Blue Note

Jacqueline was the pretty one. Everyone said so. On Saturday mornings, the two girls went shopping for their mother. The fishmonger, the baker and the grocer. Teresa peered through the glass of the Tudor shop fronts—the window displays of buttons made into the shape of a lady at the haberdashery and the glass bowls of … More Blue Note

The Bridge

I had one clear memory of my brother, Seamus. He was hunched over the kitchen table, drawing in a visual diary with a fineliner. Tawny tendrils of hair hung over his face, his lips clamped in concentration. One morning he went for a walk and never came back. My parents glued missing posters on trees … More The Bridge