Honor is in an absolute fouler when she gets into the cor.
I’m there, “Tough day at school?”
“The fock is this?” she goes, waving a sheaf of glossy pages at me and her old dear.
And Sorcha – sitting behind the wheel – goes, “It’s a copy of the student magazine, isn’t it? The Mount Anville Gazette?”
Sorcha is standing at the island with a boning knife in one hand and an espresso in the other, grinning at us like a serial killer
The old dear goes, ‘I don’t want my vital work on the campaign Move Funderland to the Northside to die with me’
‘I remember Past Ross thinking, you need to stort being nicer to Future Ross. He’s a genuinely good bloke’
‘Sorcha, I’m wondering is climate justice maybe a bit above Santa’s pay grade?’
“Exactly,” Honor goes. “And there’s an editorial in it calling me a fascist.”
I’m there, “A fascist? Jesus! Here, what do they do again?”
“It means an authoritarian,” Sorcha goes. “Someone who’s dictatorial. Autocratic. It means she believes in the suppression of dissent.”
Honor’s there, “Er, does that sound like me?”
Sorcha doesn’t give her a straight answer. She just goes, “You’ve definitely chosen to be a different kind of Head Girl?”
Honor’s there, “Are you saying you’re on Thia Hall’s side?”
“I’m saying that you’ve spent the last three months dismantling decades-old institutions – like the Student Council.”
“As Head Girl, it’s my job to be the voice of the students of the school? We don’t need some bunch of dweebs claiming they have the right to speak for everyone.”
“And I’m making the point that, to some people, that kind of attitude might come across as fascistic. It might appear to some that you’re attempting to subvert democracy.”
Honor’s like, “Excuse me?”
“And also attempting to close down free speech,” Sorcha goes.
Someone is backing her financially – and I’m going to make it my business to find out who it is
— Honor
I’m there, “How is that magazine still going, Honor? I thought the old man and Hennessy were going to use their influence to get all the advertisers to pull their money.”
“That’s a very good point,” Honor goes.
I’m there, “Is it?” delighted with myself. “Fair focks to me so.”
“As in, like, who’s funding Thia?” she goes. “There are literally no ads in this magazine any more. So, like, who’s actually paying to have it printed?”
Sorcha goes, “Can we maybe change the subject? Honor, you haven’t told us what you want for Christmas yet.”
Honor’s there, “Someone is backing her financially – and I’m going to make it my business to find out who it is.”
“Even though I can’t believe we’re talking about Christmas already,” Sorcha goes. “Seems like no time ago that we were in Quinta do Lago. Mind you, it was midterm – so it was no time ago?”
I’m like, “How are you going to find out who’s bankrolling the girl, Honor?”
And Honor’s there, “I’m going to ask Hennessy to find out. There’s this, like, private investigator he uses?”
I’m like, “You’re not talking about Flatfoot Frankie, are you?”
She goes, “Frankie – that’s his name.”
I’m there, “I can’t believe old Flatfoot is still knocking about. I did port of my transition year work experience with him. He used to get me to name random people and then he’d have their bank account details within, like, half an hour. That’s how I found out that Fionn’s granny left him half-a-million snots in her will. This was back in the day when half-a-million was considered a lot of money.”
I happen to think that a free press is the lifeblood of a healthy body politic
— Sorcha
That’s when Sorcha suddenly loses it.
She goes, “Oh my God, why are we still talking about this? I’m trying to talk about Christmas here!”
I give her a long, sideways look and she’s, like, red in the face.
“Oh! My God!” Honor goes. “It’s you!”
Sorcha’s there, “Me? What’s me? Oh my God, what are you talking about?”
Honor goes, “You’re the one who’s bankrolling the magazine! Go on – deny it!”
[ ‘We’ve no idea what caused the fire. And we’re sticking to that story’Opens in new window ]
Except Sorcha doesn’t deny it?
She goes, “I happen to think that a free press is the lifeblood of a healthy body politic.”
I’m there, “Jesus, Sorcha – what kind of talk is that?”
She’s like, “I set up the Mount Anville Gazette for that very reason. And I’m proud to say that it was one of my legacy projects. Because power needs eyes on it at all times.”
Honor’s like, “Oh! My! God!” and she storts turning the pages of the magazine madly. “Oh! My focking–”
I’m there, “How much is this actually costing us in terms of shekels, Sorcha?”
Honor goes, “Honor O’Carroll-Kelly’s efforts to close down The MAG are an attempt to subvert democracy and close down free speech,” and she’s, like, reading from it, we’re talking word for word. “A free press is the lifeblood of a health body politic. Oh my God, Thia didn’t write this! You wrote it!”
Sorcha doesn’t even try to deny it? I would. I’m terrified of Honor.
Sorcha goes, “Thia asked me – as a former Head Girl myself – to write a guest editorial on the age of authoritarianism.”
Honor’s there, “What, without putting your name to it?”
“Yes, such is the climate of fear that you’ve brought about,” Sorcha goes.
I’m there, “I can’t believe you’ve gone against your own daughter, Sorcha,” loving not being the bad goy for once in my life.
Honor’s like, “You compared me to Donald Trump.”
“I said that a lot of your behaviour – yes – comes across as quite Trumpian,” Sorcha goes. “Refusing to accept the outcome of democratic votes when they don’t go your way. Using the sixth-year ski trip to line your own pockets. Treating anyone who questions the way you use your power as an enemy to be destroyed.”
I’m there, “You’re bang out of order, Sorcha – in fairness.”
Honor goes, “Stop the cor!”
Except Sorcha doesn’t. She goes, “I am not stopping the cor. We’re on the Stillorgan Dual Carriageway.”
But Honor throws open the back door while we’re still moving and suddenly the thing is flapping around back there like a fish’s gill.
“Stop the focking cor!” she screams.
Which Sorcha then has no choice but to do?
Sorcha’s like, “What are you going to do? Get the bus the rest of the way?” and she’s really putting it up to her.
“No,” Honor goes, “I’m going to get an Uber.”
Sorcha’s there, “I make no apologies for saying it, Honor, that you are a danger to democracy. Watch the road there as you’re getting out.”
But Honor goes, “You’ve made an enemy of me now. Bad move ... Mom!”
Honor gets out and slams the door shut.
Sorcha’s like, “What’s she going to do to me? Seriously, what can she do?”
But she sounds genuinely scared. And from bitter experience, I would say there’s every reason she should be?
