The Cantankerous Molly Darling by Alvy Carragher

Author:Alvy Carragher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicken House
Published: 2019-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

I wake with a dull headache. I don’t want to rouse Tess, so I slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise. Tess is sleeping perpendicular to me. She is still dressed in sequins and lost to dreams of Barry.

She kept me up past midnight to discuss his relentless charm.

‘Do you think he, like, likes me – likes me, though? I mean, you saw the way he was looking at me,’ she said again and again.

‘I didn’t see much – I was blinded by the vinegar.’

‘You’d tell me if I was, like, wasting my hormones on him, right?’

‘You’re wasting your hormones on him,’ I said, but Tess chose to ignore me.

I tuck the crumpled duvet around her, then pull my usual giant woolly jumper over my pyjamas, shove my feet into my slippers, and scan the room. Lady Macbeth isn’t in her nest or under the bed. My stomach drops a little; it’s hard not to feel panic after everything that happened the last time she went missing. I try to reassure myself that it’s irrational to worry – Polly’s probably just taking wedding photos with her ‘flower chicken’.

I tread softly downstairs, hoping not to disturb anyone. Part of me wonders if Claire has posted her video yet, but I push the thought to one side. There’s no point fretting over it until it happens. I’ve enough to worry about.

It is about 6.30 a.m.; though I haven’t slept much, it’s the best sleep I’ve managed all week.

‘Molly, is that you?’ Polly’s voice comes laced with sugar from the kitchen.

‘No,’ I say, and think about darting back upstairs. But it is too late.

‘Your chicken is in here. Brian has a connection with the vet, so she’s coming over first thing,’ she says. There it is again, the extra sugar. I am not about to admit it, but I am relieved: poor Lady Macbeth needs more help than Sudocrem. The Vegan Gathering has taken it out of her, and last night her night-time squawks were mere shudders of her chicken body.

I begrudgingly enter the kitchen. Brian is sitting at the kitchen table dressed in jeans and a loose T-shirt, looking as if he’s always been here. Polly stands beside him, transferring a large omelette on to his plate. There is a Ziploc bag beside him containing a ham sandwich. His cheeks are flushed, as if Polly has already put him to work.

‘Brian is after taking the day off work to help out with the wedding prep. He’s already put up the marquee and piled up loads of wood for the bonfire. He got up at four . . . But it has to be done if we’re ever going to get everything together on time,’ Polly says, walking across the kitchen to the sink, as if BrainDrain’s achievements are hers by default. She shoves the pan under the tap, running cold water over it.

‘Ah, sure, someone has to do it,’ he says, grinning proudly. ‘We can’t have the guests sitting out in the rain.

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