn’t say anything.
‘Not talking?’
She shakes her head.
‘No one listening, huh? Hey. Whisper in my ear. What’s your deal?’
Roisin plucks up her courage. This is, after all, too important a why to let go. If she gets diverted now, she might never have a daddy.
So she whispers in Chris’s ear. ‘Liam said that’s my daddy. Is that my daddy?’ And points at the poster on the wall.
So maybe it was Chris who said ‘Yes.’ Or maybe he said ‘might as well be’ but anyway what happens next is that Chris is laughing and saying to Roisin, ‘Who’s your daddy?’
And when she points at the poster again he laughs some more and Angie laughs and Stacey laughs and Dave nearly stops breathing he is laughing so much and everyone seems so happy…
And Chris says, ‘Point out your daddy, Roisin.’
And Roisin points at the poster and dances for joy and just as Stacey says, ‘Hey, Roisin, do you know your daddy’s name?’
And at the same time Dave says, ‘Roisin is Che Guevara’s love child… far out…’
And Roisin hears it all at once and is about to answer when Liam comes back into the room and he’s holding this small, but very loud little baby, and everyone forgets Roisin and her daddy and how funny and clever she is and rushes over to him saying, ‘It’s a boy. Wow.’
‘Man. A boy.’
‘Hey, Liam. Cool. ‘
And saying things like, ‘You’re a father now. What’s it feel like?’ ‘What’s his name?’
And Liam just ignores all of them and goes down to Roisin’s level and holds the baby right in her face and says, ‘Roisin. This is Patrick. He’s your baby brother.’
And Roisin doesn’t know what else to say but, ‘Thank you.’
And everyone laughs again. And it seems that Roisin is still funny and clever. And then Liam takes the baby away from her face and holds him up in the air and everything is happening higher up than Roisin can see.
And at this point, if she knew the word she’d say she felt overwhelmed, but she doesn’t know the word so she just feels kind of full up and fizzy inside. And when she feels like that she wants her mummy. So she cries, ‘Where’s my mummy?’
And Liam bends down and says, ‘You can go in and see her now’
And Angie, who seems to have forgiven Roisin, takes her by the hand and they leave everyone else with Liam and Patrick and the men in the moon on the television. They go hand in hand into the bedroom across the hall. Where the person who was ‘mummy’ this morning is lying, looking not very well.
Roisin crawls up on the bed beside her and asks, ‘Are you still my mummy?’
Angie says, ‘Hey, Mary. I think her nose is a bit out of joint…’
And Mary says, ‘Of course I’m still your mummy.’
Roisin asks, ‘Are you the baby’s mummy, too?’
‘Yes. But I’m still your mummy.’
Then Angie says, ‘You have to share now, Roisin. With Patrick. He’s your baby brother. You have to look out for him.’
And Roisin doesn’t know what to say to that. She doesn’t know how to share a mummy. And suddenly mummy doesn’t seem like her special person any more.
It’s later on, and Roisin is lying in her bed. Thinking about the why’s of the day. About the men and the moon and how that was supposed to be exciting. But it wasn’t. About the baby coming and the baby is called Patrick and he’s very small and loud and Roisin’s not sure if he’s exciting or not. She doesn’t think so. But what is exciting is daddy. Her daddy. On the wall.
She’s thinking about her daddy on the poster on the wall. He is her daddy but not Patrick’s daddy because Liam is Patrick’s daddy, he said so. So maybe she has to share her mummy with Patrick, but she doesn’t have to share her daddy with Patrick and Roisin decides then and there she is not going to share her daddy with anyone. Ever. And the best way not to share is not to let anyone know you have something. If they don’t know you have it, they can’t take it off you.
Roisin decides she’ll just keep her daddy on the wall and in her head until he comes back for her. But she won’t tell anyone else. Ever. Especially not Patrick. He’s got her mummy but he’s not getting her daddy too.
Roisin shuffles behind the sofa. It’s easier to observe and she already knows that observation is better than engagement. Even aged four, she’s not a party girl. She’s an expert, usually, at keeping out of the way. But today, for some reason, no one will leave her alone.
The excitement is twofold. Firstly it centres round the television, black and white and fuzzy as it is. On this screen, Roisin is reliably informed by Angie, or is it Stacey?
‘We’re gonna see a man walk on the moon.’
And like everything else she’s told in this house, Roisin doesn’t quite get it. Secondly, there’s something going on with mummy.
‘Your baby’s coming,’ Roisin is told by Chris, or Dave, or one of the many men, all with long hair and funny smells, who hang around the place she calls home.
Roisin doesn’t remember wanting a baby. Or asking for one. So why she’s getting one, and why today and what it has to do with the moon she really has no idea. But nothing makes sense here. She knows that. Mummy’s been fat for so long. Carrying Roisin’s baby. Roisin supposes she should be grateful. The baby would be much too big for her to carry after all. But last week, Liam said it was his baby. And Roisin’s sure that Angie and Chris were talking about Mary’s baby last week. Mary is mummy’s real name. Mummy isn’t really a name it seems. Or at least it’s a special name, which only Roisin is allowed to use. My mummy.
But what about the baby? Who will be the baby’s mummy? Roisin doesn’t want to be a mummy. But she doesn’t want to share her mummy either. Maybe the baby won’t need a mummy. You don’t have to have one. Well, Roisin thinks you don’t have to have one. You could have one. Or a daddy. Or both. Roisin can’t work out what mummys and daddys are. No one will give her a straight answer. Or she can’t ask the right question. Life is strange when you’re four and no one around you makes any sense.
Roisin looks up at the moon. She can’t see a man. Is it the man in the moon and she’s heard wrong? Probably. Roisin knows that she lives in a different world from all the adults around her. She’s given up feeling she’s missing out. She sighs. The man in the moon on the television. She’s just going to wait and see what happens next.
So, Roisin takes up her position behind the sofa. Something will happen soon and there’s bound to be a lot of noise and fuss and drinking and smoking and chaos before someone remembers she’s only four and packs her off to bed.
Bedtime isn’t something that’s fixed for Roisin. Like everything else, it seems to happen randomly, or when she finally falls asleep. Everything is random in this house. Maybe it’s because she’s the outsider. The rest of them are big and she is small. The rest of them seem to know what’s going on. They can make sense of what they see.
When she reflects back on it later, Roisin will realise how important this day was. July 20th 1969, the day Patrick was born. The day she got a brother and a daddy but somehow lost a mummy in the process.
Roisin chews her hair. It’s long and a bit ratty and smelly. When she has a bath and gets it washed in the bubbles, it can smell nice and is soft but bathing, like bedtimes, is random in Agamemnon Road. That’s where we are in 1969, remember. A shared house (polite version of hippy squat) in one of the warren of roads in Kilburn named (you might think ironically) after the Greek Gods. If you can be sure of nothing else in life, you can be sure that no Greek God ever set foot in Kilburn, North London.
Roisin’s never had her hair cut, not in all her four years. Cherie, who lives in the room down the hall, nearest to the kitchen says she’s ‘a flower child’ but Roisin doesn’t know why. Her hair doesn’t smell of flowers except maybe when she’s been bathed. Roisin doesn’t know what flowers smell of really. She’s not sure she’s ever smelled one. But she knows she isn’t a flower. She knows she is a child. How can a child be a flower? How can the man be in the moon?
Roisin knows there’s no point asking Cherie to explain. Cherie is always ‘wasted’ on her own admission. Ask her a question and she just giggles and says ‘later Roisin, I’m wasted’ or ‘I’m sooooo out of it… ask Liam.’
Thinking about Cherie gives Roisin an idea. She will ask Liam. Sometimes you get sense from Liam. Not when he’s smoking or drinking but…
Roisin crawls out from the sofa, has a quick glance at the moon (still no man to be seen) and goes in search of Liam. Leaving the living room, she heads for mummy’s room. Liam comes out of the door. He could be heading her off at the pass. That’s what Dave always says, ‘I’ll head you off at the pass,’ when Roisin tries to get into the bathroom in the morning and instead finds herself sitting at the table with a spoon in her hand and cereal in her mouth.
Roisin has no idea what Dave is talking about. Ever.
‘You can’t go in there’ Liam says.
Roisin wants to pout and stamp and say
‘It’s my mummy and I can if I want.’ But she realises this won’t get the result she’s after. So she changes the pout into her best flower child smile and says, ‘I came to see you Liam. I wanted to ask you a why.’
Roisin knows it’s called a question. But she’s in a hurry and why sounds easier. You have to be quick if you want to keep anyone’s attention around here. Liam seems pleased. He scoops Roisin up in his arms and carries her through to the sitting room. Bumps her down on the sofa beside him. She bounces. Giggles.
‘What’s your why?’ he asks.
And Roisin is surprised by what comes out next. She has a load of why’s that need answers. She stores them up in her head. And sometimes the one that comes out isn’t the one she thought she was going to ask. Like now.
Roisin wants to know: why the man in the moon is on the television and I can’t go into mummy’s room and who will the baby belong to and will mummy still be my special person and how do you get a baby in there and how do you get it out and… But she knows that this is too much for Liam all in one go and she says,‘Do I have a daddy?’
This is one of Roisin’s deepest why’s. The one she’s had inside her the longest. But no one has ever given her an answer before. So she’s surprised when Liam says, ‘Of course. Everyone has a daddy. And a mummy.’
She’s stunned. A mummy and a daddy?
‘Are you my daddy?’
Liam’s not so quick to answer that one. He looks at her for what seems like a long time. So long that Roisin is worried she shouldn’t have asked that question. Roisin knows that when they look at her like that they are about to distract her. No one says ‘no’ to Roisin, it’s not their way. They take her mind off things.
‘You have to take her mind off things. It’s psychology. Don’t say no. No is negative. She has to grow up with positive vibes. She has to be free.’ And then they have a smoke or a drink or ‘pop a pill’ or ‘drop a tab’ or something and no one has said ‘no’ but no one has explained anything either.
Roisin has to take action. ‘Are you my daddy?’ she asks again, with a different emphasis. Maybe this will make a difference?
‘Not really. I’m the new baby’s daddy.’
Roisin wants to ask why Liam is the new baby’s daddy but not her daddy. She feels like crying because maybe Liam doesn’t want to be her daddy. To stop the crying she says, ‘Don’t you want to be my daddy?’
And Liam picks up on the upward intonation and the trembling lip that goes with this new why.
‘I don’t have a choice, darling. I’d be your daddy if I could. But I’m just not.’
Roisin feels she’s about to lose it and start, ‘Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…..’
And Liam can see she’s about to. So he heads her off at the pass in a way that would make Dave proud.
‘Roisin. There’s a lot of things you don’t understand yet. One day you will. Don’t worry about it.’
Roisin is NOT comforted.
‘I want my daddy. I want my daddy.’ And then the penny drops. There’s another question she can ask. ‘Who is my daddy?’
It’s not clear now whether Liam is trying to distract her or himself when he shouts, ‘Hey.. everyone… they’re about to do it. On the tele.’
Roisin is not going to let him off that easy. She repeats the why LOUDER.
‘Who is my daddy?’
And then is the moment when everything was clear and not clear at the same time. Roisin looks at the television. Above it is a poster. In red. A man’s head printed black on a red background. Roisin points at the poster.
‘Is he my daddy?’
Looking back, maybe she never said that. Maybe she never got the words out. Maybe she just pointed. Maybe she never even pointed. It’s one of those memories you can’t ever fix because no one really remembers being in the moment. There’s no what you would call ‘evidence’ for the event.
But what did happen, just before the small step for man, was that Roisin asked, or Liam said, or somebody did something and it became clear to Roisin that the man in the poster was her daddy.
‘Is he my daddy?’
‘Yes.’
Roisin clearly remembers Liam saying, ‘Yes.’
His tone of voice was strange. Like he was angry, or sad, or frustrated with her. Like she’d got an answer he didn’t want to give.
‘Shhh. Roisin. Watch the TV. Stop making a fuss.’
And then everyone piles into the room. Laughing, smoking, mimicking the strange blurry objects on the black and white television. Roisin can’t see it clearly and can’t see what is so important or exciting. There are always men in the television, but when Dave says, ‘Wow, can you believe men are actually on the moon, that’s far out.’
Roisin looks out of the window at the moon again, but she still can’t see them. So she keeps focussing on what’s important and exciting for her. Which is the face of the man on the poster above the television. Her daddy.
And halfway through the whole ‘event’ someone yells at Liam, ‘The baby’s coming…. Get in here.’
And Liam rushes out of the room, missing the ‘giant step for mankind’ which had interested him so much. And Roisin realises that mummy is missing the man in the moon, too, or maybe she isn’t interested either, or maybe the baby coming is more important….and Roisin keeps her eye on the man on the poster.
And then, after a bit, when she can hold it in no longer, she asks Dave, ‘Is that my daddy?’ Pointing at the man on the poster.
‘Huh?’ Dave grunts. But Dave never makes sense anyway. Roisin tries again. With Angie.
‘Liam said that’s my daddy.’
Maybe a statement would make it easier to get a straight answer.
Angie tries to ignore her, so Roisin tugs at her sleeve and points at the poster and repeats
‘Liam said that’s my daddy. Is that my daddy?’
‘Could be…Roisin….. don’t.’ Angie shrugs away from her, and Roisin watches the ash drop from Angie’s ‘spliff’ onto the floor. ‘You can be a pain, Roisin’
Roisin really feels like crying now. She doesn’t feel special or excited or…
‘Hey, chill, Ange… the kid’s having a tough day. I remember when my kid sister was born…’ Chris isn’t usually that interested in Roisin, so she usually keeps out of his way. But today she’ll take the attention from anywhere it’s given.
‘What is it?’ Chris pulls Roisin towards him and onto his lap. ‘Tell Uncle Chris.’
And Roisin doesn’t feel like talking loud any more. So she doesn’t say anything.
‘Not talking?’
She shakes her head.
‘No one listening, huh? Hey. Whisper in my ear. What’s your deal?’
Roisin plucks up her courage. This is, after all, too important a why to let go. If she gets diverted now, she might never have a daddy.
So she whispers in Chris’s ear. ‘Liam said that’s my daddy. Is that my daddy?’ And points at the poster on the wall.
So maybe it was Chris who said ‘Yes.’ Or maybe he said ‘might as well be’ but anyway what happens next is that Chris is laughing and saying to Roisin, ‘Who’s your daddy?’
And when she points at the poster again he laughs some more and Angie laughs and Stacey laughs and Dave nearly stops breathing he is laughing so much and everyone seems so happy…
And Chris says, ‘Point out your daddy, Roisin.’
And Roisin points at the poster and dances for joy and just as Stacey says, ‘Hey, Roisin, do you know your daddy’s name?’
And at the same time Dave says, ‘Roisin is Che Guevara’s love child… far out…’
And Roisin hears it all at once and is about to answer when Liam comes back into the room and he’s holding this small, but very loud little baby, and everyone forgets Roisin and her daddy and how funny and clever she is and rushes over to him saying, ‘It’s a boy. Wow.’
‘Man. A boy.’
‘Hey, Liam. Cool. ‘
And saying things like, ‘You’re a father now. What’s it feel like?’ ‘What’s his name?’
And Liam just ignores all of them and goes down to Roisin’s level and holds the baby right in her face and says, ‘Roisin. This is Patrick. He’s your baby brother.’
And Roisin doesn’t know what else to say but, ‘Thank you.’
And everyone laughs again. And it seems that Roisin is still funny and clever. And then Liam takes the baby away from her face and holds him up in the air and everything is happening higher up than Roisin can see.
And at this point, if she knew the word she’d say she felt overwhelmed, but she doesn’t know the word so she just feels kind of full up and fizzy inside. And when she feels like that she wants her mummy. So she cries, ‘Where’s my mummy?’
And Liam bends down and says, ‘You can go in and see her now’
And Angie, who seems to have forgiven Roisin, takes her by the hand and they leave everyone else with Liam and Patrick and the men in the moon on the television. They go hand in hand into the bedroom across the hall. Where the person who was ‘mummy’ this morning is lying, looking not very well.
Roisin crawls up on the bed beside her and asks, ‘Are you still my mummy?’
Angie says, ‘Hey, Mary. I think her nose is a bit out of joint…’
And Mary says, ‘Of course I’m still your mummy.’
Roisin asks, ‘Are you the baby’s mummy, too?’
‘Yes. But I’m still your mummy.’
Then Angie says, ‘You have to share now, Roisin. With Patrick. He’s your baby brother. You have to look out for him.’
And Roisin doesn’t know what to say to that. She doesn’t know how to share a mummy. And suddenly mummy doesn’t seem like her special person any more.
It’s later on, and Roisin is lying in her bed. Thinking about the why’s of the day. About the men and the moon and how that was supposed to be exciting. But it wasn’t. About the baby coming and the baby is called Patrick and he’s very small and loud and Roisin’s not sure if he’s exciting or not. She doesn’t think so. But what is exciting is daddy. Her daddy. On the wall.
She’s thinking about her daddy on the poster on the wall. He is her daddy but not Patrick’s daddy because Liam is Patrick’s daddy, he said so. So maybe she has to share her mummy with Patrick, but she doesn’t have to share her daddy with Patrick and Roisin decides then and there she is not going to share her daddy with anyone. Ever. And the best way not to share is not to let anyone know you have something. If they don’t know you have it, they can’t take it off you.
Roisin decides she’ll just keep her daddy on the wall and in her head until he comes back for her. But she won’t tell anyone else. Ever. Especially not Patrick. He’s got her mummy but he’s not getting her daddy too.
About the Author
Cally Phillips has written fiction and drama in English and Scots, much of which is published through HoAmPresst. She also currently works as editor for Ayton Publishing Limited and runs a number of online projects, including The Galloway Raiders, which is the online hub for Scots writer S. R. Crockett. Her latest project to hit the virtual shelves is the #tobelikeche serial, which started in October 2016.
For the archive of Cally’s fiction and drama, follow this link.
For the archive of Cally’s fiction and drama, follow this link.