Monthly Archives: July 2011

Frankie’s doing lengths brother bother dad brother bother dad running through his mind can’t switch it off questions crowd around: Why does Dad not see it? Why does he come down so hard on me and let Paddy be? But … Continue reading →

Dad’s driving Frank to a practice for the swimming gala: How long’s this going ter take? Dad? Moron! – he waves a fist out of the window Dad? Aye? I’ve got a letter from school. Give it to yer Ma. … Continue reading →

Mam’s sitting at the kitchen table smoking a tab, biting her thumb as she flicks through the free paper. It’s nowt but adverts, Frankie says. Mam just nods and takes a drag. Mam? She doesn’t look up. Do yer want … Continue reading →

Mam’s insisted they’re all together – both are rare. It’s getting dark, the lamps are on, Dad’s got a beer he’s had a shower, his head’s wet: Reet, what’s this aboot? He pulls the ring, there’s a rip, a gush, … Continue reading →

Frankie hovers just outside the kitchen listening the tap running the clunk as she turns it off the click as she turns on the kettle feet shuffle, cupboards open and close the metallic clack of the teabag tin he’s behind … Continue reading →

Paddy shakes Frankie awake Haway, Frankie man! He sits on the bed opposite his knuckles tight: I need to talk to yer. The light from the street shades his face a sickly white What ? Frankie turns and looks at … Continue reading →

Since the disaster at Becca’s Frankie cannot stand the smell of orange squash. But he got the taste for vodka – mixes it with coke, lemonade, anything. Corinne says This’ll cheer yer up. Like a Helter Skelter at the Hoppings … Continue reading →

Frankie, man, what’s up? Nowt. Haway. I’m sick of Dolphins. Worrabout the Gala? the money’s on ye, Frankie. He laughs but doesn’t smile: Whose money? Yer kna what I mean. He’s kicking the fence as they walk: What’s the point? … Continue reading →

Next practice session he’s at the baths swimming hard but his mind is racing laps round and round: I’m good with words I’m a fast swimmer Becca fancied me – Top Dog, Top Dog! But Dad laughs at words, says … Continue reading →