boasted that my grandad had never seen her without her nightie on. My grandad went to Mass occasionally, to keep the peace.
Rita stopped going when she was sixteen. Sean and I were never christened, one of the few things Rita and Peter agreed about. They were both atheists.
Brian asked me if I’d be going up to the castle next weekend to roll my egg. I’ll see how I feel, I said.
Valerie’s coming, he said.
I sat on the bench and watched Brian hurtling his eggs down the hill, whooping every time. Valerie had bad circulation and her lips were tinged blue. She rolled her eggs gently, leaving them for Brian to retrieve. I’d painted one happy and one sad. I’d given them to Brian to roll. Valerie came and sat beside me, plumping herself down.
So is Brian your uncle then? she said, linking her arm into mine.
Yes, I said, but I don’t call him Uncle. He’s only six years older than me. More like a big brother really.
I think he’s lovely, she said.
He has his moments, I suppose.
Have you got your flask with you for the picnic?
Yes, I’ve got it in my bag, I said dutifully.
My mum and dad have gone to get the tartan rug from the car.
That’s good.
Did you know I got four Easter eggs and a chocolate rabbit?
That’ll keep you going for a while, I said.
I ate the ears today. My mum says I’ve to share the rest. Did you get many yourself?
I got one from my granny and one from my boyfriend.
That’s nice. Brian’s my boyfriend.
I hope you don’t fight.
Not really. I don’t think so. No we don’t.
I’m glad.
We watched Brian ambling down the hill to collect the eggs.
I think he’s really enjoying himself today, she said. Are you enjoying yourself?
Yes, thanks, I said.
During the picnic, Brian farted and Valerie told him to say ‘Excuse Me’. He denied it was him and went in the huff.
Later, when I was lying on the couch he came over and said, I’m sorry about that thing in the park, Helen.
It’s okay, I said, but it’s polite to say excuse me. You know that.
Excuse me then, he said.
You’re excused.
D’you think Valerie will still want to be my girlfriend?
I’m sure she will.
He sat down and put my feet on his lap. I think I’ll just stroke these big feet of yours, if you don’t mind.
If you want to, I said.
He loved stroking things.
IF YOU LOOK at yourself through a window, it’s not really you it’s happening to, it’s like watching yourself in a play. Today, 10th May 1984, we’re looking through the round window. Rain’s spitting on the windows of the health centre, Myra’s smiling weakly.
You’ve got a virus called Coxsackie B4, she says. There have been recent sporadic cases in the west of Scotland. It can take a long time to burn itself out. We’ll send you to see a specialist.
She passes me the tissues, her first helpful gesture since the trial began.
I told you I was ill, I say. I’ve been telling you for months and you didn’t believe me! If that locum hadn’t come out to see me, you’d never have done viral studies and you still wouldn’t believe me. He could see I was really ill, he believed me, why couldn’t you?!
I’m sorry, Helen, she replies. We doctors aren’t gods. I was making what I thought was an accurate clinical judgement. Sometimes, we get it wrong. At least we’re on the right track now, aren’t we?
(Yes, Myra, we’re on the right track now, no fucking thanks to you.)
I’m giving you something for the pain and nausea, she says, reaching for her pad. And I’ll give you a sick note for the next three months. Her hands twitch and scribble. She’s like a giant insect.
As I leave her room, I see that a huge rainbow has come out.
Rita’s in the waiting room. She hugs me tightly when I tell her what Myra has said. Everyone’s looking at us, wondering what disease the thin girl has. When we get home, I go back to bed and Rita calls Nab to tell him the news.
Nab looked it up in a book at the hospital. He photocopied page 110 and came home from work early with flowers and strawberry tarts.
Coxsackie, he read out loud at my bedside: an enterovirus first isolated in the town of Coxsackie in New York. Can cause a polio-like illness (without the paralysis) in humans; can cause paralysis and death in young mice.
At least I’m not a young mouse, I said. Nab sat down on the bed and gave me one of his polar bear hugs.
When Sean got in from school, he galloped up the stairs and burst into my room. I hear you’ve got the cock-a-leekie virus! he said.
After tea, Rita called my granny to tell her about the diagnosis. I couldn’t make out everything she said but I heard ‘light at the end of the tunnel’.
The next night, Ivan called me from a payphone in the uni library to see how it had gone with Myra. He said he’d look up enteroviruses and call me back. Half an hour later, he told me that enteroviruses developed in your gut and could affect your muscles and nervous system. I bet I got it when I was working at the Swan Hotel, I said. He started to answer but his money ran out and we got cut off. I waited by the phone, hoping he’d call back but he didn’t.
Shrouded in my pink candlewick dressing gown, crying with pain. Sean’s friends walk past me with embarrassed respect. Square window.
Brian’s coming on Sunday, Rita said to the grey-faced fixture on the couch. That should cheer you up.
He had asked Rita if I was going to die. Don’t worry, he said, she’ll go to heaven and heaven’s lovely. It’s the same as earth but you get less colds.
I heard Brian tramping
