bit to help the Hallowe’en party. The bonfire was sure to be lit soon and I didn’t want to miss the first burst of flame.
David was relaxing in the armchair now, his long legs fully stretched out and his hands behind his head. Shayne sat on the ground, picking through his bag. Every couple of seconds he looked up
from his task, throwing glances towards the entrance to the estate. He wasn’t the only one waiting for Uncle Joe. I was looking forward to his arrival too, almost more interested in seeing
him than his firework display.
As I walked closer to the crowd, Shayne caught sight of me then turned his head away. Sandra galloped up, plonked herself down beside him and helped herself to his stash of goodies. He said
something to her and they both laughed and she glanced over to make sure I was looking. Then there was a huge surge towards the bonfire as Paddy – self-appointed chief firelighter –
beamed and made a big show of taking a box of matches from the top pocket of his overcoat and sliding them open.
‘Stand back, now! Stand back!’ he shouted, getting down on his hunkers. He leaned in and stretched his arm through the gaps in the timber pile to the tepee-shaped bit in the middle.
After only a couple of seconds, the flame took hold and the bonfire was ablaze. A cheer went up and some of the adults started to clap. The dry wood hissed and popped as it burned, sending grey
smoke curling up through the night like straggly wisps of witch’s hair.
Shayne stood as close to the flames as the heat would allow. The light on his face showed up the faking lines of white paint that he’d daubed across each cheek. I wondered had he
deliberately chosen not to wear a mask, or had his homemade disguise been forced upon him because Liz wouldn’t give him the money to buy one. The glass beads on the fringes of his waistcoat
shone in the firelight, causing tiny sparks to dart out from his body with every breath that he took. A golden line edged each feature of his face: his snub nose, his pointed chin, his flickering
eyelashes, and his lips moving in and out as he sucked on a mouthful of sticky sweets.
As I watched him through my eyeholes, I thought about the snake tongue sitting on its cotton wool bed in my jewellery box and wondered was it bad to feel so good about having something that he
wanted. Then, with a sudden twist of his head, he caught me staring straight at him. My breath dampened the inside of my mask and made a whooshing noise that swam all around my head and I felt like
I was underwater, about to drown. I was glad he couldn’t see my face.
Half an hour went by and still there was no sign of Uncle Joe.
‘I don’t know, OK?’ Shayne shouted when Sandra asked again what time the fireworks were starting. He began to pace around the bonfire, picking monkey nuts from his bag and
flinging them into the flames. David still hadn’t left the leather armchair despite Mel and a few others trying to pitch him out of it so they could toss it onto the flames. Shayne went over
to him a couple of times and kicked at the base of the chair, mumbling under his breath and keeping an eye on the entrance to the estate.
Mam and Dad came onto the green, with Kev fast asleep in his pram, and before long, Geraldine and Nora arrived, closely followed by Mr Farrell – Clem – and the rest of the Farrells.
Even Mr and Mrs O’Dea ventured out, but they left their front door open and stood on the edge of the green. Mr O’Dea surveyed the crowd, one hand holding his pipe and the other tucked
into the front of his camel hair coat. After about five minutes, he turned towards home and Mrs O’Dea followed, her head down and her arms folded tight across her chest.
I began glancing up at Shayne’s face every time a car came into the estate, but his expression didn’t change. Not even when Uncle Keith drove by in his battered grey van with Liz in
the passenger seat. I thought they might stop, but they just sped
David was relaxing in the armchair now, his long legs fully stretched out and his hands behind his head. Shayne sat on the ground, picking through his bag. Every couple of seconds he looked up
from his task, throwing glances towards the entrance to the estate. He wasn’t the only one waiting for Uncle Joe. I was looking forward to his arrival too, almost more interested in seeing
him than his firework display.
As I walked closer to the crowd, Shayne caught sight of me then turned his head away. Sandra galloped up, plonked herself down beside him and helped herself to his stash of goodies. He said
something to her and they both laughed and she glanced over to make sure I was looking. Then there was a huge surge towards the bonfire as Paddy – self-appointed chief firelighter –
beamed and made a big show of taking a box of matches from the top pocket of his overcoat and sliding them open.
‘Stand back, now! Stand back!’ he shouted, getting down on his hunkers. He leaned in and stretched his arm through the gaps in the timber pile to the tepee-shaped bit in the middle.
After only a couple of seconds, the flame took hold and the bonfire was ablaze. A cheer went up and some of the adults started to clap. The dry wood hissed and popped as it burned, sending grey
smoke curling up through the night like straggly wisps of witch’s hair.
Shayne stood as close to the flames as the heat would allow. The light on his face showed up the faking lines of white paint that he’d daubed across each cheek. I wondered had he
deliberately chosen not to wear a mask, or had his homemade disguise been forced upon him because Liz wouldn’t give him the money to buy one. The glass beads on the fringes of his waistcoat
shone in the firelight, causing tiny sparks to dart out from his body with every breath that he took. A golden line edged each feature of his face: his snub nose, his pointed chin, his flickering
eyelashes, and his lips moving in and out as he sucked on a mouthful of sticky sweets.
As I watched him through my eyeholes, I thought about the snake tongue sitting on its cotton wool bed in my jewellery box and wondered was it bad to feel so good about having something that he
wanted. Then, with a sudden twist of his head, he caught me staring straight at him. My breath dampened the inside of my mask and made a whooshing noise that swam all around my head and I felt like
I was underwater, about to drown. I was glad he couldn’t see my face.
Half an hour went by and still there was no sign of Uncle Joe.
‘I don’t know, OK?’ Shayne shouted when Sandra asked again what time the fireworks were starting. He began to pace around the bonfire, picking monkey nuts from his bag and
flinging them into the flames. David still hadn’t left the leather armchair despite Mel and a few others trying to pitch him out of it so they could toss it onto the flames. Shayne went over
to him a couple of times and kicked at the base of the chair, mumbling under his breath and keeping an eye on the entrance to the estate.
Mam and Dad came onto the green, with Kev fast asleep in his pram, and before long, Geraldine and Nora arrived, closely followed by Mr Farrell – Clem – and the rest of the Farrells.
Even Mr and Mrs O’Dea ventured out, but they left their front door open and stood on the edge of the green. Mr O’Dea surveyed the crowd, one hand holding his pipe and the other tucked
into the front of his camel hair coat. After about five minutes, he turned towards home and Mrs O’Dea followed, her head down and her arms folded tight across her chest.
I began glancing up at Shayne’s face every time a car came into the estate, but his expression didn’t change. Not even when Uncle Keith drove by in his battered grey van with Liz in
the passenger seat. I thought they might stop, but they just sped
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