How to Get to Heaven from Belfast

He was just so angry.

He called me a liar.

"You lying bitch."

"You lying whore."

I knew there was no talking him down. I knew we were beyond that.

-But he grabbed me. -

I tried to fight him off.

But it was useless. He had his hands on my throat.

Pressing harder and harder.

It felt like I was about to pass out. When I saw it.

I remember feeling it in my hand, and…

And I remember thinking I had one chance.

- -

So I took it.

I've been looking for you.

- Go. -What?

Go!

Jesus Christ!

-Where's the car? -Over here.

Oh my God!

What the fuck is going on?!

Robyn, wait!

What the fuck is the craic with people who are supposed to be dead

not actually being dead?

-Would you drive?! -I'm gonna drive.

How? How? How?

Will you please stop saying "how"?

But how? Did we all, like, imagine it?

-It was him. -Couldn't be, could it?

Unless he was… Was it a ghost?

-Wise up, Dara. -Then how?

- - Shit.

Oh, it's me sister.

-Cancel it. - Dara.

- Why did you answer it? -I didn't mean to.

When is Mammy supposed to take this diabetes medicine?

-What? -Hang up.

The diabetes medicine. When is Mammy supposed to take it?

Mammy's not diabetic, Jamie.

-Who's the diabetes medicine for? -The cat.

Okay. Bye-bye, Jamie.

What the hell?

-This is all we need. - Well, there you are.

Can I help you, officer?

I'm afraid you're gonna have to turn back.

What? Why?

This storm's worse than they predicted. We're locking things down.

Come on, lads. I mean, it's just a bit of a breeze.

Oh no. It's a de facto storm, all right. Hurricane Olivia, they're calling it.

Hurricane "pain in the fecking hole," a bit more like it.

-A hurricane? -Are you serious, girls?

There's been nothing but red weather warnings on the news.

We were in custody. You lads might have mentioned it.

We had a lot of ground to cover, Ms. Shaw.

-You can stay at the hotel. -We've just come from the hotel.

Then you can go back there. We'll inform you when it's safe to travel.

-Can't we just drive to the next village? -No, you can't. Turn the vehicle around.

-What if we were really-- -On you go.

I used to have a dog called Olivia.

A real pain in the fecking hole.

Christ.

-Jumped-up little prick. -He's only doing his job.

-Why don't you just ride him, Saoirse? -What are we gonna do?

Well, looks like we're heading straight back into the horse's mouth.

-The lion's den. -What?

-That's not the right… Fuck it! -How do we face him?

What do you say to a man you helped murder?

We didn't help murder him.

Clearly not. He's nursing a pint in a Donegal snug.

What I mean is, that's not how it was. We…

We didn't do any actual murdering. It was just a bit of burying.

Yeah, well, what happened? Was he somehow still alive?

Did he just wake up and crawl out of his shallow grave?

Wasn't even that shallow. Sure, we were knackered digging it.

And then what? He hides out for 20 years? It's mental.

Twenty years.

-It's not him. -What?

How can it be?

Unless he hasn't aged in two decades.

-He must have had a son. -What the hell does he want?

I think we're about to find out.

- What is happening here, girls? -I'm not sure.

I've ordered a few cakes as well. What the hell, eh?

But if he knows what we did to his da, he's nowhere near pissed off enough.

-I am freaking out. I am freaking out. -Well, just don't, okay?

All the Dolly Partons are giving us evils.

Fuck them.

Here we are.

- Thank you so much... -Andrew.

Andrew? Sorry. You said that already didn't you? Sorry.

- -Black's fine for me.

-I'm trying not to have any dairy. - I really must apologize.

I can appreciate that a strange man lurking around the place you're staying,

asking questions about you might be a little unsettling.

I didn't mean to frighten anyone.

You didn't.

Oh, right. I guess it's just when you all ran out of here screaming.

Oh. That wasn't really about you.

We were all a bit on edge.

A bit delicate. We had a heavy night last night.

-Bad batch of heroin. -Not heroin.

-Prawns. -Poitín.

Desperate stuff. I actually thought I was Batman at one point.

I mean, I was half bat, half man. I had a bat's head, but a man's arms.

What was it you wanted to talk about, Andrew?

It's a bit delicate.

Um, and terrible timing, I'm sure. Um…

It's about Greta O'Neill.

-Greta? -Mm.

So, when I was a child… well, a baby really, um,

my father disappeared.

Disappeared?

Mm. And we never found out what happened to him.

I mean, over the years, there was theories and leads,

but ultimately, they all went nowhere.

Until a week ago, when I received the strangest phone call.

Thank you so much.

Uh, here, help yourself.

-From who? -No idea.

It was a woman's voice, but she didn't give her name.

She said that if I want to find out what happened to my father,

I should come here and speak to Greta O'Neill.

So I do, you know. I pack a bag, get on a flight,

only to arrive here in Knockdara and discover…

-That Greta's dead. -Yeah, exactly.

And died in an accident.

I mean, do many women of her age fall down the stairs to their death?

I suppose not.

My mind has been racing.

Approaching the family with this right now wouldn't be appropriate.

The woman's just passed away.

But the manager here said that you were her friends.

I just wondered if you might know something.

I'm… I'm really sorry, Andrew, but I'm not sure we can help.

Excuse me, sir. Just to say, you park your car out front at your own risk.

Ordinarily, there'd be no issue, but there's a twister heading for us.

So if it were to, heaven forbid, blow away or whatever…

-If my car were to blow away? -I can't be held accountable.

-It's a rental, so maybe I'm covered. -Your car's not gonna blow away, Andrew.

I'd give the insurance company a call just to be on the safe side.

Right, of course.

Look, let's continue this later. Um…

-Over dinner, perhaps? -I'm not sure we're still gonna be here.

You'll be going nowhere in a hurry tonight.

-Seriously? -It's to be a wild one, by all accounts.

Ah, well, dinner it is, then. 7:30?

No excuses.

-Sorry. Um… Ooh. -

Hello?

No excuses.

We're absolutely rammers on account of the twister.

Why does he keep calling it a twister?

I can't believe Jason Meadows had a son. Why didn't Greta tell us?

-Well, maybe she didn't know. -But as I say, it's a great wee space.

-He was someone's dad, girls. -He was a piece of shit, Dara.

It doesn't change that fact. I mean, don't get me wrong.

I feel sorry for Andrew. It's not his fault.

Though you might have to use your imagination.

I'd quite like to imagine I never saw this.

We'll give it a bit of a tidy up.

Whack a few cot beds in. It'll be great.

-Where's the bathroom? -Across the hall.

Across the hall? I am sorry, but that is barbaric.

We could stick a commode in if that's handier.

Oh, brilliant. Yeah, fantastic. We could stand around watching each other piss.

-It'll be like Glastonbury. -I've never been meself.

Is it not bad enough that I'm gonna miss my son's birthday?

-My only son. -He's not your only son.

Eldest. Eldest son.

Are you sure you've nothing a bit less, you know… shite, Seamus?

Every square inch of the place is accounted for.

There must be somewhere else for us to go. This can't be the only hotel.

Now you say it, if you go to the end of the street,

take the second left, you'll see the Christian Brothers Dry House.

-They'll take in any poor critter. -

Bring up the cot beds.

Great stuff.

This is a nightmare. What are we gonna do?

Get him to change those curtains, for a start. Jesus, the state of them.

I am not worried about the curtains. I am worried that the son of Jason Meadows

is downstairs and wants us to have dinner.

-Which obviously won't be happening. -I don't think we have any choice.

-No. -What?

Enough, okay? Enough.

I will not partake in this madness any longer.

I am done. I am drawing a line. This has all gone too far.

Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on here, and I don't care.

I don't care about bodies and coffins and weird messages and mystery offspring.

I am done. You do what you want. I'm staying out of it.

Staying out of it?

Robyn, you realize that whoever made that phone call,

whoever told Andrew to come here,

they know what happened that night. They must.

And if they know Greta was involved, they probably know we were.

Staying out of it isn't an option.

We need to start getting ahead of it.

Oh my God, she's right.

Jesus fucking Christ.