Intruder

I awake to smoulder, cinders,

the fire cooling in the grate

and to a clatter in the hallway.

I stay still,

curl myself into a ball

like I might

blend in with the paisley-patterned rug.

There is muttering

and someone ascending the stairs.

A light.

Quickly

I crawl

behind the sofa,

try not to breathe.

A rattling around;

drawers in Marla’s room opened,

slammed shut,

wardrobes raided.

You need to come here, Donal snaps,

and at first I think he might be summoning me,

but he goes on.

I’m rooting through her knicker drawer.

I don’t want to see my mum’s knickers.

You’ve gotta come here.

Or she’s gotta go to you.

She needs a woman.

She can’t take care of herself

and I haven’t time for it, Louise.

If Mary was alive I’d ask her

but she isn’t.

I don’t want to burden you, I just …

He’s on the phone.

Collecting things for the hospital.

Donal’s here doing what I could have done

if I hadn’t been so thoughtless,

squandering time feeling sorry for myself

instead of being helpful.

Yeah, well, I’m at the end of my rope

and I’ve been saying for a long time

that she doesn’t need this house.

Something has to give.

He searches a while longer,

clanging, banging,

no attempt to treat Marla’s home gently,

and then he is gone,

not bothering to give the house

a once over,

but warning me nevertheless

that my time here is

running

out.