Missing Ellen (5 page)
Authors: Natasha Mac a'Bháird
‘No, I’ve got a match on Saturday morning,’ said Liam. ‘You should come!’ He looked at Ellen as he said this, and again I felt that strange pang.
‘Thanks but I reckon we’ll be too tired after Friday night,’ said Ellen.
‘Oh, you’re going to the disco then?’ Liam said eagerly. ‘Should be a good night.’
‘Yeah, we’re really looking forward to it, aren’t we, Maggie?’ Ellen said, nudging me. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world!’
‘Great! Do you need a lift?’ Liam asked, doing his best to look nonchalant, but I could see he was practically holding his breath waiting for Ellen’s reply. ‘I mean, my mum has her bridge night anyway, she could drop us off on the way. You too, of course, Maggie,’ he added.
I could hardly look at him. He was so eager and yet trying to act cool, and we weren’t even going to be there.
‘Oh it’s OK,’ Ellen said hastily. ‘I’m staying over at
Maggie
’s that night so we’ll probably just get ready at her place. See you there though, OK?’
‘Sure. See you then!’
‘So, looks like I’m staying at your place then!’ Ellen giggled as we walked away. ‘You don’t mind do you?’
‘No, of course not. I was going to suggest it anyway,’ I said. This was true. My mother was always slightly anxious when I was going out, and with Mrs B being so unpredictable at the moment I think she didn’t really trust her to pick us up when she said she would.
‘Great! We can pool our make-up and see what works best with our new tops. I was thinking green shimmer with mine, what do you reckon?’
‘Mmmm … sounds nice.’
I glanced back at Liam. I felt so sorry for him. Couldn’t Ellen see how much he liked her?
Dear Ellen,
I saw Liam today at lunchtime. He was sitting in the square on his own, just texting on his phone. He reminded me a bit of Heathcliff actually, all sort of brooding and melancholy. If you can imagine Heathcliff in a school uniform, and holding a mobile phone that is.
I wanted to go over and talk to him, but I felt a bit funny about it. I know he’s missing you too.
Some days I feel like I just can’t wait to get out of here. I think of the two of us at college, sharing a flat, where there’s no one to check up on us or ask us endless questions about where we’re going and what time we’ll be home.
Where we’re going, of course, is to parties, and concerts, and on double dates with strings of unsuitable men. And the
next day we’ll sit around outside cafes drinking black coffee and laughing our heads off about these guys, and everything else. And maybe, eventually, when the right one comes along, falling in love.
We might go to the occasional lecture too, of course, if it doesn’t interfere with our social lives too much. And at
weekends
I’ll drag you along to car boot sales to look for vintage tea dresses and faux pearl necklaces, and you can drag me along to gigs in cellar bars where we sit at high stools and drink cocktails while watching the band.
Liam keeps popping up in these daydreams too, though I can’t quite work out how he fits in. He’s just there, helping himself to cups of tea in our flat, or sitting beside us in a
lecture
, or hanging around in the background at one of the
parties
, making sure we’re both OK.
You will be back by then Ellen, won’t you? I’m keeping this notebook safe for you because I want to believe you’ll read it some day, and you’ll know I never stopped hoping you’d come home.
Love,
Maggie.
My dad decided to do a barbecue on the night of the disco. Mum invited Robert over to play with Jamie and stay the night along with Ellen. I knew she wanted to give Mrs B a break. She even went over to collect them.
Ellen was barely out of the car before she started. ‘Let’s start getting ready right away. We need to see what eye shadow works best!’
‘Don’t you think you should wait until after dinner?’ Mum said to me. ‘You don’t want to spill something on your party dress.’
Is she ever going to stop embarrassing me like this? Are mums genetically programmed to embarrass you and treat you like a little kid? ‘Oh Mum, I’m not going to spill
something
. And I’m not wearing a
party dress
! Stop treating me like I’m five years old.’
Mum relented. ‘Go on then, the two of you may as well start getting ready. Off you go upstairs. Boys, you can go
outside
and play football until dinner’s ready.’
‘Come on, Maggie, let’s get you into your flowery dress, or is it your pink frilly one?’ Ellen teased me as we went upstairs. ‘And then I can put your hair in two plaits for you if you like!’
‘Stop it – it’s bad enough her doing it,’ I grumbled. ‘She’s driving me crazy with questions about the disco, who’s going to be there, what time will it be over, blah blah blah!
Honestly
I wish she’d just leave me alone.’
‘At least she cares about you,’ Ellen said, a funny hard tone in her voice. ‘I don’t think my mum even gets that there’s a disco on.’
I stared at her. ‘Sorry, Ellen, I didn’t mean … I’m sure your
mum …’ I trailed off.
Ellen was rummaging in her bag, her back to me. ‘Look, here’s my purple sparkly eye shadow,’ she said. ‘Try it on.’
‘Are you OK?’ I asked.
‘Why wouldn’t I be? I’m young, free and single, I have new clothes and a gig to wear them to!’ She spun around the room, tossing me her purple top and holding the green one up again herself.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me wearing the top?’ I asked for the fifteenth time. I felt bad about borrowing something Ellen hadn’t even worn yet. Knowing Siobhan Brady she’d probably notice the next time Ellen wore it and use it as yet another thing to taunt her with.
‘Course I don’t mind. I want to wear the green one anyway. Brings out the colour of my eyes,’ Ellen said,
applying
mascara to her long lashes.
Through the open window I could hear the boys
shouting
, another game of football underway, and Dad humming a Beatles song out of tune as he flipped burgers. They smelled delicious and I could feel my stomach growling.
I put on the purple top. It really was nice. I twisted from side to side in front of the mirror, admiring it.
‘Ellen! Ellen!’
Robert was shouting from the garden.
Ellen leaned out the window. ‘What is it?’
‘Come and play football with us!’
I was about to tell him to get lost, but Ellen said ‘OK, just give us a minute!’
I groaned. ‘Not football again!’
‘Oh come on, we can give them a few minutes, it’s not much of a game with only one on each team!’
I dabbed at the purple eye shadow. Were the sparkles just a bit too sparkly? I didn’t want to look overdone.
‘Have you not finished beautifying yourself yet?’ Ellen demanded. ‘Come on, you’re gorgeous! Let’s go and give them a quick game before the barbecue’s ready. I’ll even let you go in goal!’
I followed her downstairs and out to the garden. It really wasn’t warm enough for a barbecue yet, but my dad always takes it out at the first sign of sun. He just loves the image of himself as a chef, standing at the barbecue in his blue and white stripy apron, preparing macho food for his family. Cooking normal food indoors is clearly not the same.
‘Come on then, who’s on my team?’ Ellen demanded.
‘You’re not playing football in those sandals, are you?’ my mum asked, smiling.
‘Nope!’ Ellen kicked them off and ran onto the grass in her bare feet. ‘Right, Robert, you’re with me. Jamie, come and play, Maggie’s going to go in goal.’
Soon she was running about like a loon, not caring that her carefully styled hair was getting all messed up. I’m not really a fan of football, but I couldn’t help enjoying myself,
her mood was as infectious as ever.
‘Food’s ready!’ Dad called.
We all trooped over to the picnic table, red-faced and tired. My mum shivered, pulling her cardigan closer. ‘I really think it’s a bit early to be eating in the garden. Don’t you think we should go indoors?’
‘Of course not!’ said Dad, shocked. ‘It’s not a barbecue if you eat it indoors. Put on another layer. Here, you can have my fleece.’ He wrapped it carefully around her shoulders and she smiled up at him. He gave her one of those lovey-dovey looks which used to embarrass the hell out of me, but which I now think are kind of sweet.
I saw Ellen gazing at them, that hard look beginning to creep into her face again.
‘So chef, what’s on the menu tonight?’ I said hastily.
‘Oooh, Ballymaloe relish instead of ketchup,’ Ellen said. ‘Aren’t we posh!’
‘Oh, it’s not just the relish,’ I said. ‘We have homemade chips and everything.’
‘No frozen chips in my house!’ Dad said. ‘They’re an abomination. Give me homemade chips any day. Although a trip to the chipper for an occasional treat is fine by me.’
‘Well, let’s get it into us! No time to waste, the disco awaits!’ Ellen said.
‘What’s up with you two this evening?’ my mother asked with a laugh. ‘You’re wound up. Anyone would think this
was your first time at a disco!’
Ellen laughed. ‘Not really, but somehow it feels like a first all the same!’
Mum dropped us off at the disco, reminding us about fourteen times that she would collect us at midnight.
Ellen grabbed my arm and marched me in the direction of the hall door, keeping an eye all the time on my mum’s car. As soon as it turned the corner she changed direction, pulling me around the corner and out of sight of the parents dropping off their teenagers.
‘Now!’ she said.
Dear Ellen,
I’ve asked Mum to stop collecting me from school. It’s not a very long walk home, only about forty-five minutes if I walk quickly. Maybe an hour if I dawdle. It makes a nice change, anyway. I don’t have to go straight from Fuddy Duddy
rabbitting
on to Mum asking questions and Jamie bouncing around in his booster seat pointing out every motorbike and tractor that we pass. I like to just walk and walk and not have to listen to anyone.
Some days I walk past the sweet factory. The air around it is filled with the smell of chocolate and orange, or strawberry, or mint. Sometimes it makes me think of the time we went on a school tour there. We were so excited to see the whole process of sweets being made, the machines and big vats, and all the
noises and smells. It felt like we were in Willy Wonka’s
chocolate
factory, and I half expected to see an Oompa Loompa peeping at me around a corner.
Other days, going past the sweet factory reminds me of their float in the St Patrick’s Day parade. It was always our favourite. Every year they had a new theme, always
something
magical and full of bright colours, and the staff dressed up in their costumes would throw sweets to all the children in the crowd.
Sometimes I walk through the park. The leaves have all changed colour, reds and oranges and browns, and great mounds of them rise at the edge of the path, where the park keepers have swept them. I glance all around me to see if
anyone
’s watching. If the coast is clear, I step off the path and kick my way through the leaves, liking the way they rise up before me and float back down to resettle somewhere else. When I get to the end I turn to look back. The piles are a little
flatter
, the leaves a little more scattered, but anyone looking at them for the first time wouldn’t know that someone had just walked through them. There’s no trace of me at all.
At first Mum wasn’t very happy about me walking home alone. She raised all sorts of objections. What if it rained? What about my heavy schoolbag, how would I manage that? Wouldn’t I be too tired to do my homework by the time I got home? I answered her quietly and calmly. It’s my new
technique
. I find it’s a far better way of getting what I want than
arguing and screaming and slamming doors. She thinks I’m being rational and mature, when actually all I am being is sneaky in a new way.
Soon it will be getting darker earlier. I expect Mum will want to start collecting me again. She won’t want me walking through the park after dark. So I’d better enjoy the silence while it lasts.
Love,
Maggie.
‘We’ll have to wait a few minutes,’ Ellen said. ‘Give
everyone
a chance to get in. We don’t want someone’s mum or dad seeing us and asking awkward questions.’
I peeped around the corner. Three cars were pulled up outside, boys and girls jumping out, parents shouting
instructions
and reminders about pick-up times. No sign of Liam – maybe he was already inside.
I rubbed my arms, feeling cold in Ellen’s purple top. She had insisted that we leave our jackets at home, saying we didn’t want the bother of looking after them. Though for some reason she’d brought a large shoulder bag with her – it was hot pink and made of straw, the kind of thing you’d bring to the beach for a day out, instead of her usual small glittery one that was just about big enough to hold a lip gloss and some money.
I soon found out the reason for the bag.
‘Anyone watching?’ she asked me, rooting around in the bag.
I checked again. ‘No one near, everyone’s heading straight in. A few more cars dropping people off. Siobhan Brady’s wearing a ridiculous amount of eye shadow. She looks like she’s got two black eyes.’
I turned around. Ellen had pulled a short black skirt over her jeans and was now wriggling out of the jeans
underneath
.
‘Didn’t think your mum would approve of this skirt!’ she said. I didn’t think so either. It barely covered her knickers.
She quickly shoved her jeans into the bag. She looked amazing. I wished I had the guts to wear a skirt like that.
‘You look fab!’ I said, trying to keep the envy out of my voice.
Ellen shrugged. She was so used to compliments she just took them in her stride.
‘What’s happening now?’
I peeped again. ‘Still a few stragglers going in.’
The cold was really getting to me now. And I didn’t know how Ellen could bear it – she wasn’t even wearing any tights. Her feet were in silver sandals and she had painted her toe nails a deep cherry red. I thought of everyone gathering inside the club, taking up the usual positions – girls hanging around near the DJ, giggling behind their hands,
surreptitiously
pointing out a boy they think their friend fancies.
Boys joking, shoving each other and laughing; some of the quieter ones lurking at the sides, drinking cans of Coke and not talking to anyone. Glances exchanged across the room, catching someone’s eye, holding their gaze just a fraction longer than necessary. Liam was probably chatting to his mates while keeping an eye on the door to make sure he saw Ellen as soon as she arrived.
