Definitely not 'In the mood for dancing'

Katie White

Looking back, I think a certain level of insanity had set in as I finished the letter to Mary that day. Shutting my notebook at exactly 23.50 I reached across my desk for the thesaurus, looking up the word day.

It read. Day noun 1 TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.

Great. That meant this day had finally ended. I didnt have to wait for the customary 00.00 for me to shut the door on this catastrophic twenty-four hours. Placing an innocent looking Tramadol tablet on my tongue, I tried a couple of dry swallows before reaching for my long forgotten tea, ignoring the advice weve all heard before about not sharing other peoples tablets I waited for that day to be wiped out by my brothers prescription drugs.

Having said that, back then I could have sourced these or something far stronger from any member of my family, who were all using medication, alcohol or nicotine just to function. Mind you, I had some catching up to do back then because theyd had nearly a full weeks start on me. Id come in at the end of what felt like someone elses tragic movie.

Theyd got in at the opening credits the week before.

For me the only inkling of imminent disaster had been an unshakable fear on my Spanish holiday of something unpleasant happening on Thursday? I dont know why because Im definitely not psychic. Unless Im predicting me not losing a pound at weight watchers or my husband taking five hours when hes only nipped out for a quick pint.

As the tablets slowly started to distort the room, I remember moving to the couch, closing my eyes and letting the day replay itself like a film. Scene one had started at precisely 23.50 the previous evening when I was on a bus with my family to Palma Airport, willing the buss digital clock to speed up and surpass twelve. Only then would I know Thursday was gone and my dreadful anxieties had been baseless.

Not once had I dared voice these thoughts, probably for fear of them transpiring.

Twelve oclock eventually appeared, but only when 00.01 flashed up and Id double-checked my mobile and watch, did I allow myself a sigh of relief. Im sure the bus could have inched forward slightly with the force of the air escaping my lungs. Then, for a few short hours, I let myself almost believe everything was well in my world.

But in scene two as the plane neared Glasgow I became filled with a new certainty; someone would be waiting at the airport, probably mam.

Heading for the customary Nothing to Declare exit, I remember scanning the arrivals hall screens for familiar faces. Again I was proved wrong. But in scene three as we dropped our cases on the hall floor and the doorbell chimed, I knew, without opening the door, that my sister Mary was dead.

I cant recall exactly what was said then, but I remember thinking; well you were wrong about one thing, it wasnt mam waiting with bad news, it was your brother and crying brother in law.

You should be crying. My brain had instructed me harshly.

So I did.

Dont ask me how we then got to scene four - me sitting dry-eyed in my parents living room and everyone looking at me, asking / telling me things.

How are you?

She was missing for a week, we didnt know where she was.

Do you want a coffee?

A woman walking her dog found her.

Are you alright Kathleen?

We didnt want to worry you and waste your holiday.

Did they tell you she was only found yesterday?

Thursday.

After that I seemed to lose my hearing, watching their faces. They were all hurting - for me - the outsider - new to their drama and not yet capable of dealing with this particular episode. I almost felt horrified at their concern, embarrassed at having so much attention.

As I opened my mouth to speak I remember the whole room had stilled expectantly. You know what? I asked, hoping to divert them. Im back my holidays and not one of you bastards has mentioned my tan!

As I knew it would, the room erupted with laughter. I felt like I d successfully deflected the pity bullet, being slagged instead about my colour, call that a tan, Ive seen darker milk. Or teased about being away, we had a missing person to deal with while you were swaning about Spain.

Im ashamed to admit I envied them their terrible time together, wishing Id been here, worrying, laughing, hurting, popping tranquillisers and eating rolls on square sliced sausages with them.

But then I remember feeling unspeakably bereft, silently leaving the room and going upstairs. I hope never again to experience the horrendous pain I almost couldnt feel because I was so numb with shock, but which had me shaking and jerking uncontrollably.

Quite simply, I cried like a woman whose sister was dead.

When the aftershocks had subsided and the family guards werent looking, Id escaped to the park with mums spaniel. They say dogs are sensitive and know when youre upset. But I can honestly say Cara wasnt bothered her arse and went off chasing rabbits as usual.

Id smiled, watching her through my reactions sunglasses that made me look like one of the Bee Gees. That thought had left me feeling even sadder, as one of their brothers had also recently died.

And that terrible night as the tablet won its fight to drag me into nothingness, I can still clearly remember my last thought as the Nolans song, Im in the mood for dancing played in my head.

What a time for the music industryOne of the Bee Gees has died and our Fake Nolan Sisters band will never dance together again with hairbrush microphones, because one of my five Nolan sisters had decided to give up.

Shed had enough of dancing in this lifetime.