Lifesaving for Beginners

‘What’s that?’
    ‘It’s like swimming only you get to rescue people who are drowning. And you get to do CPR on them.’
    ‘What’s CPR?’
    ‘It’s like the kiss of life.’
    Ed laughs. I think it’s because I said ‘kiss’. Damo laughs too, when I say that. He says it would be legend to do CPR on a girl but he’d never do it to a boy. I say, ‘What about if a boy was drowning?’ but Damo just says, ‘Tough nuts.’
    Ed says, ‘I go to swimming classes too. Kat brings me. I’m great at swimming. I came second last time.’
    ‘Is Kat your sister?’
    ‘Yeah. She’s brilliant. She brings me swimming and loads of other places too.’
    ‘Why’d you call her Kat?’
    ‘Because that’s her name.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Kat is Faith’s mother.’
    ‘Her birth mother.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘I’m not sure.’
    The walls of the den are covered in framed photographs. Ed is in most of them.
    ‘Who’s that?’ I point to a picture of Ed, holding up a medal. He’s standing between a man and a woman beside a swimming pool. The woman looks like Faith, except she’s old. She’s got the same black hair and the same green eyes and the same white skin. She’s smiling like Faith used to. She’s got her arms round Ed.
    Ed says, ‘That’s Kat and me and Thomas. I only came third that time. I had a cold.’
    ‘Is Thomas Kat’s husband?’
    Ed says. ‘He’s Kat’s friend. Except they’re not friends anymore. They had a fight. I’d say they’ll make up soon. That’s what me and Sophie do, when we fight.’
    ‘Who’s Sophie?’ Faith calls me ‘Twenty Questions’ sometimes but I don’t think Ed minds. He points to a photograph of a girl wearing tiny round glasses and a tracksuit. She is holding a medal in her hands but I can’t see if it’s gold, silver or bronze because the photograph is in black and white. Ed says, ‘She’s my girlfriend,’ but I don’t ask if he French-kisses her, like Damo would.
    Ed says, ‘She’s got Down’s Syndrome too.’
    I say, ‘What’s Down’s Syndrome?’
    Ed says, ‘I’m not sure.’
    The grandfather says, ‘Boys, come down for something to eat.’
    I’m starving. We forgot to have lunch, me and Faith. Well, I had an apple and cinnamon muffin with icing on the top but that doesn’t count.
    The table is like a table in a restaurant. It’s really long so you keep having to ask people to pass this and pass that. There are napkins that are not kitchen roll. And there’s a glass beside my plate. A proper glass, that will break if I drop it.
    Faith is sitting across from Leonard and his wife, whose name is Janet. I know because she said, ‘Call me Janet,’ when I arrived.
    The grandfather says, ‘And what genre of music does your band play, Faith?’
    ‘Well, I suppose you could call it garage rock.’
    ‘Oh. Is that a bit like rock and roll?’
    ‘Sort of.’
    Ed sits down and looks at his plate. ‘I don’t like fish.’
    The grandfather says, ‘It’s good for your heart.’
    Janet turns to Faith. ‘Do you write your own songs?’
    Faith nods. ‘Some of them.’
    Janet picks up her knife and fork. ‘I write too.’
    The grandfather says, ‘Ah, yes, so does Kat, as a matter of fact. She’s a technical writer, you know. For a company in Cork.’
    Faith says, ‘A technical writer?’ like she’s never heard of it, which is good because I’ve never heard of it either.
    Janet cuts a green bean in four even pieces and spears one of the pieces with her fork. ‘Yes, well, we’re not entirely sure what that means, exactly, but it’s something to do with instruction manuals for appliances. Dishwashers and tumble-dryers. That sort of thing.’
    The grandfather gets up. ‘I’ll try her again quickly. Before we eat.’ He leaves the room.
    I don’t like fish either, unless you count fish fingers. Mam always said they were more finger than fish.
    Janet looks sort of like a ballerina. She’s got a bun and she’s dead skinny for a granny. I don’t have any grannies but I’ve seen other people’s grannies and they’re usually pretty fat, no offence.
    You never see fat ballerinas on the telly. They’re like matchstick people that kids draw. A line for their bodies. Janet is like that. She’s quiet too. Even when she talks, she’s quiet.
    She says, ‘So, er, Milo. What class are you in?’
    ‘Year five,’ and I get ready to tell her what my favourite subject is (science) and who my best friend is (Damo), except I won’t say