Whose Life is it Anyway? by Sinéad Moriarty Read Free Book Online Page B

tart. And she wouldn’t give you the leftovers on her plate. She was always milking the boys dry. You must have really felt it, Annie. She was always asking Mick for money.’
    ‘Ah, well, Mick liked to spoil her when the business got up and going. I think he felt it was almost his responsibility as the eldest to look after her,’ said the champion fence-sitter.
    ‘Don’t give me that holy-Joe talk,’ said Auntie Nuala. ‘It’s me you’re talking to and I know you hated the old bitch.’
    I could hear my mother laughing. ‘OK, I admit I wasn’t her biggest fan. But with her living in Ireland and us over here she didn’t really have a chance to get up my nose.’
    ‘Mmm. Well, she got right up mine. When Tadhg said Mick wanted us to move over here and work in the business I practically sprinted on to the boat. Like the Road Runner I was,’ said Auntie Nuala, and they giggled.
    After bemoaning their mother’s early demise, my father and uncles proceeded to have a huge argument about who had shot Michael Collins. They shouted at each other, glasses were slammed down, fingers were poked into chests (their own when they were making a point, the other person’s when they were accusing them of being wrong).
    Uncle Tadhg stormed dramatically out of the house, nearly taking the door with him, after my father called him an ignorant fool. He was chased down the road by Uncle Donal and coaxed back into the house, but said he’d only stay if my father apologized. Dad said he wasn’t apologizing for anything, so Uncle Tadhg stomped out and said he’d never darken our door again. My father ran after him and shouted that that was the best news he’d ever heard. Uncle Tadhg yelled that he could shove his job up his uptight arse. My father bellowed that he’d rather be uptight than thick. Mr Green from next door stuck his head out the window and told them both to stop causing such a racket and take their argument indoors.
    ‘Mind your own business,’ said Uncle Tadhg.
    ‘Don’t you curse at me, you drunken Irish fool,’ shouted Mr Green.
    ‘How dare you call my brother a fool?’ roared my father. This from the same man who, minutes earlier, had chased his brother out of the house for being thick. ‘My brother here is the most intelligent man you’ll ever meet, and the best friend a man could wish for,’ he said, staggering towards Uncle Tadhg and swinging his arm over his brother’s shoulders.
    ‘If you don’t pipe down I’ll call the police, O’Flaherty. I’m warning you,’ said Mr Green, and slammed his window shut.
    ‘Am I your best friend, Mick?’ said Uncle Tadhg, beaming at my father.
    ‘The best, Tadhg.’ My father beamed back, and they stumbled into the house arm in arm, the best of friends and not a stupid man between them.

7
    Now that I had turned fifteen and left my early teens behind, the pressure was on for me to snog someone. Sarah had snogged four boys already and I was still a virgin kisser. There was a party on for the fifteen to eighteen-year-olds in the local Irish club on Saturday night, and I was determined to get some experience. Even if I had to kiss the biggest leper there, I wasn’t coming home without a snog.
    I decided to ask Siobhan for some tips. She had been going out with Liam O’Loughlin, champion Irish dancer in Great Britain for two years. They were the Torvill and Dean of Irish dancing. It’d make you sick. Anyway, I was always catching them kissing in her room and recently had found him with his hand up her skirt. She had screamed at me to get out and given me a dead arm later on when I teased her about it. The perfect Siobhan was not so perfect, after all. I was thrilled.
    I knocked on her door instead of barging in. I wanted to get her in a good mood.
    ‘Get lost,’ she shouted.
    ‘Come on, I need to talk to you. It’s really important.’
    ‘Sod off.’
    ‘I’ll tell Mum I saw Liam’s hand up your skirt.’
    ‘Bitch.’
    The door opened. Sometimes you