What do you think?
Rate this book


Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
Thursday 1969
The Troubles started on a Thursday. At six o’clock at night. And seven whole days later, for Amelia was counting, she could hardly believe it, for here they were, still going on.
“In my first book, No Bones, the critics seemed to think I was writing about a dysfunctional family to show up the dysfunctional society, but it was actually the other way round. The Troubles was the backdrop and the family stuff felt more important and urgent. I think it’s because I’ve resolved something about family issues that I can now do the “bigger” issue – which actually, for me, is the lesser issue.”
“They could go to this place, whatever it was, have this thing, this daytrip, then come back and be themselves again at the end. It wasn’t as if they’d lose anything. It wasn’t as if their lives would be transformed by one, singular, extraneous outing. It wasn’t as if their long established, insular identities which they relied upon so heavily, could be ravaged and taken away from them just like that. So yes, they decided a day trip was within reason, just so long as they could come back and be miserable later on.”
A few things happened at the same time. First there was that film starring Robert De Niro, the one that had the Russian roulette in. Then there was that treasurer fella from Sinn Fein, the one who was supposed to be minding all the money but who was secretly spending it instead. Finally there were the fed-up and easily bored delinquents, who took it upon themselves to dress up and muck around and pretend to be vigilantes for a day. These three things came together the way three things generally do and produced a fourth, unexpected thing. Some in the know though, said that was a load of rubbish, that the fourth had nothing to do with the other three, that it was a long time coming, but in the end, it would have happened anyway.
Amelia, looking a lot better than she'd looked in a long time, in fact ever, recklessly continued to throw out ideas and suggestions without seeming to think once about the consequences.
"I mean just that," she said, looking round, a big smile on her face which must have been an accident, nothing like it ever having happened on Amelia Lovett's face before. "A day out," she said. "We can go sightseein', go to the beach, the hills, stroll about, not worry, take fresh air, buy sticks of rocks, have tea in teashops, those sorts of things, relaxing sorts of things, all sorts of things. Why don't we?"
Unbelievable. Inconceivable. And what exactly did she mean by 'not worry'? They backed off, for Amelia was different. And she'd been in hospital in England, they'd heard. Not just an ordinary hospital either. A mental sort of hospital.