The Happiest Days
Cressida Connolly
Language: English
Pages: 192
ISBN: 0312283237
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Even happy days come to an end. In this remarkable collection, Cressida Connolly explores the lives of children and young people who, in the wake of events that alter everything, find themselves changed forever. A conversation on a trip to the zoo heralds the end of a family; a boy watches his father fold Aunt Rose into his arms and loses his vocation; a young girl grows jealous of the attention paid to her dying sister. Each of these perfectly crafted stories examines familiar emotions—love, loss, jealousy, loneliness—with a fresh eye. The Happiest Days is an exciting, original, startling debut.
nurse was nice to me. After I’d said I would help my sister everyone was nice to me, for quite a while. The nurse gave me a boiled sweet. She let me rummage in the packet until I found a purple one. After that we went home and then when the result came everything started happening quickly: once they’d found out that my blood was like Caitlin’s they were in a hurry to give her the treatment. I felt quite proud of the fact that I was the best possible match for her. It meant that I would go into
when none of us were about. She was always going into my room, into my stuff. Mum said that Pauline had been through a very difficult time in her family of origin and that she’d get better, eventually, if she was given clear enough boundaries. My mum talks like that. But she didn’t. I reckon she just got worse. After Pauline, me and dad went on strike, sort of. It was then that we all needed a break. It’s brilliant having the house to ourselves, anyway – not having to queue up for the bathroom,
occupied most of the available space. ‘Do I?’ ‘Course. Right’s the conscious, the reason. You’re not a bloke, but your right’s like the masculine side, yeah? Left’s more the magical side, the lunar and that. The feminine. It’s more like your intuition.’ ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about that. You seem to know an awful lot about the symbolism of it all.’ ‘Yeah, well. I’m into ancient history – alchemy, and that.’ ‘Which side do you think?’ ‘S’up to you.’ The tattooist unwrapped a stick
path forked down to the sea. I didn’t want to think about why she was so upset. I was half afraid it might have had something to do with my father and the way he’d held her that morning in the half-light. But what worried me even more was that she might have been crying about Granny. Maybe Granny wasn’t ever going to get better. Maybe I’d never be able to stay with her again. I’d have to be with my mother and father all the time and it wouldn’t be cosy any more, always with my parents. I did love
like a tiny baby’s fingers. The anemones above the water were tight shut, clinging to the rock; black like pieces of shiny wet liquorice, or bleached pale as spat-out chewing gum. Everything looked so clean. Reflections of the clouds scudded across the surface of the pool; when I put my hand into the water they disappeared. I wished that I could stay there for ever, just looking at things. But we went home the next day. None of this is what made me decide I didn’t want to be a priest, after