Crossing the Irish Sea

 Another extract from ‘Becoming Maz’:

The ferry boat is arriving as they get off the train. The Hibernia bellows her horn, spitting out diesel, belching plumes of smoke into the sky, as she nudges her course through the Irish Sea.

“Marion, move!” Doris startles her out of her trance.

They are surrounded by people and luggage, all pushing and shoving to be first in the queue.

 

The returning passengers are barely off as the Granny leads the charge up the gangplank. With a stature and demeanour few dare challenge, prodding with her elbows and smacking with her bags, she secures seats in the saloon.

“What kept you? Making your daddy carry all the heavy bags. Big girl like you!” She then glares at Doris who is trying to give Michael a bottle of milk. “And you need to sort the babby out!”

Delving into her large carpet bag she extracts a brown paper bag and pulls out pieces of cooked chicken. She chews at a leg, pauses, then gives the other leg to Joe.

“Mammy!” is all Joe says as he grabs the paper bag and passes it to Doris who takes some breast for herself and Michael. Marion gets a wing. Joe laughs when he sees the wishbone and tells her to pull it with him. Marion gets the larger piece. She closes her eyes and wishes that she will pass all her exams and get to university. When she opens them, the Granny has got the paper bag and is feeding the remaining breast to Joe, reminding him that she was up at two o’ clock that morning cooking it and thank goodness otherwise they’d all be famished by now. 

The ferry lurches out onto the open sea. The floor tilts. The chicken bones fall and skitter under the seats. Michael wails. The floor tilts more violently. Michael brings up the contents of his bottle.

The smells of Guinness, cigarettes and vomit mixed with sweat are too much for Marion. She pulls the heavy door open and escapes outside.

Gripping onto the back of a life-raft seat on deck she stares out at the dark green sea. She tastes salt in her mouth and feels the wind combing through her hair. The sea seems to surge with laughter. Horses spitting foam rise and crash. Holyhead is disappearing and Dun Laoghaire is in the future.

Doris comes out with Michael. Mesmerized by the lifeboats hanging from the deck above, he stops crying. The clouds skip away, and the sun appears.

Later Marion poses for a photograph on one of Joe’s stools, her leg crossed over her knee and hands clasped behind her head: she is a heroine ready to tackle anything. Joe looks down through the viewfinder, his face full of pride. With the click of the shutter, Marion realizes she is his hope for the future.

 

A shadow looms. “Be Jaysus, it’s freezing out here!” The Granny sits down, elbowing Doris. She pours tea from her flask into the thick white mugs she has acquired from the saloon.  Marion is offered the brown paper bag and asked if she wants to pick the bones she has rescued from under the seats.

Doris goes very red in the face. “She’s not a dog!” The Granny sniggers and throws the bones at the seagulls perched on the rail then insists they go inside before they catch their death.

 

Doris scoops up Michael and goes inside closely followed by the Granny and Joe.

 

Marion stays, staring at the sea. The wind stings her cheeks. The waves climb and slap the side of the boat. The Granny’s mottled hand thrusts up through the waves. Seagulls swoop to tear at the skin. Marion’s fingers feel for the wishbone in her pocket. She smiles.

 Maz whispers, You can be whoever you want to be.

The waves break and recede.

Joe comes out and takes her to the top deck. He offers her the foam off his Guinness. It goes up her nose and she sneezes. He laughs. Together they watch little yachts bobbing up and down in the distance. Marion is cold but she likes standing here with her dad.

A man takes out an accordion and people sing ‘Molly Malone’. A blue-grey shape appears on the horizon. Marion turns to ask her dad what the shapes are that are growing bigger, but he has gone.