about it. Then I got your message yesterday saying otherwise. What’s changed your mind?’
‘Well you look like the kind of Sheila who doesn’t give up and I’m not in the mood for being pestered,’ quipped the inmate, ‘and I’ve nowhere to bloody run!’
Angela laughed. ‘Oh Paddy, I’m so flattered. So what’s the real reason?’
Paddy rubbed his stubble covered chin and looked thoughtfully at this good-looking woman with a kind heart and a ferocious brain who’d been sent to help him understand himself. He silently wished her the very best of luck. ‘I think it’s time, doc,’ he said, ‘what you said before made a lot of sense but I’m not used to it.’
‘Not used to what, Paddy?’
‘People making sense to me.’
‘Alright.’ said Angela, keen to hold the momentum, ‘So where do you want to start?’
Paddy lifted up a carrier bag that had been lying at his feet and handed it to Angela.
‘There must be half a dozen folders in here,’ said Angela as she pulled one of them out. They were full of pages and pages of hand written notes. ‘What’s in them?’
‘The story, doc,’ said Paddy, ‘the whole story, everything that’s happened to me since that day in 1962.’
‘I can read it all?’
‘That’s why I’ve given it to you,’ said Paddy.
‘I never knew you’d have something like this, Paddy’ said Angela who was overwhelmed by Paddy’s meticulousness. She had a quick look through the files and they were all in incredible order, detailing year on year every bit of Paddy’s painful story. Except that they weren’t written like a diary.
‘I’m full of surprises, doc.’
‘Paddy, you’ve styled all this like a novel. It’s all in the third person. Why have you done that?’
‘I thought it might be less painful to…’ Paddy folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs, ‘…well to think of all the shit happening to someone else. Does that make sense to you?’
‘It does,’ said Angela, ‘but what do you intend to do with this? I mean, it’s a manuscript. Do you want to get it published?’
‘I guess it wouldn’t be worth it otherwise.’
‘Some would say you shouldn’t profit out of anything in your situation.’
‘They’re the ones who haven’t had the bloody life I’ve had,’ said Paddy.
Angela raised her head slightly at Paddy’s deepening, firmer voice and the look of sheer anger shooting through his eyes. She’d obviously touched a nerve. ‘You’ll have to be prepared for it though, Paddy,’ she said, ‘you do realise that?’
‘Yeah, I do, doc’ said Paddy.
‘Okay,’ said Angela who put down the file she’d been looking through and raised her eyes to take in once more the shadows all across his prematurely aged face.
‘So you want to start in 1962?’
‘Yes, doc.’ said Paddy. ‘Like I said, the day before my fifth birthday. And what I should point out first of all is that I was called Sean back then. The name of Paddy came later.’
‘Alright.’ said Angela. ‘ Just a point before we start, though. Is there anything here that talks about the time before that day in 1962?’
‘No.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Because I thought I was happy before then,’ said Paddy.
‘Thought you were?’
‘Yes,’ said Paddy, ‘like I thought I had a mother who loved me.’
1962
‘…he’d hit his little hand against the glass of the window so many times that the whole of his arm was aching. His Mummy had told him they were going to have tea with the Nuns. She’d told him there’d be cakes and jelly and ice cream. One of the Nuns had taken him out into the garden to play with some of the other kids and when he’d gone back to the room his Mummy had gone. The Nun told him that his Mummy was very sorry but she couldn’t cope with him anymore and was trusting him to the care of the Children’s Home. He told them they were lying and one of them had slapped his face. He’d made for the door
‘Well you look like the kind of Sheila who doesn’t give up and I’m not in the mood for being pestered,’ quipped the inmate, ‘and I’ve nowhere to bloody run!’
Angela laughed. ‘Oh Paddy, I’m so flattered. So what’s the real reason?’
Paddy rubbed his stubble covered chin and looked thoughtfully at this good-looking woman with a kind heart and a ferocious brain who’d been sent to help him understand himself. He silently wished her the very best of luck. ‘I think it’s time, doc,’ he said, ‘what you said before made a lot of sense but I’m not used to it.’
‘Not used to what, Paddy?’
‘People making sense to me.’
‘Alright.’ said Angela, keen to hold the momentum, ‘So where do you want to start?’
Paddy lifted up a carrier bag that had been lying at his feet and handed it to Angela.
‘There must be half a dozen folders in here,’ said Angela as she pulled one of them out. They were full of pages and pages of hand written notes. ‘What’s in them?’
‘The story, doc,’ said Paddy, ‘the whole story, everything that’s happened to me since that day in 1962.’
‘I can read it all?’
‘That’s why I’ve given it to you,’ said Paddy.
‘I never knew you’d have something like this, Paddy’ said Angela who was overwhelmed by Paddy’s meticulousness. She had a quick look through the files and they were all in incredible order, detailing year on year every bit of Paddy’s painful story. Except that they weren’t written like a diary.
‘I’m full of surprises, doc.’
‘Paddy, you’ve styled all this like a novel. It’s all in the third person. Why have you done that?’
‘I thought it might be less painful to…’ Paddy folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs, ‘…well to think of all the shit happening to someone else. Does that make sense to you?’
‘It does,’ said Angela, ‘but what do you intend to do with this? I mean, it’s a manuscript. Do you want to get it published?’
‘I guess it wouldn’t be worth it otherwise.’
‘Some would say you shouldn’t profit out of anything in your situation.’
‘They’re the ones who haven’t had the bloody life I’ve had,’ said Paddy.
Angela raised her head slightly at Paddy’s deepening, firmer voice and the look of sheer anger shooting through his eyes. She’d obviously touched a nerve. ‘You’ll have to be prepared for it though, Paddy,’ she said, ‘you do realise that?’
‘Yeah, I do, doc’ said Paddy.
‘Okay,’ said Angela who put down the file she’d been looking through and raised her eyes to take in once more the shadows all across his prematurely aged face.
‘So you want to start in 1962?’
‘Yes, doc.’ said Paddy. ‘Like I said, the day before my fifth birthday. And what I should point out first of all is that I was called Sean back then. The name of Paddy came later.’
‘Alright.’ said Angela. ‘ Just a point before we start, though. Is there anything here that talks about the time before that day in 1962?’
‘No.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Because I thought I was happy before then,’ said Paddy.
‘Thought you were?’
‘Yes,’ said Paddy, ‘like I thought I had a mother who loved me.’
1962
‘…he’d hit his little hand against the glass of the window so many times that the whole of his arm was aching. His Mummy had told him they were going to have tea with the Nuns. She’d told him there’d be cakes and jelly and ice cream. One of the Nuns had taken him out into the garden to play with some of the other kids and when he’d gone back to the room his Mummy had gone. The Nun told him that his Mummy was very sorry but she couldn’t cope with him anymore and was trusting him to the care of the Children’s Home. He told them they were lying and one of them had slapped his face. He’d made for the door
Similar Books
His Seduction Game Plan
Katherine Garbera
The Skin
Curzio Malaparte
Left To Die
Lisa Jackson
Neverland
Douglas Clegg
The Pool of Fire (The Tripods)
John Christopher
Iron Cast
Destiny; Soria
The Real Life Downton Abbey
Jacky Hyams
Peace
Antony Adolf
Chasing Happiness
Raine English
Chanel Bonfire
Wendy Lawless