The Serpent's Skin

My voice went up, an edge in it.
‘Yep,’ he said, like he’d been paying attention all along.
Tessa kicked me under the table.
I kicked her back. ‘When’s Mum gunna call again?’
He grunted.
‘Dad?’
‘What?’
‘Mum.’
He brought his great hammer of a fist down on the table. The salt and pepper shakers jumped out of their skins. ‘How the hell would I know?’ he thundered. ‘How am I supposed to get inside the workings of your mother’s head? Why does any sane woman up and leave her husband with a litter of kids? It’s not right. She’s a selfish b—’ He stopped himself just in time.
None of us moved. Dad never said a bad word about Mum. Ever.
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ Philly finally said. ‘Aunty Peg’ll be right in a couple of days.’
‘She’ll call when she can,’ he said, all mild again, as if Philly hadn’t said a word.
We got back to the business of eating, not daring to look at each other. I waited until he was up to his cuppa for my next go.
‘Dad, can we take Mum’s things to her?’
‘She’s got everything she needs,’ Dad said, all final and no more to be said on the matter.
I pushed my chair back, tipping it over. The sound of it clattering behind me as I sped into Mum’s room, raced back out. ‘What about her weddin ring, then?’ I asked, holding it up.
‘Shit.’ He looked at each of us in turn. ‘Where’d ya get that?’
‘It was on her bedside table.’
He glared, and then it was like his glare came undone and his eyes got lost.
I picked up the chair and sat in it, closing my fingers over Mum’s ring.
‘Hell of a rush, she said.’ Dad’s voice was low and gravelly. ‘Must have forgotten it behind.’ He had his eyes back under control and had them staring out the window.
I left it go for a while, then I began again. ‘Dad.’
It was him and the winter grey outside the window all wrapped up together.
‘Dad,’ I said again.
We held our breath.
‘Dad.’
‘Clear up, JJ,’ said Tessa, standing up to stop me. ‘Your turn to wash.’
‘DAD,’ I yelled. His hand started trembling on the table and I was quick sorry.
‘We have to get her ring to her,’ I said, tripping over the words cause I had to get them out before I thought better of them. ‘You know how she says she’s all naked without it.’
‘And you know we don’t have the petrol.’ He said it in this low and dirty voice as if it was all my fault. But even though he was looking right at me, I got the idea that it wasn’t me he was talking to.
‘We should get the petrol from Mr Kennedy,’ I said. ‘Cause what if she’s not at Aunty Peggy’s any more? If she’s gone somewhere else? She might need us to find her.’
‘Stop talking rot.’
‘Can we call her, then?’
‘Your mother’s a busy woman, JJ. She’ll call when she can. That Peg’s a mad old coot. Especially when she’s high as a kite.’
I swapped a look with Tim. This was a lot of talking for the old man. He was acting all weird again.
‘Reckon she’d have time for one phone call,’ I said, pushing.
Tessa saw Dad was about to blow so she grabbed me by the shoulder and hiked me off the seat. ‘Stop your bloody lawyering on.’ She shoved the plates into my hand and pushed me towards the sink.
Dad didn’t even say anything about her swearing.
I didn’t either. I was too busy screwing my eyes up tight, tight, to keep it all inside. Tessa had said the thing Mum always said to me, but coming out of Tessa’s mouth it didn’t sound right.

THE STORY JACK TELLS
Early Sunday I was in my school uniform and Philly was in hers, ready for Mass. She didn’t like it, but since we didn’t have any good clothes, Mum always made us wear our uniforms. Philly sat, hands clasped, arms long across the kitchen table, like she was in school and waiting for the teacher to give her a gold star.
‘What’s got you all extra prim and proper?’ asked Tim as he hurtled out of his room towards the front door, ready. Philly shook her head. Once and then twice, with a wait like a full stop at the end of each one. Tim stopped short and grinned. He crossed his arms and leaned against the cupboard, waiting for the show to begin.
Tessa came in from outside with the egg-collecting tin. ‘This is your job, Philly. Just because Mum’s away.’ She put the tin on the bench and looked at Tim, then tracked back to Philly, suspicious. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Waiting, like I should be,’ Philly said, her chin tilting up just that bit too much.
‘Never known you to “wait”.’ Tessa had her fingers all quoted up. ‘Give us a look at you.’
Philly shook her head, twisting her legs under her stool, eyes bulging out of sockets with the worry of it.
Dad blasted on the horn outside. Tessa marched over to Philly and hauled her out of her chair by the back of her school jumper. Tim saw it straight away. I followed his eyes to Philly’s feet. It took Tessa a few seconds longer to get there, but when she did she didn’t waste a second. ‘Get them off,’ she barked.
Mum couldn’t have done it better.
Philly shook her head. Dad blasted on the horn twice more. Philly started for the door.
‘There’s no way on God’s good earth—’ more Mum words from Tessa’s mouth—‘that you are wearing party shoes to Mass.’
‘Just this once,’ I said.
‘You butt out, Miss Troublemaker.’
Philly half ran to reach the door.
Tessa stretched a hand out to yank her back. ‘Get her school shoes,’ she threw over her shoulder at me.
‘Get em yourself.’ I pointed to the hearth where Philly’s were the only shoes left. She’d pushed them under the newspaper but the toe of one still peeped out.
‘You’re where she gets