Lying awake in the darkness, I listened to the soundly sleeping breaths of my uncles: Mickey and Peter, with whom I shared the room, and my brother, Dermot, with whom I shared the bed.

I wished I could sleep like them. But how could I, when my sister lay in the adjacent room, an evil spirit lying dormant inside her while she slept. My mind tormented me as it played images of how the fierce tall-man would manifest himself in Maria.

......

The birds began their dawn chorus before I finally succumbed to sleep.

......

I flailed violently in the bed as Dermot shook me, "Get up, our kid, we've gotta go to Town Granny's for our dinner," he shouted, shaking me some more.

Bleary-eyed from too little sleep, I sat up and did the thing I instinctively did every morning, patted my hair down. Sleepily trying to tame my whin-bush, the revelations of the previous day slammed back to me, "Where's our Maria?" I shouted, hurtling into the other room.

Staring at the two neatly made beds, I repeated my question with rising urgency, "Our Maria, where is she?"

My raised mood bemused Dermot, "Have you two been on the red lemonade or summat?"

I moved closer, "What do you mean?"

"You've woke up all jittery and jumpy, like our Maria." He leaned in, focussing on my face, looking for something. Seeing nothing untoward, he pulled back, "But our Maria's got reason to be, you haven't."

A chill hit me, "What do you mean?"

He exited the room, me shadowing him, "What's up with her?" I asked again,

bracing myself for his answer, "Summat's growing in her eye; she's right flipping out about it," he said, unconcerned.

......

I took the stairs two by two, following the sound of Maria's distressed voice into the kitchen.

She arched backwards over the sink while Granny leant over her, cradling her head. I homed in as Granny gently opened Maria's eye with her thumb and forefinger while ignoring her incessant chants of, "What is it, what is it?" and protestations, "Leave it alone, stop touching it!"

Granny pondered before pronouncing, "You have a stye." She released Maria and patted her hair reassuringly, "You probably got it from that cheap make-up you're using."

Maria rushed to the small mirror on the wall and thrust her face into it, "It looks horrible; how can I get rid of it?" she asked, rubbing her eye vigorously.

Granny grabbed her hand, "Stop. You'll make it worse. Leave it be."

Maria looked at her, "I can't go out looking like this, can I?"

Granny took a pot from the cupboard, "You've to go to your Town Granny's today. Don't be worrying, it probably feels worse than it looks – you look grand," she said, piling potatoes from a paper sack into her pot.

Maria continued to stare at her eye, her face gnarled with revulsion and worry.

Me, I stood and glared with her. The white of her eye was vivid red, and in the corner of her inflamed eye-rim, a little mound lurked. Although no bigger than a facial spot, I worried it harboured a growth, a malignant manifestation of the fierce tall-man's wicked intention.

Dermot broke my dark thoughts with his cheerful exuberance, "Seriously, Maria, you can hardly notice it," he said, patting her shoulder.

Granny, happy with her portion of potatoes, climbed the two steps up to the range, readying herself to prepare the main meal of the day.

"Dermot's right, Maria," she stopped, halted by a thought, "do you know something, Milly Doyle lives up beside your Town Granny. I think she has the cure of the stye."

Maria turned from the mirror, "She can cure styes?" she asked, buoyed. Granny continued to the range, "I'm sure I heard tell she can."

On hearing this, Maria's face visibly softened, and she took my 100

hand, "Come on, Gerard, let's go." ......

Our Monday dinner dates to Town Granny were mandatory.

We three didn't enjoy these sojourns; rather, we endured them, always eager to get back to the freedom of the fields. But for me, this trip was different because I was on a mission to meet the magnificent Milly, who I hoped would hold the key to exorcising the spirit of the fierce tall-man from Maria.

......

Dermot was, as always, turbocharged and took off on the three-mile walk before us. Maria and I were delayed while she pinned her hair to fall over and cover her offending eye.

She power walked while I dawdled behind her. She stopped and looked back, "Gerard, will you hurry up? I don't want us bumping into anyone when I've got this ugly eye!"

I ran to her and took her hand, "Do you mean the boy with Bruce Lee hair?" Her head shot in my direction, "Is that what you call him?" she asked, with a smile.

It gladdened me to see her smile, and I was pleased with myself for being the bringer of this positive amid her possession, "Yes," I said proudly.

Her smile lingered, "I like that Gerard, I'll give him that nickname if I ever see him again," she said, quickening her pace and bringing me with her.

"What do you mean, will you not see him ever again?" I asked, curious.

"I'm not seeing him looking like this, that's for sure," she said, feeling her hair to ensure it covered her eye.

......

In town, I noted most of the shops were closed. This meant the narrow main street was without the bustle of the previous Saturday evening. The lack of human presence shrouded the place in sleepy silence.

Maria and I had the town to ourselves, and I didn't like it. The lack of people lent the place an eerie atmosphere that worsened my sense of foreboding.

As we walked, it soon became clear to me that we were not alone. A figure in the near distance caught my eye, my head instinctively shunting forward to get a better sense of what, from a distance, looked like a kid of my age, dressed in black.

Nearing the figure gave me greater clarity; it wasn't a kid. It was a lady in a shawl, sitting on a concrete post by the corner of the market square. Immediately I tensed, and Maria sensed my unease, "What's up with you?" she asked, stopping. I pointed, "That woman, what's she doing?" Maria looked, "She's doing nowt, just sitting down minding her own business," she said, pulling me forward.

My heart paced – I felt this lady had been placed here for a purpose; she was part of this dark narrative I was taking part in.

Closing in on the lady, I saw she was old, her face framed by the 102

black woollen shawl, was withered, gnarled with age. I pulled back on Maria's hand, stopping her. She reacted with an irritated pull-back, "Gerard, it's an old lady. Stop being such a scaredy-cat."

In truth, it was Maria I was scared for. I was on the outside, and I didn't want her to cross the lady's path, so I swiftly changed sides and grasped her left hand, "I'm not scared, come on," I lied, pulling her into a slow jog.

Our change in pace caught the attention of the lady, her gaze fixed on us.

I feared she might be part of this darkness that Maria was caught in, so my caution was justified.

Her eyes homed in on mine, and as mine fixed on hers, I'm sure I saw knowing in her gaze – something in her eyes gave me reassurance. I relaxed.

Then, she reached out as I was next to her, offering her up-turned palm to me. I brushed my hand against hers before briefly departing – sure there was goodness in her touch.

......

As we reached the bottom of the hill up into the Half-Acre, where Town Granny lived, I felt a renewed sense of positivity.

The sun burst from behind a cloud, boosting my mood further. I tightened my grip on Maria's hand, guiding her towards the cure.

At the top of the hill, we were met by two women and a man who pushed a pram. One of the women smiled, nodded, and said, "How-are- yis?" Maria returned a smile and lowered her head in silent response.

When they passed, I saw the pram was empty. When I looked up, the man's appearance startled me, I stopped. My halt caused Maria to jolt me onwards, "Come on, Gerard, I hate people seeing me like this," she admonished. I carried on, looking back at the man with the pram, "Maria, did you see him?"

"I saw you gawping at him. It's rude to stare." Her answer frustrated me,

"But did you see his face?"

"No, I didn't."

"He was wearing make-up, blue-eye shadow – like the one you've been wearing."