His Father's Son: To save the son he loves, a desparate father must confront the ghosts of his past by Tony Black

he thought about the home he had left and he wondered what was going to happen to him and Mam in Ireland with no Dad there to look out for them.
    “Mam,” said Marti.
    “Yes, son.”
    “Do you think Dad will be sad all by himself in Australia?”
    Mam said nothing, only looked out the window, and Marti saw she had the cross face. Marti didn’t want to be asked if it was the hot arse he was after again so he stayed quiet, but he didn’t stop thinking about Dad. He was very sad when he thought about Dad and he wished he could see him again. He wished Dad was with him, but wouldn’t that only make Dad more sad because he didn’t like Ireland, he liked Australia, which was God’s country. Marti decided he wouldn’t like Ireland either because he wanted to like what Dad liked and because he thought that would make Dad happy. More than anything in the world Marti wanted to make Dad and Mam happy, but he couldn’t see how anybody could be happy so far away from the place they called home.
    When the train stopped Mam said this was the country now and they could be thankful they were well away from the city that was called the Smoke, for the fresh air was everywhere in the country just waiting for you to take a big gulp for yourself. Marti took a big gulp of the fresh air that was everywhere and then Mam said, “Would ye ever stop acting the maggot.”
    The town they were headed for was called Kilmora, said Mam, but it wasn’t a proper town. It was just a village, really. Marti didn’t know what she meant until she said it was like a town, only smaller, and in the country. He wondered if it was far away and Mam said no, because the distances between places were less in Ireland than in Australia, and weren’t Australians great for suffering the old tyranny of distance malarkey and there would be none of that here.
    Mam said Aunt Catrin and Uncle Ardal mightn’t be home, but if they were then surely there would be a bed for the night and maybe even longer.
    Aunt Catrin and Uncle Ardal’s house was very small and grey and made of stones all piled up on top of each other right to the roof. There was a little wooden shed that made a coo-coo noise and when Marti asked what was that, Mam said it was Uncle Ardal’s pigeons. There were rabbit traps hanging on the shed that Mam said were to keep the cats away from the pigeons, and Marti felt sorry for any cat that might get caught in one of the traps.
    When Mam knocked on the door there was the sound of footsteps and then the door was opened and a woman in a long grey coat with a scarf on her head appeared and said, “Saints preserve us, tis yourself.”
    Aunt Catrin was older than Mam and had the big staring eyes when she looked at them with the surprise. When she sat down she didn’t sit back on the chair, which had a little white patch for your head to rest on. Aunt Catrin had a very straight back when she sat down and when she took off her scarf she touched her mouth with it. “I don’t know what to say. Would you ever look at yourself, sitting there in my own home,” she said. “And this’ll be the boy, is it?”
    “Tis, Catrin. This is Marti. Say hello to your Aunt Catrin.”
    “Hello,” he said.
    “Would you listen to him, sure he’s an Aussie.” Aunt Catrin sounded as though she didn’t like him, thought Marti, and he wondered if she hated only him or all children and was that why she hadn’t any herself. “And the father, where’s he?” said Aunt Catrin.
    “Will I wet some tea, Catrin?” said Mam.
    “Tea, yes, tea. It will help me gather my thoughts, sure won’t the whole town be in shock at the sight of ye.”
    When she had her tea Aunt Catrin said it was hardly cause for a sing-song but there was a caravan sitting empty outside. It was just a bit of tin and paint, she said, but then beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially the type that turn up on yeer doorstep unannounced after a lengthy absence.
    When it was bedtime Aunt Catrin said if yees