grown up in was pretty poor, but not this bad!
Two huge gray blocks loomed like watchtowers over what seemed like hundreds of miserable little gray box houses. A couple of stray dogs roamed aimlessly, halfheartedly looking for someone to bite.
There were no plants, no trees, no grass.
In the distance there was a small concrete row of shops. It was nearly all boarded up except for a sandwich shop and a bookies' office and a liquor store. It was probably just my overactive imagination but through the evening gloom I could have sworn I saw four horsemen loitering outside the sandwich shop. So far, so good--Mrs. Nolan was obviously better than I had already realized.
"My God," said Megan her face twisted in disgust. "What a dump!"
"Yes, isn't it?" Meredia smiled with pride.
In the middle of all the grayness was a small patch of ground that some urban planner had obviously anticipated would be a little oasis of abundant greenness where laughing families would play in the sunshine. But it looked like it had been a long time since grass had grown there. Through the twi- light gloom we could see a group of about lucy sullivan is getting married / 11
fifteen children gathered. They were clustered around something that looked suspiciously like a burned-out car.
Even though it was a bitterly cold March evening, none of them was wearing coats and, as soon as they saw us, they paused from whatever criminal activity they were up to and ran toward us, whooping loudly.
"Good God!" cried Hetty. "Lock your doors!" All four locks snapped shut as the children swarmed around the car, staring at us with their old and knowing eyes.
What made them look even more scary was that they were smeared with black stuff, which was probably only oil or charred metal from the burned car, but it looked like war paint.
They were mouthing something at us.
"What are they saying?" asked Hetty in terror.
"I think they're asking us if we've come to see Mrs. Nolan," I said doubtfully.
I opened the window a fraction of an inch and through the babel of childish voices established that that was indeed what they were asking us.
"Phew! The natives are friendly," smiled Hetty, making a great show of wiping the sweat from her forehead and breathing deeply with relief.
"Talk to them, Lucy."
Nervously, I opened the window a bit more.
"Er...we've come to see Mrs. Nolan," I said.
A cacophony of shrill voices answered us.
"That's her house."
"She lives over there."
"That's the one."
"You can leave your car here."
"That's her house."
"Over there."
"I'll show you." 12 / marian keyes
"No, I'll show you."
"No, I'm showing them."
"No, I'm showing them."
"But I saw them first."
"But you got the last lot."
"Fuck you, Cherise Tiller."
"No, fuck you, Claudine Hall."
A vicious fight broke out between four or five of the little girls while we sat in the car and waited for them to stop.
"Let's get out." Megan sounded a bit bored. It took more than a crowd of semisavage children to frighten her. She opened the door and stepped over a couple of children wrestling on the pavement.
Then Hetty and I got out.
As soon as Hetty put foot outside the car a wiry, skinny little girl with the face of a thirty-five-year-old cardsharp began tugging at her coat. "Hey, me and my friend'll guard your car," she promised.
Her friend, who was even more skinny, nodded silently.
"Thank you," said Hetty, her face a picture of horror, trying to shake the little girl off.
"We'll make sure that nothing happens to it," said the wizened little girl, a bit more threateningly, still holding on to Hetty's coat tightly.
"Give them some money," suggested Megan in exasperation. "That's what she's really saying."
"Excuse me!" said Hetty, outraged. "I will not. That's blackmail."
"Do you want the wheels to be on your car when you get back or don't you?" Megan demanded.
The little girl and her friend patiently watched the exchange with folded
Two huge gray blocks loomed like watchtowers over what seemed like hundreds of miserable little gray box houses. A couple of stray dogs roamed aimlessly, halfheartedly looking for someone to bite.
There were no plants, no trees, no grass.
In the distance there was a small concrete row of shops. It was nearly all boarded up except for a sandwich shop and a bookies' office and a liquor store. It was probably just my overactive imagination but through the evening gloom I could have sworn I saw four horsemen loitering outside the sandwich shop. So far, so good--Mrs. Nolan was obviously better than I had already realized.
"My God," said Megan her face twisted in disgust. "What a dump!"
"Yes, isn't it?" Meredia smiled with pride.
In the middle of all the grayness was a small patch of ground that some urban planner had obviously anticipated would be a little oasis of abundant greenness where laughing families would play in the sunshine. But it looked like it had been a long time since grass had grown there. Through the twi- light gloom we could see a group of about lucy sullivan is getting married / 11
fifteen children gathered. They were clustered around something that looked suspiciously like a burned-out car.
Even though it was a bitterly cold March evening, none of them was wearing coats and, as soon as they saw us, they paused from whatever criminal activity they were up to and ran toward us, whooping loudly.
"Good God!" cried Hetty. "Lock your doors!" All four locks snapped shut as the children swarmed around the car, staring at us with their old and knowing eyes.
What made them look even more scary was that they were smeared with black stuff, which was probably only oil or charred metal from the burned car, but it looked like war paint.
They were mouthing something at us.
"What are they saying?" asked Hetty in terror.
"I think they're asking us if we've come to see Mrs. Nolan," I said doubtfully.
I opened the window a fraction of an inch and through the babel of childish voices established that that was indeed what they were asking us.
"Phew! The natives are friendly," smiled Hetty, making a great show of wiping the sweat from her forehead and breathing deeply with relief.
"Talk to them, Lucy."
Nervously, I opened the window a bit more.
"Er...we've come to see Mrs. Nolan," I said.
A cacophony of shrill voices answered us.
"That's her house."
"She lives over there."
"That's the one."
"You can leave your car here."
"That's her house."
"Over there."
"I'll show you." 12 / marian keyes
"No, I'll show you."
"No, I'm showing them."
"No, I'm showing them."
"But I saw them first."
"But you got the last lot."
"Fuck you, Cherise Tiller."
"No, fuck you, Claudine Hall."
A vicious fight broke out between four or five of the little girls while we sat in the car and waited for them to stop.
"Let's get out." Megan sounded a bit bored. It took more than a crowd of semisavage children to frighten her. She opened the door and stepped over a couple of children wrestling on the pavement.
Then Hetty and I got out.
As soon as Hetty put foot outside the car a wiry, skinny little girl with the face of a thirty-five-year-old cardsharp began tugging at her coat. "Hey, me and my friend'll guard your car," she promised.
Her friend, who was even more skinny, nodded silently.
"Thank you," said Hetty, her face a picture of horror, trying to shake the little girl off.
"We'll make sure that nothing happens to it," said the wizened little girl, a bit more threateningly, still holding on to Hetty's coat tightly.
"Give them some money," suggested Megan in exasperation. "That's what she's really saying."
"Excuse me!" said Hetty, outraged. "I will not. That's blackmail."
"Do you want the wheels to be on your car when you get back or don't you?" Megan demanded.
The little girl and her friend patiently watched the exchange with folded
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