beats per minute (4 page)

 ‘We’re trying to love you, Raegan. If only you
wouldn’t make it so difficult.’

***

There was a spot down by the docks of St Jude’s port which
afforded the most beautiful views at sunset; the burnt umber of the sky lending
the stormy grey waters warmth, uniting the white shingled houses near the pier
with the panorama, and carelessly painting a path of light to the small island
on the horizon. On this particular evening, the dock was deserted except for
two males, who eschewed the small bench positioned proudly for spectators to
enjoy the view, and stood, quite motionless, regarding the beyond. They lounged
with a cultivated, casual elegance, quite separate from one another though they
stood relatively close; indeed, an observer may not have realised that they
were holding a conversation, for not even the merest sideways glance passed
between them.

‘The skies are quiet,’ the taller of the two commented.

‘Certainly.’
The temperature was
falling sharply as the sun dropped into the sea, but the attractive glint of
his companion’s blonde hair did not fade. ‘It is cool for this time of year, I
think. Animals nest to protect their families from the inclement weather.’

‘And yet the island is still busy.’
A note
of amusement.

‘Bird-watchers,’ the second made a snort of disgust.
‘All the same!
They believe themselves in love with nature
and yet are unable to read the signs.’

Their conversation was halted by the clatter of high heels
as a young, pretty girl clad in a tight dress and towering high heels drew closer
on her walk along the pier. The beads around the slender neck were paired with
her lipstick and nails, which flashed like scarlet butterflies as she ran them
through her hair. Interest flared as she passed, registered by all parties with
curling corners of mouths and slightly raised eyebrows.

Tossing her head flirtatiously, the girl slowed down but did
not stop, instead turning left toward the town centre. The men continued to
watch her silently as she swung her slim hips. The dance was over, at least for
now.

In the
nick of time, Raegan found herself arriving at the quay to catch the last boat
to the mainland; which was just as well, as the thought of spending another
minute under the same roof as Con made her want to scream.
With relief
she noted that the further away from the island she got, the less she cared.
The anxious, angry knots in her stomach transformed into butterflies, dizzily
weaving their way around. It had been so long. She was excited.

She was also pants-twangingly nervous.

Wasn’t she good at this stuff, once? At school she had been
too into books to fit in with the cool crowd, but she, Annie and Bex had been
invited to most of the parties. It was fun.
Easy.
Things got even easier when one of the best-looking boys in her year noticed
her – finally. She’d been daydreaming about him for months; every free
centimetre of her English book was covered with the doodle ‘Raegan 4 James’
repeated over and over in different colours. Everyone fancied James. He wasn’t
just hot, he was the leader of the pack; the Robert Pattinson of Woodstead High
- though Marie would definitely have found him a pale imitation, Raegan thought
with a grin. Crowds parted and girls’ eyelashes were batted frantically as he walked
through the canteen.

Had she loved him? Or did she just like being popular?
Looking back was like looking through a blurry lens. She could remember more
bad stuff than good. Even now when she thought of how it ended she almost
flinched; not because she still cared, but because she could remember just how
much it hurt. If she hadn’t caught him with another girl, if she hadn’t seen it
with her own eyes, she probably wouldn’t have believed it. In a way, then, it
was a blessing; though at the time it was as if her insides were breaking into
a thousand, agonising pieces.

But then her mother had died, and everything Raegan had ever
thought she felt was washed away.

The tartness of the grief which had winded her - the almost
acid constancy of being on the verge of tears, forever teetering, the lump in
the throat, the stinging of the eyes,
the
sensuality
of sorrow which contrasted so bitterly with the echoing, numb emptiness within
– had faded, slightly. It was now more a dull ache, a leaden, relentless sense
of ‘missing’; something she longed for which she could never find again, a part
of her which was now ragged, gaping, absent. It ate into everything – including
what she felt or thought she felt for James – until there was nothing left. No
room for anything else.

Her other life felt so far away now; weird, when it had only
been a few months, but then not so much when she remembered how it changed. For
most of her so-called friends it had been quick. Her situation was nothing new.
People got bored of dealing with it. Annie and Bex had hung on the longest but
after a while they went silent, too. When she left London for Ramsey there were
a few promises to keep in touch but no-one came to say goodbye.

In the end there hadn’t been much to leave behind. But it was
all she had. And how did you cope when you were leaving everything and nothing
at the same time?

And what about when that everything and
nothing included
you?

And that’s what frightened her most. It was the thought that
it wasn’t London or James or Annie or Bex or even her mother that she had been
trying sever all ties with. It was herself.  
Her
daydreams.
Her hopes.
Her
childhood.

Being a child meant people could hurt you. A child was too…
reliant.
Ignorant.
She didn’t want to be one anymore.

But now, as the cold winds whistled across the deck and she
hugged herself to keep warm, something shifted. For the first time, the old
Raegan didn’t seem pathetic, or naïve, or stupid. She just seemed young.
Young and fearless.

That Raegan wouldn’t be sitting on this
boat worrying about the night ahead and if she could make it through without
messing up.
That Raegan would have restless energy fizzing through her
veins, eager to get going, get started,
just
go go
go
. That Raegan had always been moving forward; she wasn’t stuck in her
sadness, like this Raegan.

Raegan didn’t know how to get back to how she used to be, if
she even could - but tonight seemed like the perfect start. She couldn’t even
remember what it felt like to do something just for fun. Oh, she was sick of
reminding herself that she was fifteen, not fifty! Tonight she would live in
the moment, and for the moment, and take things as they came.

***

St Jude’s looked different without the sun’s warmth; as
Raegan clipclopped up Crown Street, trying not to get her heels stuck in the
cobbles, she was faintly disappointed not to be greeted by the pretty pastel
shop fronts. Instead, shuttered and without illumination, their colours bled
into a uniformity of darkness. Apart from the occasional caw of a lone bird,
the deafening quietness was pierced only by a distant, continuous thud of
music. The new diner Marie had spoken of was announcing its presence, calling
the youth of St Jude’s to arms: Raegan imagined the hypnotic, pulsing
thumpa
thumpa
drawing men and women through the peaceful, sleepy streets like a
mechanised Pied Piper.

The thumping bassline proved to be the audio equivalent of a
homing beacon, and soon Raegan found herself outside the diner. MOJO’s, it
proclaimed in bold, block capitals, silver against the sleek red of its
exterior. The proprietors of the diner were taking strict precautions against
blending in by covering every free inch of the frontal with bright lights. The
effect was at once gloriously vulgar and oddly appealing. And then, sashaying
down the street towards
Raegan,
was the perfect
epitome of both. Marie looked amazing in a tight black dress and red high
heeled shoes, her highlighted hair falling in carefully sculpted waves down her
back, with meticulously co-ordinated red fingernails, toenails, and clutch
handbag, and several ropes of beads looped around her neck. It was a little
over the top, but so what?

The WAGish facade was broken almost immediately, however,
when Marie spotted Raegan. With a
  huge
grin, her
friend stuck her leg out and exclaimed loudly, ‘These shoes only cost me 20
quid, got ‘em off Ebay! Pretty cool, huh?’

Her ensuing giggle was so full of delight that Raegan
couldn’t help joining in. ‘Bargain!’ she enthused, as Marie arrived beside her.

‘You look
lush
,’ Marie clapped her hands in
congratulation, circling Raegan like a shark as she assessed her outfit. Raegan
hoped she would pass the test. Her wardrobe choices had been fairly limited but
she’d finally settled on a pair of opaque black leggings, teamed with a fitted
green dress. Jazzed up with some chunky silver jewellery and a beaded cuff
around her wrist, she didn’t think it looked too bad. Naturally curvy, the
weight had fallen off her recently, but thankfully Bridey’s delicious, stodgy
cooking had begun to creep some flesh back into the hollows of her cheeks. This
dress clung to her in all the right places; nipping in at her slimmer waist and
then flaring out over the still-curvy hips.

Now Marie was having a fit over her hair.
‘So
long!
It’s gorgeous, babe. Is it all yours?’

‘Yes,’ Raegan remarked in surprise. ‘Isn’t yours?’

Marie threw her head back and laughed.
‘Of
course not!
Extensions.’
She reached out to
finger one of Raegan’s long, red strands. ‘I’m so jealous!’

Raegan thought Marie just was being polite. Her hair was
raggedy at best and she hadn’t even had a chance to style it - all the angst
earlier in the evening had drastically cut into her getting-ready time. But
Marie could see what her new friend couldn’t: Raegan could pull it off. Her
features were not conventionally perfect - there was a small gap between her
front teeth, her nose was slightly too long, her eyes narrow, and when she
grinned her dimples deepened into lengthy laughter lines -  but these irregularities,
like the golden dusting of freckles on her nose, only enhanced her peculiar
beauty. Whether she wore make up or not, an outsider could not fail to notice
the way that the deep, bracken red hair, delicately
freckled
skin and white teeth complemented the slanting, thickly lashed blue-green eyes
perfectly, or how her face lit up when she smiled.

These natural charms, together with Marie’s flirtatiousness,
proved an instantly successful combination: they hadn’t even got inside yet but
were already attracting a great deal of attention. Most admiring of all were
the doormen, who soon ushered the pair to the top of the lengthy queue.
A good start.

Scurrying in thankfully and pulling her dress down, Raegan
found herself in a warm, rippling swarm of people, Marie at her side. She
wrinkled her nose as a mixture of aftershave and frying bacon wafted their way
and 1950s music filled her ears; but she was given no time to dwell on this.
Straight away her companion grabbed her hand and began manoeuvring them forcefully
through the throng, causing her to stumble momentarily and ricochet into an
unfamiliar, muscular chest. Flushing, Raegan shouted an apology over her
shoulder as Marie propelled her toward her quarry: a rare lone table which had
just been vacated. Leaping onto one of the stools before anyone could claim it,
Marie turned to Raegan with satisfaction.

‘Wicked!
Best table in this place.’
Hopping off nimbly, she gave Raegan’s hand a quick squeeze. ‘So, fancy a drink?
They do good cocktails here but strong - I was off my
face
last time
.
Dad grounded me for a month!’

Raegan could just imagine what Con and Bridey would say if
she came back drunk. It was not a happy thought. Looking over at the bar for
inspiration, she soon spotted a waiter wearing a paper hat, pouring something
pink, frothy, and calorific into a tall glass.

It was a no-brainer. 
‘Ooh,
strawberry milkshake, please.’
Opening her purse, she pulled out a crisp
ten pound note.

 Marie shook her head. ‘It’s on me, birthday girl.’

‘But it’s not my birthday until tomorrow,’ Raegan protested,
laughing, but Marie waved her away.

‘Zip it! I’m just chuffed you’re not one of those girls who
only drinks Diet Coke. Bor-ing!
Back in a sec.’

As Marie disappeared into the crowd, Raegan climbed onto one
of the metal stools and balanced awkwardly, discovering with some discomfort
that these were the kind of chairs that looked good but caused your bum to
slide off at various angles unless you kept it clenched the entire time.
Awesome.
Shifting from one side to other and trying to find
a more stable position, she eventually gave up and perched on the edge,
surveying her surroundings with interest. There were low-slung red leather
booths surrounding the vinyl dancefloor where girls in promdresses were already
dancing. Guitars, memorabilia and black and white photos – she recognised Elvis
Presley amongst the faces beaming out at her – adorned the walls. Gaggles of
men and women of all ages queued up giggling to choose a song on the jukebox,
as waiters and waitresses whizzed through the throng on rollerskates, holding
platters of nachos, burgers and fries above their heads. Marie was right. For
an underage venue, this place was pretty cool.

 Marie returned with two enormous milkshakes and soon
after a waitress appeared to take their food order. After she left, a slight
awkwardness sprung up between the girls, which seemed to be enhanced by the
starting chords of a love-song blaring slushily from the jukebox. They slurped
quietly for a moment.

Raegan was suddenly aware of how much she didn’t know about
the girl sitting across the table. Their revelations in the jewellery shop had
brought them together but now seemed useless – she could hardly start the
evening off with a conversation about their dead parents! Fortunately it wasn’t
long before Marie broke the silence.

‘God, it’s good to be out of the house! All this revision
has been doing my head in.’

‘Must be awesome to have a break from school, though,’
Raegan replied with a smile.

‘I wish. Dad wants me in the shop for like, the whole of our
spring break. Oh my days, he means well, but I can’t stand that place.’

‘How come?
It’s nice, I think.’
Raegan picked the strawberry off the side of her glass and popped it into her
mouth.

‘Oh, it’s alright, I suppose. I’m just not that bothered
about jewellery – I mean,
  I
wear it, but who
cares how a diamond is cut? Then I feel bad, because it means a lot to Dad but…
I find it such a snore. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Totally.
My mum was really into
art – she worked in a gallery – but I don’t get it.’ Raegan gestured at a jokey
abstract hanging nearby, which was a white canvas with bright, intermittent
bursts of colour, like fireworks on clouds. ‘You see, look at that. Mum
probably would have said it was ‘important’, a ‘retelling of sunset’, or
something. To me, it looks...well… like a load of random blobs.’

Marie looked at the painting blankly, tilting her head from
side to side as if trying to find some hidden meaning – before finally
admitting defeat, shaking her head, puzzled. The ice broken, the two girls
laughed.

‘But seriously,’ Raegan continued, ‘you should talk to your
dad. Maybe if you found another job,
  something
you’re actually interested in, then he’d understand?’

 ‘It’s just difficult, since we lost my mam.’ Marie
said the last part very quickly. ‘He has no one to talk to about this stuff. It
was their shop… it’s kind of all we have left of her.’ She looked off into the
distance, lost in thought.