Maria's face flushed as we started our return journey to The House in The Hollow.

"That was horrible," she said, rearranging her hair across the offending eye.

"Did you feel anything leave you?"

"No, course not."

"Do you think it'll take the badness out that's causing the stye?" I

asked, hopeful.

We arrived at the pinnacle of the Half-Acre, the decline forcing us

to pick up pace, "Who knows, suppose it can't make it any worse." She turned to me and stooped down, "Does it look any better?"

I tippy-toed up, readying to look – but a physical force winded me, throwing me to the ground. I tried to get up, but with every exertion, I was dragged back down. It was as though I were in a dream wherein I couldn't run away from the unseen beast. In my confusion, I became aware of Maria, flailing, kicking, screeching. It was my right side I had no control of. A continual tugging dragged me along until a loud tearing sound released me.

Disorientated, I managed to find my feet with Maria's help. I looked down; my trousers were torn, my right leg exposed. Maria's voice gave me clarity, "What did you have in your pocket?" I followed her gaze; a dog hungrily guzzled the chop, along with my trouser pocket. I thrust my hand into my intact pocket and threw the contents towards the dog. "Town Granny's chop," I said, running swiftly down the hill onto the relative safety of the main street.

......

Maria and I stopped outside a small local post office. I immediately checked my left pocket, relieved to feel my Rosary Beads were still safe. When I looked at Maria, she was almost doubled up, clutching her stomach, laughing – the sight of her pleased me. 'Maybe Milly's cure had rid her of the tall-man,' I hoped.

When her mirth subsided, she straightened up, "Oh Gerard, what're you like; that dog could've had your whole leg," she took my hand and pulled me forward, my trouser leg flapping like a torn sail in the wind.

......

A kind of serenity enveloped me as I walked hand in hand with Maria along the main street.

The honk of a car caused us to look in the direction of a sleek black vehicle cruising to a halt beside us. The front passenger seat flew open, a smiley looking man leaned forward, "Tis the young Smiths home from England, isn't it?" he asked. Maria bobbed down to his level, her hand over her eye, "Yep, that's us." The man smiled, "I'm Pippy, a friend of your Granny's; jump in, I'll give yous a lift back out to Drumalee."

......

Sitting in the back seat of Pippy's car, I felt his warmth and kindness. His presence soothed me as he gently chuckled on hearing my choppy dog story, "That'll teach you to eat yer dinner," he said as we pulled up outside the house. "Tell your Granny I'll pick her up at the usual time for Bingo," he said by way of goodbye.

......

Maria rushed into the house, while I stopped to look at what was parked on the road to the left of the house – a pram. Looking it over, I knew it was the same one I'd seen on the half-acre, pushed by the man in makeup and his two female companions. Except, while then it had been empty, now it was full of junk.

Wondering if it had been dumped there, I entered the house to let Granny know – and in the dim light, I saw him again. On the middle chair by the stairs, flanked by his female friends, the man in makeup was sitting in silence, sipping water from a mug – while I stood, gawping.

Granny was in the scullery, while footfall above told me Maria was upstairs – I was alone with these people.

"Hello," I said.

"Well," they said in unison, nodding their heads.

Their response threw me, but I smiled without question.

The man took a sip, "You're the wee fella we met coming down the hill."

"Yes, I am."

He pointed to my trousers. "Did you have a fight with Lizzie's dog, or is that the latest fashion over in England?" he asked, causing the two ladies to lower their heads and giggle nervously.

I laughed with them, my stare still fixed on his face. I so wanted to ask him why he wore makeup. With that question on the tip of my tongue, I was grateful another fell out, "Where've you been?" I asked.

He was the spokesperson, "Over at the tip, rummaging," he said. He put the mug on the floor and rose, the two women rising with him. He looked into the scullery, "Thanks, Mrs Smith, we'll be going," he said, walking to the door, followed by his ladies in waiting.

Granny shouted after them, "Mind yourselves."

Immediately, I jumped on Lofty's chaise longue and watched as he manpowered the pram onto the road, the ladies walking behind in single file. The sight of them recalled another-worldly version of the Three Wise Men, bearing gifts to be delivered to an unknown deity. They enthralled me; their otherness elevated me. Their difference made me feel there was a place for me in the world.

......

When they were out of sight, I joined Granny in the scullery where she washed lettuce leaves under the tap.

"Did you see that man? He was wearing make-up," I said, sure she'd give me an explanation.

But instead, she shrugged, "What harm is he doing?"

"But men don't wear makeup," I shot back.

She shook out the lettuce, "That fella does. For one so young, you do think too much, Son," she said, putting the lettuce into a colander and going out into the back garden – leaving me reeling with questions and confusion.

......

I returned to Lofty's chaise longue, lay down and tried to fathom 115

why his appearance bothered me so. I knew he wouldn't be allowed to walk through my Manchester council estate with makeup on, without inviting scorn and possible violence from some. I wondered if the rules were different in Ireland.

But my ruminations on Makeup Man were interrupted by Maria bounding down the stairs. "You know what, Gerard, I think it looks a bit better; Milly's cure might be working," she said, pulling her hair back and thrusting her face in mine. "What do you think?"

I sat up, peering into her offending eye. I saw no change, yet lied to salve my sister, "Yep, it does look a bit better."

Cheered by my response, she beamed, "I don't think that eye shadow caused it. I think it's probably got something to do with what happened at the lagoon," her voice lifting.

I jumped off the chaise longue, "See, I knew something happened at the lagoon; what was it, tell me, please?"

My reaction induced an eye-roll in Maria and marked change in mood, "God Gerard, you can be such an annoying kid, you know!" She bounded up the stairs two by two.

Shocked by her reaction, I grabbed the Creepy comic and took myself off to the lagoon.

......

Sitting on a mossy stump, I opened Creepy. But I couldn't concentrate; the horror therein wouldn't divert me from the hurt I felt at Maria's outburst. She had never, ever raised her voice to me, let alone call me an 'annoying kid.'

Setting the Creepy down, I stood up, hoping Maria would come to find me, say sorry, and rationalise her change for me.

But she didn't.

Sitting back down, I stared at Creepy's cover. The central tall-man stared back at me, "What do you want with my sister?" I asked aloud. When there was no response, I looked skyward and shouted, "Crow, where are you? I need someone to talk to!"

But there came no, "Caw," the only sound the trickle of water, serenaded by the gentle rustle of trees as a wind began to gather.

The pages of my Creepy began to flutter and flap, finally resting open on the inner back page, which carried the advertisement for Sea Monkeys. The sight of them gladdened me, and I homed in to look closer. "I will have a Sea-Monkey family one day, and I'll look after you like the best daddy in the world," I said, closing the magazine and sticking it up my t-shirt to protect it from the droplets of rain that were beginning to fall.

With the sky darkening, I ran swiftly through the woodland to shelter from the rapidly brewing storm.