All Our Hidden Gifts by Caroline O'Donoghue

Author:Caroline O'Donoghue [O’Donoghue, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781536218367
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

“It’s a song,” Marie says, puzzled by our astonished expressions. “It’s a country song.”

“Did you hear us talking, Mum? About the Housekeeper card?”

“I don’t know. I was only half paying attention, Fifi. I must have.”

“Where did you learn it?”

“America. We learned all kinds of songs when we were over there. This is why I keep saying that music is better than plays, Ni. There’s an exchange. You learn more about the world.”

“Could you write down the lyrics, Marie?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from becoming a debate about the performing arts.

She furrows her brow. “I don’t know, pet. It’s been so long. I think I just remember the chorus. I must have heard you four talking. Anyway, Fiona, your daddy will be home in a minute. Set the table.”

“What about after dinner, Mum? Do you think you could sit down with a pen and paper and try to remember?”

Marie looks at her daughter slyly. “If I didn’t have to clean up, maybe.”

“I’ll clean. But you’ll sit down? You’ll write it up?”

“I’ll try, Fifi, but later. Now, stop crowding me.”

Roe and I leave, our minds boggled.

“I can’t believe it,” he says. “We thought this was some mystical magical thing, but it’s a song? A friggin’ song?”

“I mean, it could be both.”

“What were the lyrics again?”

“‘She could be your downfall, or she could be your start.’”

“What does that mean? And where does it leave Lily?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, is this her downfall? Or is this her start?”

The idea lightens us for a moment. The notion that Lily could be not just surviving but thriving. Starting again somewhere. Better, just without us.

“Do you really have to go home for dinner?” Roe asks.

“What? Oh, no, I was just saying that. My mum has late tutorials on Tuesdays, so it’s very much a grab-and-go situation.”

“Do you want to go back to the river?”

He says it nervously, as though asking if I want to have a sneaky cigarette by some bike sheds.

“If you want to. But do you think we should, I don’t know, talk about what I saw? In your bedroom?”

“Oh. That.” Roe tugs at his hair, twisting the dark curls into his fist. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

“We don’t have to!” I say, my palms up. “I’m not trying to out you or anything, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

He hides his chin in the zipped-up collar of his jacket for a moment, and I assume the subject is closed. Suddenly, he speaks.

“When my parents found out I was . . .”

“Bisexual?”

“I don’t know. Sure. Bisexual is fine, I suppose. That term makes me feel a bit like a specimen, but whatever.”

I briefly imagine this beautiful boy in nail varnish and Chanel No. 5 and hidden jewelry pinned to a frame like a dead butterfly.

“But that day was something I agonized about for months. Before Lily went missing, that was, like . . . the worst day of my life. And afterward, after you made me relive it .

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