Angela, the new girl is keen to learn. Keen to make

letters with her pen and form them into words. As

soon as she can write her name she moves on to her

address: the name of the lane where the unofficial

site is, the name of the road off which the lane is, the

name of the district where the road is and the

number of the district.

All week: the lane, the road, the district, the number.

Each morning and afternoon till Friday when she

can write her name and address.

Her father doesn’t want anyone to know where

they’re living, least of all his cousin he owes five

hundred pounds to and when the cousin gets wind

of where they are, Angela’s father throws everything

into the trailer, hitches it to his van, arrives on our

doorstep and drags her off, the letters of the words

of the place where she spent a week spinning in her

head.

from A lesson in Can’t, by Celia de Fréine