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‘What do you say?’ prompts Bex.
‘Thank you, lovely lady,’ pipes up Storm.
Bex laughs out loud. ‘Oooh, cheeky! Where did that come from?’
‘Don’t worry. Kerry taught him that.’
Bex raises her eyebrows. ‘Did he now? Actually, he did tell me he had invited you to the barbecue we’re having at the weekend.’
I nod. ‘That’s right. I’m sorry, though, but my boyfriend is coming over from the UK.’
‘Bring your man along too,’ says Bex. ‘We’d love to see you there. I’ll make sure Joe behaves himself, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
I try to smile confidently. I’m not quite sure how Bex is so perceptive. In a strange way, I find it reassuring. Maybe it would be a nice thing to do. ‘Okay, I’ll see how it goes,’ I say.
After Bex leaves, I find myself clock-watching. I’ve decided to confront Roisin and sort this business out once and for all. I don’t want it hanging over me any longer. I close up the café at four-thirty and spend the next half hour clearing things away and setting up for the next day.
Locking the door, I hurry round to the doctors’ surgery. The car park is virtually empty, except for a handful of cars, which I presume are staff vehicles. I spot a black Mini and something tells me it’s Roisin’s car. I wander over to it.
I don’t have to wait long before I see her emerge from around the corner. She has her head down, looking in her handbag. She pulls out a bunch of keys and looks up towards the Mini. I was right, it is her car.
Her step slows as she sees me. I remain leaning back against the car.
‘I hope you haven’t damaged the paintwork,’ she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and picking up her stride again. ‘Wouldn’t want to have to get Kerry to send you the bill for a respray.’
I wait until she reaches the car before I move off. ‘I thought I’d have heard from you by now,’ I say, ensuring there is no concern attached to the words.
‘Getting jittery, are you?’
‘Jittery? No. Not at all. More like bored.’
Roisin gives a laugh. ‘Well, you should be,’ she says. ‘Getting jittery, that is.’
‘Over a photograph. I don’t think so.’ I’m holding my nerve so far in this game of brinkmanship.
‘Yes, but this isn’t any old photograph, is it? No, this is a very special photograph. One that my brother hid away because if anyone saw it and read what was on the back, then your sordid little secret would be out.’
The word ‘sordid’ is the trigger.
‘There was nothing sordid about me and Niall.’ I’m crowding her space, but she doesn’t flinch. ‘We loved each other.’
‘Oh, please. Do me a favour…and yourself.’ She takes a step closer. We are inches apart. ‘You were a couple of young teenagers. It was puppy love. Do you really think my brother was going to stay with you once he had gone off to university?’ Her smile, full of derision, turns to a sneer. ‘Did you really think getting pregnant on purpose was going to keep him?’
‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about. What do you want, Roisin?’
The smile returns and her shoulders relax. She side-steps round to her car, blipping the remote to unlock the car. ‘Ah, now we’re getting to the point.’ Opening the door, she drops her bag onto the passenger seat, closes the door and turns to face me. ‘I want to know the truth about what happened to that baby.’
I wonder how much she knows and how much she is fishing for. I study her while I decide how to answer this.
‘There was no baby,’ I say, after a few seconds.
‘Well, you see, Erin, I don’t believe that. And I’m going to make it my business to prove it.’ She opens the door and slips into her seat, pausing with her hand on the handle. ‘By the way, I hope your dad recovers soon from his accident.’ She slams the door shut and starts the engine before I can react.
I bang on the glass. ‘What do you mean by that?’ She smiles, but says nothing, before driving off.
I’m left standing there, watching the car disappear out of the car park, leaving behind a foreboding, which settles around me like a shroud.
The next morning I’m up early and out for a run. I need to burn off the nervous energy that has been building inside me since I came back to Rossway. After the spat with Roisin last night, the reassurance that she can’t do anything to cause trouble evades me.
I breathe deeply as I jog onto the estuary footpath, towards the village, the fresh sea air fills my lungs, the saltiness of it settles on my lips. This is perhaps one of my happier memories of living in Rossway: the freshness, together with the seagulls squawking in the sky and the sound of the tidal river churning in and out of the estuary.
As I near the bike shop, I find myself looking up towards Kerry’s flat. I squint against the glare of the morning sun, realising someone is at the window. It’s Kerry.
He has obviously seen me as he puts his hand up. I jog on the spot, not quite sure whether he is trying to get my attention or just waving. Kerry opens the window and leans out.
‘Haven’t you got anything better to do?’ he calls. ‘Like staying in bed?’
‘You clearly haven’t,’ I call back, feeling myself smile broadly. ‘Anyway, lie-ins are for wimps.’
‘You saying I’m a wimp?’
‘You’re the one who looks like they’ve just got up. Me, on the other hand, I’ve been up for a couple of hours and now I’m out exercising.’
‘Hmm, a bit of jogging around the village and you call that exercise?’
‘It’s more than a bit of jogging, I’ll have you know.’
‘Pah, anyone can jog!’
‘Oh really? Get your backside down here and let’s see what you’re made of!’ I can’t help giggling. I’m enjoying the banter.
‘I tell you what, you get your backside up here and then I’ll show you what I’m made of.’
I laugh and look away for a moment while I try to think of a suitable reply. ‘I asked first,’ I call back, thinking what a crap response that was. I hope my face is red from running to disguise the blush that I feel race up my neck. Time to go. I look back up at him. ‘Anyway, would love to stop and chat, but I’m a busy lady.’ With that I sprint off, ignoring the cries of ‘chicken’ that follow me.
A pang of guilt shoots through me as I think of Ed. I increase my stride as if increasing the distance between myself and the bike shop will also push thoughts of Kerry away. I cross the road and run parallel with the estuary wall. The water looks calm today, the early-morning sun beginning to stretch its sparkly fingers across the sea with promises of a nice day ahead. A good day for friends, wine and lunches in pub gardens.
Unchecked, my thoughts return to Kerry and the invite to the barbecue tomorrow. Bex had been so easy to talk to the other day it really is a tempting offer. Bex is refreshingly unchallenging and we ended up having a long chat, catching up on the last ten years of both our lives and those of the Rossway folk. It’s nice having a good old girly chat, I’ve been left thinking a few hours in the company of the Wright family might not be such a bad thing after all.
As I consider the prospect, I leave the footpath and head for the woods that cup the edge of Rossway. They aren’t natural woods, but a man-made windbreak, about fifty metres deep, stretching the length of the village. Within ten minutes I’ve reached the end of the trees and, hopping over the stile, I realise I’m now in Corkscrew Lane.
I make my way up the lane past a variety of bungalows and houses scattered along the way. About halfway along, I notice the crystals and lanterns hanging from an apple tree in one of the front gardens. ‘That has got to be Apple Tree Cottage,’ I puff to myself. What had Kerry said? Bohemian? Was this boho chic? That, together with the two motorbikes, an orange-and-white VW Campervan and a battered old blue Fiesta parked in the driveway, means I don’t need to read the sign hanging from the gate to confirm it’s where Joe and Bex live.
Pushing myself harder, I manage to negotiate the uneven gravel track and am thankful to reach the end of Corkscrew Lane, a winding road that curls round the back of the village and into the High Street. I check my watch. I have enough time to have a quick shower before opening the café up at nine.
I have spoken to both Mum and Fiona about the opening times, suggesting that opening later and closing earlier at weekends wouldn’t do the business any harm. The early-morning rush is a weekday occurrence, usually tradesmen on their way to work. None of them came in over the weekend. Neither had protested at my suggestion.
‘Ah, sure, close the café early,’ Mum had said. ‘You need a rest, Erin, and especially if Ed’s coming over to see you.’
I sigh as my thoughts come full circle back to Ed. I really should be excited he’s coming over, but I’m having a hard time convincing myself so. Truth be told, the prospect of seeing Kerry and spending time with the Wrights is rather more appealing.
Chapter 9
Teenage Kicks
Four months before leaving
I sit in front of the mirror in my bedroom and tease the straighteners through the waves of my hair. It takes forever and I am grateful, once again, for my sister buying these. I used the conditioner she got for me from a hair salon in London. Rita’s hairdressers, along from the café, doesn’t sell anything as nice as this, plus Rita charges a fortune for cheap stuff.
Finally, I’m happy with my hair and can begin to do my make-up. I glance at my watch. Niall is coming to pick me up in half an hour. We are going to a party. It’s Shane Wright’s eighteenth and his parents have hired the function room at the back of The Smugglers. To be honest, I’m not keen on going as, of course, Jody Wright and all the crowd will be there. Obviously that includes Roisin. We’re not so close any more since I’ve been seeing Niall. I don’t know what it is. I get the feeling she’s disappointed. Disappointed that Niall hasn’t got an uber-cool girlfriend that she can show off, rather than just me: plain old Erin Hurley from the café. I’m not exactly exotic. Anyway, Niall said not to worry about Jody, he will be on his best behaviour, after all, it is his brother’s party and even Jody wouldn’t do anything to ruin that. I hope Niall is right.
I apply my foundation, mascara and blusher. I stop short of using the red lipstick I have as I know Dad won’t approve. For some reason he hates me wearing lipstick. I heard him mutter something to Mum about me looking like a tramp. Mum told him off and said it was a sign I was growing up and he should simply accept it. He did a bit more muttering after that. Still, I won’t wear it in front of him if it upsets him. I don’t want to cause problems between him and Mum.
I wriggle into the black stretchy dress, with really pretty lace sleeves, I bought. I’m sure Dad won’t be keen on that either, so to keep the peace I put on my long maxi skirt over the top. I’ll slip it off when I get into Niall’s car. Just have to remember to put it back on when I come home later.
Mum taps on the door and comes in as I’m stepping into my Amish get-up. She raises her eyebrows but says nothing. I continue with my disguise.
Mum stands next to me and we look at ourselves in the full-length mirror. Our hair colouring is identical. She hasn’t got the curls, though; I have Dad to thank for those. Mum and I both have the same lily-white skin, although mine is a shade darker due to the foundation I’m wearing.
‘You look pretty,’ says Mum. She gives me a hug and we smile at each other’s reflection.
‘Thank you.’ I want to say she looks tired and is working too hard but I don’t. Instead, I tell her she’s pretty herself and I must take after her. Her green eyes crinkle as she smiles at me and lets out a little laugh.
‘Now, you will be back by midnight, won’t you?’ she says, a more serious look settling on her face.
‘Do I have to? Can’t I stay out a bit longer? One?’
She looks at me for a long moment before finally speaking. ‘Okay, one o’clock, but no later.’
I give her a big hug and plant a kiss on her cheek. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Don’t mention it to your dad. I’ll sort it out once you’ve gone.’
I keep a look out from my window for Niall. I’ve told him to park over near the road leading to The Spit. It’s easier that way. I don’t want Dad questioning him about what time I’m coming home.
‘I wish Dad wasn’t so strict and uptight about everything,’ I say.
Mum sits on the bed and smoothes out imaginary creases in my duvet cover. ‘Your dad is not that bad,’ she says. ‘He’s just a bit over-protective, that’s all.’
‘Controlling,’ I respond.
‘It’s out of concern for your well-being. He’s got your best interests at heart and he does love you.’
‘He has a funny way of showing it. I wish he wasn’t so stressy all the time. If he could relax and not be so uptight about everything, it would be so much better, but he wants to control everything I do.’ I drop myself down on the bed next to her. ‘It’s his way or no way. That’s why Fiona left.’ I register the look of pain on Mum’s face. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘I know what you mean about Fiona,’ says Mum. ‘And I don’t want the same thing to happen with you. That’s why I’m trying to help. So things are different this time. He does know he needs to give you more freedom and choice in matters. It’s hard for him to change, that’s all.’
With silent mutual consent we leave the conversation there. I take another glance out of the window. I can see Niall’s car under the streetlight.
Mum follows me out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I pass the living room and casually call out a goodbye to Dad.
‘Okay, have a nice time and don’t be late,’ he calls back.
I don’t respond, but hastily close the door, leaving Mum to break the news to him.
Like most parties, Shane’s birthday bash takes a while to get going. As Niall is one of Shane’s closest friends, we arrive early, when it’s mostly just the family there. Shane comes from a big family and they are all very close.
Niall’s parents have been invited: Diana and Pat. Out of politeness, explains Niall.
‘My parents and Shane’s parents are very different,’ he says. ‘You know what my mam’s like at times.’
‘I didn’t realise they were friends,’ I say.
‘They’re not really. They know each other from living in the village so long and because Shane and I have been friends since we were kids.’
My dad says Diana and Pat Marshall like to think they are very middle class, with their money, fancy cars and expensive holidays. Diana is a GP at the local surgery in the village and Jeff works from home. Niall says he does something in IT. He doesn’t really know what, but it means his dad has to go up to the Dublin office regularly.
Shane and Joe’s parents are very down to earth. They go to the pub a lot and are into their motorbikes. Shane’s dad, Max, has the bike shop he’s just opened across the road from the café. Dad keeps moaning about the motorbikes and the noise they make.
Diana and Shane’s mum, Louise, are chatting when we arrive. Diana has that funny look on her face, like she has something really nasty stuck underneath her nose. Louise has an empty wine glass in her hand and is doing most of the talking, by the look of it.
Diana spots us first, then says something to Louise and the two women come over to greet us.
‘Hello, darling,’ says Diana to Niall. ‘I thought you were going to wear a jacket and tie?’
‘No, Mam, I told you, it’s not a formal do. I’m not going to a wedding or something. It’s just smart-casual.’
‘I think you look lovely,’ I say.
Diana turns to me. I hate the look she gives. ‘Hello, Erin.’ I watch her eyes take in the black mini dress I’m wearing. She has that same disapproving look I’ve seen in Dad’s eyes. Before she can say anything else, Louise is hugging us and thanking us for coming.
As more guests arrive and the adults return to their conversation, we make our way over to rescue Shane, who has been cornered by an elderly relative.
‘Thanks, man,’ he says as we bundle him away. ‘I hope the others get here soon. Much as I love the olds, I can’t do any more small talk.’
Within an hour The Smugglers’ function room is filling up and the party gets going. The DJ starts off with some rather more party-like songs that get some of the older guests up dancing. I have to say, Louise and Max Wright are pretty cool on the dance floor. They are having an absolute whale of a time. Everyone is watching them.
Someone nudges my shoulder. I turn and inwardly groan. It’s Jody Wright.
‘All right, Bunny?’ he shouts in my ear above the noise of the music. He peers around me and nods at Niall. ‘Want to come outside, for a bit of, you know, fresh air?’
‘Okay,’ says Niall and takes my hand. ‘Come on. Don’t want to leave you alone. You might get dragged onto the dance floor with Max.’ He grins as Max and Louise are now literally in the throes of a very energetic jive. At least, that’s want I think it is.
The night air cuts through the lace sleeves of my dress, sending little goosebumps along my arms. Shane, Roisin and Rebecca, a girl in the year below us at school, are already there. We huddle round the corner, away from prying eyes. There’s also a blond boy there who I don’t recognise. He’s laughing with Shane about something as they share a cigarette. I wonder for a minute if it’s one of Jody’s brothers, but I think they’re older than Shane and this one looks about the same sort of age. He looks over and nods at us but doesn’t break his conversation.
As we stand there, I’m very aware everyone is smoking except for me. This is Jody’s idea of fresh air.
‘Do you want some?’ Roisin holds out her half-smoked cigarette in my direction.
‘No, I’m good, thanks,’ I reply. I really don’t want to smoke. I don’t care if others do; it’s something that has never appealed to me.
‘Goody Two Shoes,’ Roisin says. She masks the remark with a smile. ‘What about a drink?’ she adds, as she rummages in her bag. She pulls out a large plastic bottle.
‘Cola?’ I ask and then immediately regret it as Roisin and Jody snigger.
‘Yeah, cola,’ says Roisin, ‘and vodka. Jesus, Erin, I wonder at you sometimes.’
‘I thought it was just cola too,’ says Rebecca. She tosses her long black hair with pink-tinted ends behind her shoulder. ‘Easy mistake to make.’
She looks over and smiles at me. I return the smile.
The bottle is passed around and this time I do participate.
The boy talking to Shane pulls a tobacco pouch from his pocket. ‘Anyone want a proper smoke now?’
To the encouraging agreement from the others, he unfolds the pouch and, crouching down, begins to roll a cigarette. It’s at this point I realise it’s not a normal cigarette, not with those large papers and the extra sprinkling of green he mixes with the tobacco.
He stands up, lights the joint and takes a draw, long and slow. He puts his head back and closes his eyes. After a moment he lets the smoke drift out of his mouth. He blinks a couple of times, refocuses and looks appreciatively at the roll-up between his fingers. ‘That’s good,’ he says. He offers the joint around.
‘Cheers, Kerry,’ says Jody, before taking an equally long draw. ‘Now that’s why I love my cousin. He gets seriously good gear.’ He gives Kerry a friendly punch on the upper arm.
So the boy is Jody and Shane’s cousin. That would explain the blond hair and ease with each other. Looking at the three of them, I can see the family likeness now.
The joint finds its way to me. I debate whether to take a drag, just to pacify them, as I’m sure there will be some comment if I don’t.
‘No big deal if you don’t want to,’ says Kerry. ‘It’s cool.’ He sends a look in Jody and Roisin’s direction and then the decision is taken away from me as Kerry reaches over and, taking the joint from my fingers, passes it on to Niall.
Kerry smiles at me briefly and I am thankful the moment has passed.
Niall, on the other hand, has clearly done this before. I don’t know whether I’m shocked or not. I suppose I am a little bit. I know he smokes, but he’s never mentioned weed before. I’m not sure how I feel about this as his eyes glaze over.
The vodka and coke is following the joint round our little group. I take a larger gulp than before, conscious the others are getting merrily stoned and drunk while I’m not feeling the effects of anything. I don’t want to be the only one sober; it makes the night less fun. Nothing is quite so funny when you’ve not had a drink but everyone else has.
Suddenly the sound of the door to the function room can be heard as it clatters open. The dull beat of the music is now sharper as the sound escapes into the night air but not so loud that we don’t hear footsteps crunch purposefully across the gritted car park. Roisin pops her head around the corner and almost chokes on the vodka and coke she has just swigged. She dives back.
‘Feck! It’s Mam,’ she hisses and thrusts the bottle into my hands. There’s a flurry of activity as Niall drops his cigarette and crunches it underneath his foot.
I’m left holding the bottle of alcohol. I turn, looking for somewhere to hide it, but there’s nowhere.
‘Oh God, what shall I do with the bottle? Niall?’
He shakes his head. The bottle is then snatched from my hands just as Diana appears. I look over at Kerry, who now has it. Diana isn’t stupid. She scans our faces. Her eyes rest on the bottle and then flick to me. I’m sure she saw Kerry take it.
‘I hope that’s just coke in there,’ she says, her eyes still trained on me. ‘And I can smell cigarettes.’ This time Roisin is under scrutiny.
‘That will be me,’ says Kerry, holding up his cigarette, which fortunately is a normal one. I have no idea where the joint has gone.
I don’t think Diana believes him but she can’t prove otherwise. ‘Shane, your mother was wondering where you were. She wants you back in. Now.’
‘Right you are,’ says Shane. He turns to us. ‘Come on, we’d better go in. Don’t want to upset me mam.’
‘I’ll say,’ says Kerry.
We make a move and head back into the hall. Diana is at the helm. I link my arm through Niall’s, but behind me I can hear a barrage of whispered swear words and scuffling. I glance back over my shoulder as Kerry extracts the joint from his pocket and is frantically flapping at his jacket with the palm of his hand.
Jody is smothering a laugh. ‘He hid it in his pocket,’ he whispers with a grin. ‘It didn’t go out, though.’
We are quite a gaggle staggering our way back into the party, all with varying degrees of success. Diana holds the door open and practically counts us in. I let go of Niall’s arm so we can single-file in through the door. As I pass Diana she puts her hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m watching you,’ she says. ‘I know that bottle was yours and there’s more than just coke in it.’
I go to protest but decide against it. Grassing up Roisin is not on my agenda and, besides, I don’t think Diana would believe me anyway.
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