Colum
Things were calm in Donegal, quiet. We did well there while gran was alive. She was the sweetest woman. She didn't do a lot really. She didn't have to. It was almost like we tried our hardest to be good to each other and to make her happy. But then she died and things changed.
Dermot was never one to take care of himself, or anyone else. When Aunt Maggie came to tell him she wanted to take us, he put up a terrible fight. He didn't want to be left alone, I think. I may have been wrong, I probably was, but I sided with him for all his faults. I didn't want to leave Donegal for England. I don't think Uncle Dermot would have managed without us. And anyway, I think Aunt Maggie only really wanted Bridget. I get the impression she never liked me much.
The problem with that was that Maggie was right, we didn't know how to take care of ourselves. Suddenly, I was trying to learn to cook and watch over Bridget, who decided she no longer wanted to do homework or be home by dark. And all the while I was worried that someone would come and take us away from Dermot. They didn't, of course, but it was always on my mind.
We learned though. I picked up on cooking, and then Bridget grudgingly learned as well when I got a job after school and couldn't do it myself most nights. The local grocery store hired me to stock and carry things, and they paid me cash.
I suppose the bright side is that I was never home to bother Bridget, but when I was . . . Well, we had some terrible fights, didn't we? It was bad enough with the stress of two stubborn teenagers trying to take care of themselves, but then she had to pull boys into the equation.
I was coming home from work one Friday night, only a couple of days before Bridget turned 14, and there right in front of the house was Brian McAffee's car. And who do you think was in the car beside him but my sister? So what could I do but march right up to them, tell her to go inside, and give that gobshite boy a piece of my mind? She threw a proper tantrum over that: screaming, crying, throwing things. She gave me the silent treatment for weeks once she did stop yelling. But the boy was 17 years old and he had no business with my little sister. Anyway, wasn't she the one to threaten to throw poor Katy off the Slieve League if she so much as looked at me? Who is she to tell me I have no say in her dating life?