Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

HEY LITTLE DARLIN'

APRIL 3RD 2003

TARA

"You okay?" Katie's voice reached me gently. I felt her hand cover mine, her touch warm and reassuring. "You look very tired, Tara. Are you sleeping well?"

"I'm fine, Kitty Kat," I replied, forcing a half-smile that barely reached my eyes. "It's my Granda."

"Granda Murphy?"

"He claims he's as strong as a bull, but Nanny says he's been getting sick more often."

"He's ninety years old, Tara. Many people wish they could live to his age."

I looked down, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. "I just... I don't want him to... you know," I trailed off, my voice faltering. "Nanny would be terribly lonely without him."

You'd be terribly lonely without him, too.

"It's Sunday," Katie said, her tone brightening with a hint of cheerfulness. "Aren't you supposed to have lunch with them today?"

My great-grandparents and I had a long-standing tradition of sharing Sunday lunches after Mass. When Darren, Joey, Shan, and I were younger, those afternoons at their house were filled with laughter and shared stories. But since our traitor of a brother decided to abandon us, Joey had stopped coming. Now, Granda and Nanny Murphy had been consistently present for Shan, Tadhg, and Ols, although I was the only one who kept up the tradition like clockwork.

I cherished those moments: sipping coffee with Nanny and listening to Granda's vinyl records as we argued about which music group was superior. Nanny always claimed that Granda liked to start arguments but never finish them, a sentiment that never failed to make me smile.

"You should tag along," I suggested, checking the time and gathering my books from Katie's bed. "Granda says he misses his favorite redheaded Beatles fan."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense," I said, shaking my head firmly. "You know Nanny cooks for a bleeding army, and she loves having you over. Seriously, you won't be a bother."

Katie Horgan-Wilmot was one of my closest friends, a shy, introverted soul with a crown of fiery red hair that matched her quietly fierce spirit. Her introversion and kind nature made her stand out in a way that wasn't always appreciated by others.

At St. Bernadette's Primary School, Katie had been the target of relentless bullying. The cruel taunts and exclusion had chipped away at her confidence, leading her to transfer to Tommen College in search of a fresh start. The transition had been hard, and her insecurities often flared up. Needless to say, I had a few choice words with those little shites who made her life miserable.

Katie loved Granda and Nanny Murphy. They welcomed her into their home as if she were family, and in many ways, she was. Katie's own family situation was far from ideal; her parents had gone through a messy divorce, leaving her feeling unsettled and overwhelmed. Whenever life at home became too much, she would call me, asking if she could join me for my Sunday tradition at Granda and Nanny's

Granda had instantly taken a liking to Katie, endearing her with his gruff charm and affection. He affectionately dubbed her his "partner in crime," often teaming up to debate the merits of the Fab Four against my own preferences for Queen or ABBA.

Nanny, on the other hand, had a tendency to fuss over Katie as if she were her own granddaughter, often commenting on how my best friend was "nothing but skin and bone." Despite my subtle warnings about Katie's sensitivity to such comments, Nanny's motherly instincts led her to pile Katie's plate high, much more than mine and insist that we both eat every last bite.