When You Wake up and Scream

Patricia McCullough was in the kitchen preparing the dinner with her two eldest daughters, Dearbhaile and Yseult, when there was a knock on the door.

"Keep an eye on the potatoes," she told her daughters. "That'll be your sister with her friend."

"Is he a real freak, Mummy?" Yseult asked.

"I don't know, I've never seen him. Just remember what I told you and try to be nice to him, will you?"

"We will." Yseult and Dearbhaile chorused.

Mrs. McCullough went to the door and pulled it open. Her youngest daughter was standing there, accompanied by a very dejected-looking young gentleman a few inches taller than herself. Mrs. McCullough could see that the young man was a good-looking lad, but the fact that he looked as though someone close to him had just died threw cold water on his good looks. He had a scruffy and boyish look around him that he suited, with scruffy dark brown hair and brown eyes to match. Mrs. McCullough felt her heart fill with sympathy just looking at him, as he looked so helpless and lost.

"Hi, Mummy!" Naoise said brightly, though there was an underlying sadness in her voice that Mrs. McCullough attributed to the loss of her friend. Naoise hugged her mother and then turned to Conán, who was standing on the doorstep with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes downcast. "Mummy, this is Conán Connolly. Conán, this is my mother, Patricia McCullough."

Conán nodded slightly and mumbled a hello. Naoise shrugged and gave a small smile at her mother.

"Well, I suppose you had both better come in, eh?" Mrs. McCullough said, wondering what she had gotten herself into. "Two of your sisters are over, Naoise."

"What joy." Naoise said cheekily.

"I heard that!" Yseult called from the kitchen.

"Is it just them and Da?"

"Yes, that's all of us tonight. Your brothers are all busy and Eibhleann and Gearoidín probably couldn’t be bothered to come over."

"Has Dearbhaile brought Damian with her?"

"Yes, Lord help us all."

"Damian's my nephew." Naoise told Conán, who nodded. He seemed to have retreated into himself, and his eyes were flashing around nervously.

"Come on through to the kitchen." Mrs. McCullough said. "Tea's nearly ready, though Lord save us as I left Yseult and Dearbhaile in there by themselves."

Conán finally dragged his eyes away from the floor when he entered the kitchen. It was warm and the smell of the cooking filled the small room. He looked around himself. Naoise's two sisters looked a lot like her, though he personally thought that Naoise was the prettiest. The kitchen was filled with little nick-nacks and photographs and a bright little tea towel with an Irish blessing written on it.

"Conán, these are two of my sisters," Naoise told him. "That's Yseult and that's Dearbhaile over there."

Conán nodded, still feeling pretty awkward. There was suddenly pattering footsteps and a young boy ran into the room, with the same vivid hair as the rest of the family and a cheeky grin on his face. He looked about two.

"Living up to your name, are you, devil child?" Mrs. McCullough asked her grandson, and it shocked Conán to hear his own haunting childhood name said in such an affectionate way. Little Damian giggled and stuck his thumb into his mouth.

"I been in space," he giggled, his eyes bright with the excitement of the game he had been playing. He noticed Conán at that point and put his head to one side curiously. "Who's that?"

"That's Auntie Naoise's friend Conán." Mrs. McCullough told him, and he watched Conán for a moment more, before seemingly accepting him and proceeding to babble on about his epic adventure in space.

Conán stood with his eyes again downcast, shuffling his feet, his hands still in his pockets. Naoise guided him to the table and sat him down. Conán was glad to be sitting, more out of sight. Naoise sat next to him and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Just relax." she said to him softly.

There were more footsteps outside of the kitchen and a man entered the room, who was unmistakeably Naoise's father. He gave his wife a smile and then noticed his youngest child sitting with the strange young man at the kitchen table. He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh really, Naoise?" he asked her curiously.

"Don’t bother going down that road, Daddy." Naoise smiled. "He's just as friend, as Mummy will have already told you."

"Well, she said you were bringing someone over." Mairtin McCullough grinned. "So, this is Conán, eh?"

"Yes. Conán, this is my father, Mairtin."

Conán mumbled something inaudible as he shook Mairtin's hand. Mr. McCullough raised his eyebrows once more at his daughter, but having already been briefed by his wife he didn't pursue the matter. He was determined to get the shy young man talking more, though.

"So, Conán, what is it you do?" he asked him curiously. Conán looked up, saw that Mairtin was looking at him, and dropped his gaze again.

"Not much," he muttered. He coughed and looked up again. "I work at odd jobs, but there's not a lot of work going at the moment."

"Bit of a Jack of all trades, eh?"

"I know a bit here and there."

"Well, while you're here and the women get on with the women's work –" Mrs. McCullough laughed and shook her head at her husband. "Do you think you could come and have a look at something for me?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Just the radiator in the living room, over here, look."

Conán got up and followed Mr. McCullough into the living room, leaving everyone else behind in the kitchen. Damian's toys were littered all over the floor, bricks and toy trucks and little plastic soldiers, and Conán gave a thin and strained smile when he saw them. Damian didn't know how lucky he was.

"It's just that one there. It doesn't matter what I do, it'll never turn on. The dial's turned up and everything, but it's just not playing the game."

Conán nodded and knelt down beside it, checking it over.

"Ah, I think I know what's going on." he said thoughtfully. "I think it just needs bleeding."

Conán turned a small screw at the end of the pipe and held it half off. There was a faint hiss as hot air escaped from it.

"So, how long have you known our Naoise?" Mr. McCullough asked curiously, sounding casual, though Conán knew that this had been part of the plan all along.

"Not long." he answered. "A month, at the most."

"How did you meet her?"

"I just got talking to her one day. I can't remember how. She just seemed nice."

"She's fond of you, you know."

"She's a nice girl."

"She talks a lot about you."

"She does?"

"Yes. Naoise is a sweet wee girl. She's worried about you."

"She has mentioned that."

"You say you're friends?"

"Yeah, we're just friends, I can assure you of that."

"Well, you just make sure that you look after her, at any rate. Naoise is a lovely girl, but sometimes she makes decisions she rushes into. I don't want you taking advantage of that."

"I can promise you I'm not that kind of guy, Mr. McCullough."

"I'm not saying you are, lad, I'm just a normal father who's protective of his daughter. After what happened to her wee friend, well … it's only natural to worry."

"Quite right."

"Has she spoken to you about that?"

"Yes. She came round earlier, and she was pretty upset. She's a brave girl, though. She seems able to cope with it."

"And what's this she told us about you?"

"I'm going through a crappy time right now." Conán said vaguely, and slightly shortly.

"I was a little concerned when I realised that you would do something like that when Naoise was around."

"Well, sorry, but when you're in my state of mind you don't tend to think things through as straight as you would like to."

There was no mistaking it this time – Conán's voice was strained with the effort of being polite and his words were short. The radiator began to bubble as water reached the small pipe and Conán screwed the end back on. Within a couple of minutes, the radiator was warming up. It was only when Conán stood up, signalling that the job was done, that Mr. McCullough spoke again.

"I don't mean to offend you, lad."

"I know. You're just looking out for Naoise."

"Well, as long as you understand that."

"I do. I'm sorry, all right? I don't think I would have done it, anyway. I just wasn't thinking straight. I'm just lucky that I found someone like Naoise, because I probably wouldn't be here now if it hadn't been for her."