A- In the beginning, there was whiskey (Chapter one)

She is the girl that streaks, that laughs, that makes all the boys
go red. She dreams of stealing Diarmuid with a spell, she dreams of
finding a wicked side in Diarmuid's eyes. Drinking whiskey from a
bottle on the train, Grania casts a spell. They called her the
Catherine Wheel, they called her mad as dog's hat. But she doesn't
really care. Although she doesn't know her dad would sell his child for
life or money. And she was only six when she started blowing spells,
like other kids blew bubbles.


She was sitting at her desk, and she made her yellow pencil
sharpener jump into the air, just for second. She tried again, and
again, and then progressed onto her dinosaur ruler, and her
multicoloured pencil, until eventually she could lift her whole furry
blue pencil case off the desk, just by twitching her fingertips. The
day she was able to lift a spoon, dip it into the sugarbowl, and see it
float all the way across the kitchen to smother her brother's sausage
and chips, she knew she was a magician.
But not a perfect one. When spells went wrong, kites flew into walls,
windows shattered, and the dog turned pink. One afternoon at tea with
her grannie, she was trying to push the hands of the grandfather clock
forward, (because Thundercats was on at 5.30), but as she tried and
tried, the iron hands didn't move, but at the top of the grandfather
clock, one and then two and then three hamsters popped out, ran down
the side, and across the kitchen floor. Her grandmother screamed and
stood up on the kitchen chair, clutching her serviette and screeching
"Get rid of them!"
Grania grew up, and gave her brothers hamsters for Christmas every
year, and sometimes magic worked, and sometimes it didn't, and often it
produced small mammals, and it cast strange colours into her life. At
15 she could cast a spell and gatecrash all the bars. At 19 she was a
student who still kept the neighbours up all night with her bad spells.
Her red biker's jacket, big yellow coat and stripey socks were the
result of mopping up spells that had gone askew. She would laugh so
much she nearly wet herself, would choke on her tequila, slapping her
legs, as the tears ran down her face, at the things that happened when
magic escaped. She was as happy as a cat in the sun. Until Finn MacCool
offered the business proposition that made her parents jaws' drop,
first with shock, and then desire, as their eyes lit up at his
promises.
Finn MacCool, the old family friend who wore tweeds and a British
accent, although apparently he came from the Midwest. Who played Chopin
on Sunday evenings, lived above a toy museum, ran a courier firm and
liked beautiful objects, objects like Grania. The proposal, ludicrous
at first, was offered with a pay off of such generosity that all Mrs
Maguire's initial distaste melted, as she looked through her bank
statements and realised that it was perfect. It was ideal, it was a
sham wedding, and it meant tax evasion and residency for Finn, and a
future for the whole family. Even Grania, after tantrums, storming out
of the house for a week, and chucking the Shorter Oxford English
Dictionary through her bedroom window, sat and looked at the round
zeros on the cheques, and saw hoops that she could leap through to a
life of freedom.
It was just a year, then she could come home. It was crazy enough that
she could see it as a mad joke and would go along with it for the
champagne and the dress and her mothers exhausted face. She figured
when Finn was out of the frame she could just get on with her life, go
to New York, or Kashmir. Until, in her drunkenness she saw through
Finn's story, and saw in his diary the words "Dialysis" and
"Colostomy". And then she met Diarmuid.


Diarmuid. The wild card. Not yet the crazy artist with the
violin smile and the moon on his right cheek, but just a boy from who
had left school, who listened to the The Strokes, and believed he had
all the luck in the world and it would never run out. He could do
anything he wanted. He revelled in his luck and it spread with him. He
lay in bed dreaming adventures but he didn't expect them to happen that
night, at his best friend's, in Schull. Phil was Diarmuid's best mate
from primary school who'd moved to London, and brought back a London
accent and a crate of Duty Free.
Phil was a good condom, they always said, he always got between people
who wanted to get together. Diarmuid and Phil and Mark and a few of
their friends sat in the kitchen knocking back the Excelsior.
"Phil the magic condom, lived by the sea" they sang.
"What if my head" Phil said, "was on the end of your feet? And I had
to walk around all day upside down?
"My poor feet!"
The subject came up because they were lying head to toe, trying to fit
seven people on the sofa. Everyone declared their undying friendship
and lust for each other.
"Id lick your balls for three euro" said Phil, whose head was thrust
unfortunately towards Diarmuid's crotch.
"No, Five euro. No a hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred, can we get
three hundred?"
"Come on mate, we both know we'd do it anyway"
"Ok ten"
"Has anyone got ten euro?"
Then everyone gradually swam upstairs and fell into a jigsaw, and Mark
sat quietly singing the "bum tit bum tit" song under his breath, and
concentrating on finding the F of Pacific. So it was only Diarmuid left
blearily on the sofa when a sheep ran into the kitchen, gobbled up the
remains of the pear and custard pudding and then started crashing into
walls. After a collection of French plates shattered onto the floor,
Diarmuid realised that it really was a sheep.
"Oh shit." He picked up a broom to chase it but then it hid under the
table. And shat.
"Oh god. Phil?"
When everyone congoed into the kitchen and there was a pile of stinking
sheepshit under the table, and Diarmuid and the sheep were gone.



In the morning everyone looked like the Undead. They sat
with scrambled eggs and the quick crossword was too tricky and and Phil
moved the food to his mouth slowly.
"So Diarmuid, what exactly happened to you last night?"
"Mmmnn." Diarmuid snuggled deeper into his purple snugpak.
He remembered stumbling around the back of the garden, and a girl was
standing looking up at the sky, and she called him over to look for
shooting stars.
"Um, I'm looking for a sheep"
The girl in the garden, like the sheep, was made from the smoke of a
wizard's dream. She kissed him and as she touched his cheek something
burnt him.
"You know, whoever sees that will be crazy about you."
He swayed slightly. She was a little too close.
"Whoever sees it, they won't leave you alone."


Diarmuid got up and shuffled in his sleeping bag to the
bathroom, and looked at his face. His hair was everywhere. Just at the
top of his right cheek, there was a tiny pale moon.



Six months later, it was a Tuesday morning in August, and Grania was
looking in the mirror on her last day of unmarried life. She scowled at
herself. The light was gone so she lit a candle, and splashed water on
her face.
"Shite."
She brushed her teeth. Stared at herself, and at the day ahead, her
shrivelled future. If she married Finn, surely she would be as old as
him. With wrinkled skin, and bony fingers trying to open bottles of
pills. A cigarette butt smelling body. Wednesday nights? Dialysis, or
if she was lucky, a game of chess. He'll be in nappies soon. She saw
her eighty year old self looking back at her. Her scrappy blonde hair,
skinny legs, hobbit's feet. She saw Finn's toothless grin. The aged
Grania stood behind her, with a wrinkled face and frail hands. She was
wearing a royal blue dress with a brooch at the top. She stood and
appraised Grania, and then started opening drawers in the bathroom to
find a cigarette lighter.
"Cast that spell and see the light" she said through her
cigarette.
"Bring on the stars, bring on the night." She did a feeble Charleston
movement.
"Now go Grania, go." She was singing a quivering version of an old
song.
"Lets run away from the fire, and climb higher and higher. That old
prick can go to hell, so go Grania go."


The first time Grania cast the spell, the trees blossomed
teapots. She kept trying.


Diarmuid and Phil leant against the chapel wall while the
wedding organ played, and looked out smoking into the sun.
"Finn has to be the dodgiest, I mean the dodgiest bastard I've ever
worked for." Phil said. "Here, have some. But you can't say that round
here. He's God. Welcome to the pack."
They looked down the hill to the marquee. It stood in the middle of a
huge lawn, security guards in black stood round it.
"She looked white when she went in. I mean, he's older than her dad.
For fuck's sake."


They stood at the altar, Finn with his white hair under a top
hat, his wizened face grinning, his cold hand over Grania's arm. His
eyes twinkled.
"With my body, I thee worship."
"With my body I thee worship." she replied to the priest. She felt
faint as she looked ahead at the candles and the choir conductor
swooping her arms.
"My soul doth magnify the Lord"
The choir made a sweet sound.


"She said its better than working in Tescos." They stared
into space.
"Yeah. You know about"
"Oh yeah, yeah. Its a sham."
"Does everyone know?
"The tax thing?"
The organ blasted out of the church.
"Fuck, come on"
They stood up, fixed their ties, brushed the grass off their suits, and
started walking down to the chapel door.
"I just wouldn't trust that old git, yeah."


The old git's reception was filled with Finn's cronies, merry
and drunk, and six year olds who weaved between their legs and tried to
nick glasses of champagne, and round the back, Diarmuid found Grania
crouching on the grass.
"Hey." She was in hysterics.
"Will you come for a walk?"
She got up and they started walking across the lawn.
"They said its just a fucking deal, so he can stay here, but I just
don't - I know once he's got me he won't let me fucking out."
"Grania, that's just your-"
"No one listens - My parents have ignored it, all they care about is
the money. No one trusts me - I overheard them saying oh it's ok she'll
go along"
"But listen-"
"Don't take his side"
"Grania, why don't you-"
"That's it. That's fucking it. I'm going to kill him. I'll be a fucking
dowager. No, fuck it, I'm leaving. All they care about is fucking Finn
and keeping up fucking appearances. No one will fucking help me."
He put an arm around her.
"Diarmuid. Its fucked." she started laughing. "Its not funny though.
You have to help me."


Her drunken words were magic, a door snuck open, and the
lovers just had to go through. It's amazing what seven fuck spells can
do. The morning after the wedding, Finn was snoring in his top hat. The
light was on, he was wearing his tails and his shoes. Grania's mother
stood in the doorway and scratched the side of the door with her
fingernail.
"Good morning Margaret,"
"Grania's disappeared."
"What?" He sat up.
"She's gone. I've been ringing her phone all morning." Finn threw all
the books from the dresser on the floor and put his head in his
hands.
"She'll be back by night. The stupid girl. Its typical of her, just
attention seeking. Don't you think, Peter?"
He hovered by the door and said nothing.
"Oh shut up. Stupid girl. Answer your phone. She's going to have hell
to pay when she gets back. Will everyone just shut up and let me think
for one minute. I can't get a moments peace."
She slammed the kitchen door behind her.


They sped up the motorway, jumped on the ferry, and laughed
on deck as the wind whipped away Grania's wedding dress, and it
disappeared into the ship's wake. They drove through Wales for two days
until they found a tiny campsite in forest with a stream.
"Night night."
"Night Diarmuid. You know, one kiss wouldn't get me pregnant."
"Night Grania."
There were good catholics, and then there was Diarmuid, whose mother
bought him his underpants and advised him to wear several pairs at a
time. In the morning they walked over the bridge by the campsite.
"Diarmuid, I'm just going to wash in the stream. Will you stand and
make sure no one's looking."
She perched on the bank.
"Oh my god! Its freezing."
He studied the map.
"Can I go in yet? Oh Fuck. Oh. My Fu- It's amazing!"
Diarmuid looked at the geological formations on the hills while she
swam.
"Do you have a towel? Thanks." She stood beside him. "You know the
water is so much bolder than you are"
"I think that stone is Mesozoic."


A week passed. Geological formations were commented on.
"Two tents as usual?"
"Y-"
"Its just that it takes so much longer to put up both. Would it not be
easier.."
"Night Grania"
They went to bed.
"Diarmuid? Diarmuid, are you awake?"
He stayed still.
"Diarmuid, please wake up, I'm really freaked out. Diarmuid"
He stared at the ceiling. A month passed.



"Here, would you come and read me a story?" They were in Nantes. He
sat beside her in the tent and read to her with his Maglite, and put an
arm round her shoulders. He read a story about a cow with three legs
stuck in a bog. She reached out her hand, until it crossed the million
miles to his face, and felt him tense away from her. Oops, thought
Grania, and paused. Oh, what the hell, he thought, and dropped the
book, and put his other arm around her waist.






The laws of magic, it turns out, are stronger than those of science.
Diarmuid knew practically nothing about romance, and Grania knew
nothing at all. But between falling down tents, condensation on the
roof, waking up to cold feet, and being interrupted by cows, they made
a kind of paradise. One afternoon, lying in a field, Grania opened her
eyes, and saw first one and then two, and then three, and finally
twelve cows above them, looking down with benevolent gazes, and
wondering what they were doing. In total their love making was
witnessed by
Two foxes,
a herd of deer,
four hundred and twenty three cows,
an extended family of scarecrows,
and a goat.
They found a cottage in the forest by a lake and made love all
afternoon. At night, they drank baileys to keep themselves warm.
"You're the top" he sang to her, "You're a stripey zebra,"
"You're a crepe, you're a lemon squeezer"
"You're calloo callay"
"You're a pole in May!"
"I'm a what?"
"Babe, if I'm the bottom you're the top."
"You're the top, she replied, "You're salsa.
A cherry tree, blooming in December,"
"You're Dr. Zeuss, a chocolate mousse
"I'm a flop"
"You're a Keogh's scone, you're the top!"
They continued:
"Gran, you're a firecracker,"
"You're the ring of Kerry,"
"You're the mad hatter,"
"Whatever you choose, you're Aladdin's shoes, you're toast on
cheese"
"I am not."
"You're antifreeze"
"You're a forest of Christmas trees,"
"You're Antifreeze"
"You're a Teddy's flake"
"And a Bailey's lake"
"The Top!"


And their rhymes got drunker, and they gave up singing and
lay on the grass and their heads filled with drink. They were floating
in their Bailey's baths.
"You know what?"
"What's that Gro,"
"I'm a magician"
"A wizardess. With magical powers" But Grania suddenly felt sick.
"D".
"Uh huh"
"We're being followed. Get up, we're going to have to make some
adjustments to the car".



I always wanted a white horse, but she only knows how to turn things
into hamsters or badgers. She has a predilection for turning her
enemies into vermin. I think it's a bit rude. I could have kept them
but what do you feed them? Its better if Finn's men don't get too
close. It turns out they're on our tails, they're built like beefsteak
and they saw people in half. So that's where Brian comes in. Our car -
well, Grania's car, the Morris Minor, he's a stroke of luck. My
favourite spell is this little plastic snowscene that sits on the
dashboard. It has a blue background and little reindeers playing
violins. When I shake it, nothing changes on the inside, but from the
outside the car disappears into a snowstorm. That's just for
emergencies. If its freak weather in July, that's us. Luckily Finn's
men are as subtle as trucks. The main guy, John though, who is
enormous, and wears a purple shirt over a black t-shirt, and has the
look of a human sniffer dog- he's a little hard to get rid of.
Once we had to use the snowscene on him. His car came out of nowhere,
came right up behind us. Only I shook it so much that the tiny
reindeers flew out of the car window and crashed onto the windscreen of
his car. After that we got the cuttlefish. Smaller scale. We called him
Albert. He changes colour in a second, So you point at him once, then
at the car, and its instantly camouflaged. When it goes wrong, it goes
horribly wrong. We camouflaged Brian next to a pig farm once, the spell
got stuck, so we had drive around for a week with pot bellied pigs
rolling around the outside of the car. But our best getaway was
discovered by accident. We were wondering where to go next and I
said
"Turkmenistan"
"Mexico"
"Kashmir"
"Abergevenny"
"The federated republic of Micronesia"
We said "Micronesia" at the same time. And then, at the next road sign



TOULOUSE 42
MARSEILLES 245
MONTAUBAN 12
MICRONESIA 3?


Grania didn't look up from her map. A couple of minutes down
the road, there was a little brown wooden sign.


Micronesia, 1?


I took the turn, and I drove up the sideroad, and I suddenly
thought my pants were on fire. Grania screamed and ducked, and
everything in front of the windscreen went bright white. We were in a
cloud, I could hear a motorbike revving up and a bicycle bell. And then
we were driving on a dirt track. There was sea on the right hand side,
and mango trees on the left.
"Jessica Crumbs." I stopped the car, and told Grania, who in the
emergency landing position, that she could come out.
"Gro, check out the beach."
"Not moving."
"You have to."


Brian was an old granddad of a car, but a granddad with blue
Elvis boots. He did have a thing for seaside resorts, and always tried
to take us to Brittas Bay or Bournemouth when we wanted to go to
Budapest. He would snooze in the shade while we swam or lay in the sand
and felt the breeze on our toes. We still ate cheese sandwiches in the
car. We still ran out of petrol, Grania shrank my clothes, and we had
burnt bacon sandwiches nearly every morning. I got a false ginger
moustache stuck on for weeks. Some of our disguises weren't great.
Bras, what are they about? I had to have oranges down my front for days
pretending to be Mrs Ursula Westbury. Our holiday pictures look a bit
strange, because there are different people on each page. One day we
got the spells mixed and had to sit in a caf? dressed as Spiderman and
Wilma Flintstone all day, and nearly got done for indecency, and that
was when we had to use the snowstorm - its difficult to merge into the
background when your dressed for the jungle and for a beano album. But
we were happy. One day we took the car up into the mountains. We ate
apple and toffee crumble at a caf?. I felt completely content. There
was an old philosophers house in the forest. The house was as he had
left it, with his paintings of the mountains. He had a Bentley in the
garage. A beautiful, stealable car. But we stayed with Brian. Then one
day, Grania told me she was pregnant.