Weekend Reading

In this chapter of Family Lines Lucy introduces Elsa and tells Deb about the drama that overtook their lives since she left.

So, yeah, you’d love Elsa – she’s a big fluffy yellow gal, all curls and smiles. I bet you’re surprised that Mam let a dog into the house. Remember when I used to want a puppy for Christmas and Mam said No way Jose because she’d end up minding it and cleaning up the poop and all that? Well, I didn’t exactly get Elsa for Christmas but soon after. She was a present from Daire. His mate’s labrador bitch had popped a surprise litter. How it was a surprise beats me. They think the father was a neighbour’s springer.

 Daire said she could keep me company, when he went away. The bollox!

 Can she roll a J? I asked. Not to mention the obvious.

 No, he shrugged. But she’ll roll over and let you tickle her tummy, and she’ll lick your face.

 My face? What good is that?

 Forget it, Loo, he said. I’ll give her back to Al. Maybe you just want to make yourself miserable.

 That’s a stupid thing to say. I was in a mood for arguing. I was so pissed off with him for going away, although he’d always been upfront about planning to go. Besides I really liked the puppy but for some reason I wanted to hurt him. Because I was hurting I suppose. Not that he was going to give me the pleasure of a fight. He was smart like that. He’d walk away from a row and leave me feeling like an eejit. Then I’d end up apologising just to make him talk to me again although I wanted to be right. I couldn’t bear the thought that he might walk away from me altogether. Oh boy! So this time he just leaned over, without looking at me and went to pick up the puppy that he had put in my lap. Without even thinking about it I grabbed her and held her against my chest.

  Give a thing take it back God will ask you where is that, I parroted like a stupid kid. The puppy looked up at me with such big melted chocolate eyes I couldn’t let her go. She’s mine, I added and ran my fingers over the top of her downy head. And her name is Elsa.

  Daire smiled. I knew you’d like her.

  It doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.

  Okay. I know. And I’ll miss you too but I’ve got to go. You know that.

  I nodded and kept my eyes on Elsa who had fallen asleep in my arms.

  Daire kissed me gently. I’ll write and tell you how it’s going.

  Sure, I said without looking up.

Next thing I had to introduce Mam and Dad to Elsa. Tricky that because they didn’t really even know Daire although they knew I was seeing someone. I carried her all the way home from Daire’s gaff, making up stories along the way. I found her in a cardboard box behind the supermarket. She followed me down the road. Someone came into the shop looking for a home for some puppies. None of them really worked because I could imagine Mam and Dad saying but why did you have to be the one who took her home?

In the end I decided to tell the truth thinking I’d get the sympathy vote because my boyfriend was emigrating. Dad was in the kitchen when I got home, reading the Evening Herald and drinking coffee, all nice and relaxed which was just as well cos - as you know - he can be a softer touch than Mam. At first he was all how could you, and why and what and who and your Mam won’t like this and haven’t we enough trouble on our hands as it is. (Which is true – more on that topic later.)

  Maybe she’ll make us happier, I tried. Look at her, I held her up in front of him. Isn’t she sweet?

  He tried not to smile but then wouldn’t you know, she peed straight down onto the kitchen floor.

  There’s my point, Dad said looking cross again.

  Don’t worry, I flustered. I’ll clean it up. I grabbed a tea towel off the back of a chair and began mopping.

  Dad stood over me, shaking his head and Elsa sat there looking from one to the other of us. She must have picked up the tension in the air because she began whimpering. So I had to tuck her under my arm while I mopped.

  After a couple of minutes Dad said, Leave it Lucy, you’re only making it worse. Take her out to the garden and I’ll clean up.

  Me and Elsa scrammed. When I put her down on the grass she started bouncing around snuffling the earth and darting after a fly.

  By the time Mam got home everything was cleaned up and we had made a little bed for Elsa in an orange crate lined with an old towel. Dad was talking about putting a hot water bottle and an alarm clock in to keep her cosy and remind her of her mother’s heartbeat.

  Mam looked at Dad and then at me. Who brought that dog into my house?

  I did, I confessed.

  Well you can take it back to wherever it came from.

  No, I said. Dad said she could stay. Her name is Elsa. She’ll be no trouble. I’ll do all the minding.

  I see, said Mam, glaring at Dad. So you’ll be bringing her to school will you?

  No but . . . I looked at the ground rather than face Mam’s interrogation.

  I’ll keep an eye on her, Dad said.

  Mam sighed and shook her head. I can’t be doing with the both of yous. But I draw the line at the dog. She left the room then and Dad tipped me a wink.

  I needn’t tell you that by the end of the week Mam and Elsa were the best of pals.  

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

You’re probably wondering what kind of more trouble we were in that had Dad at home cooking and minding Elsa. It seems a long time ago now but in reality it was only three years. When I look back the first thing I see is the fire. A major fire. Apocalypse. The end of the world. Star Wars. The whole shebang. A big effing bang. There I was deep asleep when next thing Elsa is standing over me barking her head off. (The clock and the hot water bottle didn’t fool her for a minute so she sleeps on my bed which is much cosier for both of us.) mam starts shouting Fire! Fire! And when I came out onto the landing I saw Dad racing down the stairs, pulling on a sweater over his pyjamas. At first I thought our house was on fire and started to run after him, calling to Mam to follow.

  No Lucy, she said. I have to ring the fire brigade.

  But there isn’t time if the house is burning, I screamed at her.

  It’s not the house, she said quietly.     

  I stopped half-way down the stairs and looked back up at her.

  It’s the factory, she said.

  I sank onto the stair and Elsa nuzzled in beside me, quivering anxiously.

  Mam stepped past me to the hall and picked up the phone. But already I could hear sirens in the air. I clipped on Elsa’s lead and stepped out onto the street. Half the neighbours were out there too, looking at the technicolour blaze. Every few seconds there was a loud bang and silky flames ripped through the sky, yellow, green, red, like a shattered rainbow. Someone nearby lit a match and we all jumped expecting another explosion.

  What are we going to do? Mam said behind me. What are we going to do?

  I didn’t have the answer. Mostly I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. All Dad’s dreams and his inheritance from Grandad Kane was going up in smoke. He used to love all the mixing and experimenting with colours. Will you ever forget the time he tried out his Sunset Glow in the front room and Mam put on her shades to look at it? And how he was up half the night trying to dilute it but in the end Mam went out and bought the flowery wallpaper that we hated?

  Can’t he just rebuild it? I asked Mam.

  She said nothing, only gave me a withering look.    

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