Mel woke up one Saturday, mentally preparing for the usual supermarket trip with Mum. If they were good, they might be able to get a comic and either Smarties or Fruit Pastilles, though Mel always chose Fruit Pastilles as they lasted longer. She would lick off the sugar and then spend ages dissolving the pastille in her mouth.

But it was quieter than usual. Mel would normally hear the kettle going for coffee.

‘Holly,’ she said, sitting up. Her sister was in the bed next to hers, wrapped in the duvet but with her legs sticking out as if she had been wrestling with it. Her eyes were closed, screwed up so Mel knew she was fake-asleep.

‘We don’t have to go to school,’ Holly said. ‘It’s Saturday.’

‘No,’ Mel said. ‘I think something’s up.’

They both got out of bed. Mel put on her pink fluffy slippers while Holly remained in the socks she had worn to bed which had once been white but since turned slightly grey. They went into their parents’ bedroom.

No one was in there. They heard the sound of the TV in the kitchen, their mum’s coughing. But then Mel noticed her dad’s big orange dressing gown was gone from the hook on the back of the bedroom door. Mel had never liked it much. It smelt bad, from his sweat and the occasional cigarette he’d have leaning out of the back door in the mornings. When Mel caught him smoking, she’d always tell him it was bad for his health.

He would just smile and shake his head. ‘Honestly, Mel. You’re a little policeman, aren’t you?’

Mel heard Holly run to the stairs, go part of the way down to look through the gaps in the banister into the kitchen before coming back to say all she could see was Mum staring into the distance.

His shaving stuff and his toothbrush were not in the bathroom.

‘Where are all his things?’ Holly said.

‘I don’t know,’ Mel said.

‘Where’s he gone?’

‘I don’t know.’

#

Fourteen years later, when Mel had phoned Holly, to tell her their dad had died, she had to hide her irritation at hearing people shouting in the background. It was obvious that Holly was at the pub, despite her always moaning that she didn’t have any money. And by the time Mel could properly hear Holly, when she left the pub to go outside, there was wariness in Holly’s voice.

‘How?’

‘A car accident,’ Mel said. ‘I don’t know the details. Lizzy rang Mum to tell her. I’m going across for the funeral. Will you come with me?’

‘Of course,’ Holly said.

The trip started badly. Mel hated doing things last minute, preferring to plan any trips months in advance, and knew she was annoying Holly.

‘Of course, I’ve got my passport,’ Holly told her. ‘I’m not an idiot. I knew I would need my passport.’

They arrived at Dublin airport in the rain. On a bus heading out to the suburbs, Mel pulled Holly’s sleeve to tell her when they had to get off, and they had a short argument about where to go. Mel was right and Holly pretended it was no big deal she’d got it wrong even though Mel could tell she was pissed off.

When they got to the right house, they waited a short while for someone to answer the door. Then a woman appeared who they recognised from photos taken ten years previously.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Melissa, isn’t it? And Holly?’

#

After finding their dad’s stuff gone, Mel had gone back to bed and buried herself under the covers. She finally pushed her hot face out from underneath the duvet and looked around. It had been a while and Holly had gone downstairs but not come back up. And then she smelt something. Bacon.

Mel headed downstairs, suddenly feeling cold after the warmth of being under the duvet. She went into the kitchen and saw Mum sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in front of her, the small portable TV showing the news. Mum was staring at it, dark circles under her eyes. She looked up as Mel walked in but didn’t say anything, just a small smile, and then turned her attention back to the TV.

Holly was cooking on the hob, a chair propped up to it so she could reach the frying bacon in a pan. She didn’t turn round to look at Mel. She then put the oily bacon on a plate and pushed it across the table. They watched their mum as she stared down at the plate. They were used to her barely eating anything, usually watery cup-a-soups and instant porridge overcooked in the microwave and covered with golden syrup.

Their mum picked up the bacon with her hands. Mel noticed the bacon was slightly charred.

But Mum took a bite and smiled. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’

#

Before the funeral, they all sat in the front room, no one saying much till Lizzy, their step-mother, said, ‘It was a shame your mum didn’t come.’

‘She’s not really up to the journey,’ Mel said. ‘She’s been ill for a while.’

‘Oh,’ Lizzy said.

‘And they were divorced,’ Holly asserted.

What caught Mel’s eye were the twins. They could only have been about 12. Their shirts buttoned up tight. They kept sniffing. It hadn’t occurred to Mel just how young they were.

‘That bastard BMW driver,’ Lizzy said. ‘Got away without a scratch on him. And he was the one who caused all this.’ And she started to cry.

It surprised Mel. She had assumed that the accident had been her dad’s fault.

#

The day he left, there was no supermarket trip, no hour spent bored while they pushed the trolley around. Instead, Mum went and retrieved her purse from her handbag in the hallway, where it was hanging up with the coats, and handed Mel a ten-pound note. Holly’s eyes nearly exploded. It was the most money they had ever been trusted with, the only times previously a pound or so to get milk, maybe a packet of biscuits.

‘Go and get yourselves some sweets from the shop. Then come home.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ they both said quickly. Ten pounds for sweets. It was enough money for them to completely ruin their teeth several times over.

‘But get dressed first,’ she said.

They flew out of the front door, running all the way. The shop was usually a ten-minute walk but they managed it in five. Mel held the note tightly with her hand in her pocket, fearful of it being blown away, of losing it.

When they got to the shop, they filled up two big bags of penny sweets, not having to bother counting them as they dropped them in with the small plastic shovel. They also got a box of chocolates for their mum. It cost five pounds but they thought it was worth it, as the adverts for it were always fancy.

#

At the funeral, Mel and Holly had been asked to sit at the front, which embarrassed Mel. She felt like an intruder.

The fact that they were in a church didn’t help. It was a revelation to her that Dad had any kind of religious affiliation at all. It was probably Lizzy who had been keen on it being in a church. Mel noticed that Lizzy had put on a veil. The boys cried quietly next to her. Holly and Mel were on the other side from them, the emptier, quiet side.

Holly looked behind and whispered in Mel’s ear. ‘There’s no one here we know.’

They only spent an hour at the wake. Mel made some attempt at small talk but Holly barely said anything, probably only speaking to a couple of people. Mel was irritated but understood. A few people admitted that they hadn’t known Dad had been married before or that he had any other children. Mel listened as they asked how often they’d seen him and how close they’d been. It was Holly who was quick to say they’d barely heard from him, stopping short of saying it was only the occasional phone call as and when he remembered.

On the plane coming back, Mel concluded, ‘Still, we made the effort, didn’t we?’

#

When Mel was six, her dad had taken her and Holly to the beach, a big treat. She didn’t remember her mum being there. The trip had probably been about giving her mum some downtime. Or her parents had started the day with an almighty row which neither of them was easily coming back from unless they spent some time apart.

Mel and Holly played in the sand, getting it everywhere, in their hair, their shoes, their mouths even. Mel remembered the sand under her fingernails for days, and not wanting to wash her hands, smelling the salt every time she put her fingers up her nose. They made sandcastles from an old plastic container someone had dumped on the beach, a pink one that had at some point contained candy floss from the fair. And then when they were exhausted and starving, their dad took them for chips, standing in line at one of the places along the seafront. The woman serving them had laughed at the girls, calling them sea beasts, and how Dad would be finding sand in his car till the end of time. He hadn’t seemed to care though. He’d never cared about stuff like that.

When they went over to the benches to eat the chips, the seagulls circled. Mel felt a rage rise in her; how dare they ruin this perfect day! But in remonstrating with them, she lost some of her chips to the ground. Her dad shook his head, and gave her a few handfuls of his own. She was so grateful, the start of tears in her eyes, and she leaned over and kissed his arm and told him she loved him.

He laughed. ‘Just for a few old chips, eh?’ he said.

#

On the day he left, after the sweets and when Mum had a lie down, Mel and Holly sat in front of the TV. As Mel drank her milk, in an attempt to wash some of the sugar away, Holly asked if she would ever get married.

‘I don’t know,’ Mel said. ‘Maybe. I want to have babies.’

‘You don’t have to be married to have babies.’

‘I know, but I’d still like to.’

‘I wouldn’t want to get married if it’s like this though. Is it always like this?’ Holly asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Even so, I don’t think I’ll get married.’

‘Don’t you want babies?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, it probably doesn’t matter then,’ Mel said. ‘Anyway, it might not always be sad.’

They watched the TV for a while, a film that they had seen many times before, that always seemed to be on a loop, on a Saturday afternoon every few weeks.

‘Dad is coming back,’ Holly said though it sounded like a question. Mel didn’t say anything.

‘I miss him,’ Holly said, finally. And she shuffled slightly over on the sofa, so she was a little bit closer to Mel and leaned the side of her head on Mel’s upper arm, their eyes still glued to the TV.