Kay Scullion - The Virgin Mary of Glenveagh Drive

So this Scullion Story centres on the quietest Scullion of them all – Kay Scullion, AKA Doctor Dolittle.

Kay loved animals more than people. Birds with broken wings, stray cats, random dogs off the street – she’d bring them all home to feed.

It drove Granny Bridie demented because every new “pet” came with fleas, ticks and chaos.

But that was Kay – a loner in a house bursting at the seams with eleven kids, soldiers outside the door, and the madness of West Belfast during The Troubles.

She never went out, never had a boyfriend, never set foot in a disco. Her only nightlife involved rescuing pigeons and hiding stray dogs under the bed.

So when one night the Scullion girls heard bloodcurdling screams from upstairs, they thought Kay was dying. Kay was rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach, convinced her appendix had burst. Granny Bridie sent Briege flying next door to the Dochertys – the only family in Glenveagh Drive with a phone – to call an ambulance.

Cue more screams, chaos, and neighbours rushing in. But when Mrs Docherty lifted Kay’s big baggy jumper, everyone froze. It wasn’t appendicitis. It was a baby bump.

Shock doesn’t cover it. Granny Bridie – not known for bad language – even let out a “WHAT THE F—?!” moment. Kay? A baby? The girl who never left the house? Hadn’t so much as looked at a man? Mrs Docherty, stone-faced, suggested it must be an immaculate conception. Nobody laughed.

So off the girls ran to fetch the Scullion boys from the Donegal Celtic pub. At first, they didn’t believe it either. But soon enough the whole clan was in a frenzy.

Bridie demanded, “Who’s the Daddy?” and Kay had no choice but to whisper the name. That was it. The Scullion boys were dispatched like Bridie’s personal flying monkeys to drag him from the bar.

And drag him they did – kicking and screaming – straight to the hospital.

Now if this was The Waltons, this is where he would have kissed the baby, promised eternal love, and they’d all live happily ever after. But this is a Scullion Story.

The so-called “father” denied the baby was his. Bold as brass. But here’s the twist – Kay denied him. She looked at him the way a cat looks at a dead mouse and said, “Don’t flatter yourself – you’re not the Da.”

And truth be told, she didn’t need him. Kay had her baby, her Scullion brothers and sisters, and enough family chaos to fill a football pitch. Better no father than that sorry excuse of a man.

And, as it turns out, Kay’s instincts were razor sharp. Because not long after, that sneaky wee eejit – as the uncles put it – went on to allegedly murder his first wife. Allegedly, of course. (We’ve got to keep it legal!)

So no, Kay didn’t lose out on Prince Charming. She dodged a bullet. Or, as we Scullions like to say, she threw him back – like an unwanted fish.

This story has everything: secrets, screams, stray animals, immaculate conceptions, and the full drama of a West Belfast house crammed with eleven kids. It’s funny, it’s chaotic, and it’s pure Scullion.

So the moral? Never underestimate a quiet girl, a big jumper, or the power of pure Scullion denial.

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