Strange Sally Diamond

by Liz Nugent

“If Santa Claus doesn’t exist, does God, or the devil?” Mum looked to Dad and he said, “Nobody knows.” I found that concept difficult. If they knew for a fact that Santa Claus didn’t exist, why didn’t they know for sure about God?

First the lesbians and now the Blacks.” Her face was full of disapproval. “What’s the matter?” I asked her. “They’re taking over,” she said. “Another three families of foreigners moved into the village in the last month. All because of that bloody meat factory at Mervyn Park.” “It’s good. More customers for you,” I said. “They’re not the sort of customers I want.” “Why?” “I’m not racist, but Ireland is for Irish people.” “But Abebi and Maduka are Irish. They were born here.” “They’ll never be Irish,” she said. “It’s not good to be racist, Caroline,” I said. “You don’t understand a lot of things, Sally, and this is one of them.” “I understand racism.” “Stop calling me a racist.” “Stop being one.”