Lifesaving for Beginners

Damo till we’re teenagers. Kids say ‘fuck’ all the time but it sounds way worse when an adult says it. I don’t know why.
    I say, ‘This is Milo McIntyre. Is that Kat?’ I spent ages wondering what I should call her. Mrs Kavanagh? Or Miss? Or Katherine, like her mam calls her? But, in the end, I decided to call her Kat, like Ed does.
    She doesn’t say anything for so long that I think maybe she’s hung up or something, so I say, ‘Are you still there?’
    She says, ‘Who is this?’
    I’ve already told her that I’m Milo McIntyre but I say it again anyway. She might wear a hearing aid, like Mrs Barber. In a loud whisper I say, ‘THIS. IS. MILO. McINTYRE.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Milo McIntyre.’
    ‘Do you know what time it is, young man?’
    Adults only ever call you ‘young man’ when they’re annoyed with you. Miss Williams calls Damo ‘young man’ all the time.
    I look at my watch. ‘It’s oh-one-twenty.’ Sully taught me and Damo the way you say the time in the army. People sound older when they say it like that.
    There is a pretty long pause and I can tell she’s thinking about what to say next, so to save her the trouble, I say, ‘I’m ringing because of Faith. I’m Faith’s brother. Well, I’m not really her brother anymore, except that I still feel like I’m her brother. And she’s still taking care of me and she still sort of feels like my sister, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to call her my half-sister now, like when Celia’s baby comes along. Or half-brother, if he’s a boy.’
    ‘Jesus, slow down will you?’
    I don’t know why I said all that stuff about Faith. It’s not anywhere on the page where I’ve written what I’m supposed to say so I won’t forget anything.
    ‘Sorry.’ She sounds cross.
    ‘Milo. That’s your name, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes.’ I already told her that. Loads of times.
    ‘You’re Faith’s brother, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes.’ I don’t say any of the stuff about half-brothers or half-sisters again.
    ‘Milo, look—’
    ‘You sound like my mam.’ Sometimes, you end up saying things you never meant to say. Like Kat sounding like Mam. That’s not on my page either. But it’s true. She says my name just the same. With loads of O at the end.
    ‘Do I?’
    ‘Yes. Mam was from Ireland. Just like you. From Galway. Do you know Galway?’
    ‘Eh, yes.’
    ‘She lived in Galway and then she went to London and she met Dad and they both lived in Galway for a while. After they got married. Six years I think. And then they got Faith. She was eighteen months old. Dad said Faith was a baby when they got her, but eighteen months is one and a half and I think that’s more like a toddler, don’t you?’
    ‘Ah . . . I don’t . . . I suppose . . . I haven’t really given it very much thought.’
    ‘Did you give away any other babies? Besides Faith, I mean?’ Nobody else has thought about this, but Faith could have loads of other brothers and sisters she doesn’t know about. Or half-brothers and half-sisters.
    She doesn’t say anything for a while and I’m just about to say, ‘Hello? Are you still there?’ when she says, ‘No, I didn’t. It was just . . . it was one baby. It was Faith.’
    ‘Do you have any other children? Ones you didn’t give away, I mean?’ They’d still be Faith’s half-brothers or half-sisters, wouldn’t they?
    ‘No.’
    She sounds dead tired all of a sudden. I’m worried that she might say she has to go so I look at my notes and I begin. ‘Do you think you could come over? To Brighton? That’s where we live. I think Faith might be happy again if she got to see you. And if she’s happy again, then Dad won’t make me go to Scotland to live with him and Celia and the new baby.’
    The lady says nothing so I go right on talking.
    ‘I mean, Dad and Celia are fine and everything and I’m sure it’ll be nice to have a new baby half-brother or half-sister. It’s just . . . I won’t get to see Damo every day. Or Carla. Or go to my lifesaving classes.’
    Kat coughs, like there’s something stuck in her throat. She says, ‘I’m sure there must be lifesaving classes in Scotland.’
    ‘They wouldn’t be the same.’
    She says, ‘I know what you mean,’ and the way she says it, it’s like she really does know.
    ‘So you’ll come?’
    She must have been holding her breath because now she lets out the biggest, longest breath you ever heard. I bet she’s got huge lungs. She can probably hold her breath