This Charming Man (66 page)

Too scared – yes – that he would tell me baldly to fuck off and that would be end of that.

Hoped that could just leave it to fate, that might bump into him over weekend. Kept nervy eye out but no sign. Short relief from hideous anxiety when jumpy thoughts alighted on notion that he might be away on minibreak, down some foreign pothole. But early Monday morning, was woken by him slamming front door. Hopped out of bed and spied on him striding to eco-car, leaving for work as
normal. He didn’t look up and then knew for sure something was awry. Hated self. In despair.

Spied on him Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and today and he never once looked up. Obvious was blanking me. But I still hoped that Chloe would show up tonight, as usual.

Popped over to graveyard before it got dark.

‘Mum, I don’t want to go back to Dublin.’

‘All have to do things we don’t want. You think I wanted to die and leave you?’

‘No, but–’

‘Only ever intended to be temporary thing, you living in Knockavoy.’

‘… Okay.’ After all, was probably not really in communication with Mum. Was just listening to voice in my own head, and in fact could do exactly what wanted to…

‘Why you ask my opinion, if you just going to disregard it?’ Mum’s voice exclaimed.

… Although, of course, might be wrong on that score.

‘Am sorry. While am here, what will happen with Chloe? Will she come tonight?’

No answer.

‘Mum? Mum?’

‘You will have to wait and see.’

Phone rang. Bridie.

‘Come in, Lola Daly, your time is up! Believe you’re being turfed out of house.’

‘Yes.’

‘So question is, are you well enough to come home or are you still nuts? Ask me, I think you’re worse. You went down to Knockavoy nice heterosexual girl, now you coming back part-lezzer.’

‘Is there purpose to this phone call, Bridie?’ Attitude of coldness. ‘Or are you doing it simply to taunt me?’

‘Only joking. You seemed sane enough in Edinburgh. So how you feel about de Courcy?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘You wish him well? You feel you could throw confetti at his wedding? Only truly over a man when you can throw confetti at his wedding.’

‘Certainly don’t feel like that.’

But no longer thought about Paddy every waking second and no longer dreamt about him every night. The days were gone when was hair-rendingly crazy because couldn’t be with him. In fact – narrowing feelings down here – didn’t
want
to see him. Actually didn’t want to. Ever again. Now that was new.

Also something else new, but couldn’t identify it. Sadness? No. Longing? No. Grief? No. Anger? Getting warmer. Hate?… Mmm, maybe, but not quite… not
exactly
… something… what was it? Fear? Could it be fear? Yes, might be fear.

Natasha and Blanche arrived.

Dolores arrived.

Sue arrived.

As I granted her admission, was frantic with anxiety.

‘Where’s Chloe?’ Sue asked.

‘Not coming tonight,’ Natasha said. ‘Yes, Lola, sorry, forgot to tell you. Chloe texted me. Can’t make it tonight.’

‘Why not?’ My voice shrill. And why she not text me? She had my number.

‘Didn’t say why. Now, does my penis look big in this?’

Sat girls down and broke news that current arrangement was nearing an end.

‘Tom Twoomey’s family want the house for minibreaks. And time I went back to Dublin for work.’

‘Oh,’ Natasha said. ‘When you going?’

When indeed? ‘Sometime in next two weeks.’

Nothing to stop me from going right now – wouldn’t take ten minutes to fling clothes back into suitcases – but needed time to come to terms with departure.

The girls exchanged glances and shrugged and one of them said, ‘Always knew it couldn’t last for ever.’

Baffling response. Had expected wailing and gnashing of teeth and pleas to stay. Instead atmosphere of mature acceptance. Why? The disco before Christmas, that was why. Had shown the trannies that there was great big trannie world out there. They didn’t need me any more.

‘You’ve outgrown me,’ I said, then broke down into choking sobs. ‘You came to me as little fledgling chicks and now… now… YOU’REALLGROWNUP!’

‘Thought you’d be glad,’ Natasha said sourly. ‘You’ve done nothing but complain.’

Got up, got dressed and left house. After sleepless night was finally doing right thing. Was going to talk to Rossa Considine.

Eco-swot car in drive, hopefully he at home and not down a pothole. Also hopefully not in bed with Gillian. Although they didn’t seem to do that – spend the day in bed. They were Up And At ’Em outdoorsy types.

Considine opened door as if he’d been expecting me. Followed me into sitting room, where we perched on edge of couch, ill at ease and sad. Strange atmosphere prevailed as if we’d once been in love, but it was all over now.

‘You didn’t come last night?’ I said.

‘No. Told Noel to tell you.’

‘He did. Rossa, my behaviour that night we escaped from the guards, I assure you it won’t happen again –’

‘Is okay –’

‘I apologize, Rossa, I sincerely do. And to Gillian. From bottom of my heart. Am so ashamed. But will never happen again. Was just insane, adrenaline, mad moment. Please come back, we miss Chloe.’

‘Sorry, Lola,’ he said with regret. ‘Chloe’s gone for a while.’

‘I promise won’t lay finger on her –’

‘Nothing to do with you, Lola. Not your fault. Just one of those things… for the best…’

‘But –’ Tears in my eyes! For mythical character!

‘Sorry, Lola,’ Considine said with infinite kindness. ‘Know how much you liked her. Oh please don’t cry, Lola, come here.’ Took me on his lap the way Chloe used to and I sobbed against his shirt.

‘Will she be back?’

‘Probably, yes, at some stage, just… you know…’

Didn’t. Must be something to do with Gillian. Maybe she’d finally started kicking up at her boyfriend wearing ladies’ clothing.

‘But by time Chloe comes back, I’ll be gone.’

‘What?’ Barked word out. He sat up straight, nearly sending me toppling onto floor. His body rigid and no longer comfortable to lean against.

‘Yes, Considine. Have to go back to Dublin. Twoomey family want the house and I need to go back to job.’ At thought of leaving, cried all the harder. Remarkably sad.

‘When you going?’

‘Don’t know. Haven’t decided yet. Can’t bear to. Soon, though. Next two weeks.’

‘Right.’

His body sagged and although once again comfortable to lean on, it was different, not as pleasant, like a couch that has lost its oomph. Felt the weight of his head, leaning against mine. Mood a peculiar grieving one. Like we were both mourning loss of Chloe. Know it sounds stupid, but simply telling it like it was.

Considine patted hand on my back and my sobbing slowed, then stopped. I closed eyes. Feeling a bit calmer. Warm. Nice smell from Considine’s throat. Big, big sigh came all the way up from pit of my belly. Exhaled in long, loose breath of acceptance. Pushed self away from him. ‘I’d better get up, Rossa Considine. If stay any longer, will fall asleep.’

‘Lola, sorry I’ve upset you –’

‘S’okay, s’okay.’ Had done my best. And was leaving Knockavoy anyway. Leaving all of this trannie-malarkey behind.

‘You want come over on Wednesday for
Law and Order?’
he asked. ‘One final time?’

‘Thought it was on on Thursday night.’

‘New year. New schedule. On on Wednesday nights now. You come over?’

‘… okay…’ Hadn’t got what had come for, but okay…

Knockavoy main street
Saw Jake and his mouth sauntering along in Love-God fashion on other side of street. Braced self for insults. But he gave cheery wave, devoid of bitterness, obsession, insanity. So it is true! According to usual sources (Cecile) he is fully restored to old cocksure self. He has reduced Jaz to shell of a girl, made casual, cruel attempt over Christmas/New Year wasteland of time to come between Kelly and Brandon and is now embroiled with engaged woman from ‘out Lis-cannor way.’ I am blip on his otherwise impeccable record.

Supermarket
New
Vogue
in! Kelly had it on special order for self. Obliged to tell her to cease and desist as would be returning to Dublin. She expressed sadness at my imminent departure then turned attention to shockingly high cost of
Vogue
.

‘Nearly a tenner!’ she cried, clinking change out into my upturned hand. ‘And nothing in it but ads! Hey!’ All excited. ‘How you get that mark?’

‘What mark?’

‘That.’ She indicated small, baldy-looking circle of shiny pink skin in middle of my palm. ‘Is it burn? You self-harmer?’ she asked eagerly. Kelly fascinated by lifestyles of starlet types she reads about in cheap magazines – little girls with big handbags, bulimia and spells in rehab under their belt before eighteenth birthday. ‘Would love to meet real self-harmer.’

‘Birthmark,’ I said apologetically. ‘Born with it.’ Then added, because she looked so disappointed, ‘Sorry.’

Passing the Dungeon
‘Ho, Lola Daly! A word, if you please.’

I stepped in.

‘Item of gossip for you,’ Boss said.

‘Hot,’ Moss said.

‘Red-hot,’ the Master confirmed.

Shameful thrill ran through me. This trio know everything. Whatever they told me would be true.

‘Are you ready?’ Boss asked.

I nodded.

‘Gillian Kilbert…’

‘… also known as Ferret-Face…’

‘… and Osama the barman…’

‘… are an item.’

Extreme shock.

Gillian and Osama? Was seized with terror. This my fault? Had I driven wedge between Gillian and Considine, propelling Gillian on ‘revenge fling’?

‘Does Rossa know?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘So how do you know?’

‘Expected it. Have watched situation with interest since they first began going to them Danish films together on a Friday night.’

‘Thought they were both ripe for it,’ the Master said. ‘Little bird tells me Considine and Ferret-Face haven’t done the needful for many weeks. In fact, not since the night they got back together.’

‘How the hell you know that?’ Bad, burny feeling at invasion of Considine’s privacy.

‘Small town. Anyway, sure enough, instead of coming straight home from Ennis, Gillian and Osama have taken to parking the car half a mile out the road there, and snogging the heads off each other.’

‘They didn’tgoto film at all last night,’ Boss said. ‘Just parked the car in their favourite spot… and… well, you know yourself.’

Bad, burny feeling intensified. ‘Have you nothing better to do than spy on people?’

Startled hiatus. ‘What’s up, Lola?’ Boss upset. ‘Thought you’d enjoy the bit of news.’

‘Not right that I know and that Rossa doesn’t.’

‘Someone will tell him soon enough.’ Moss seemed to think that this was good thing.

But not!

Sudden and extreme compassion for Considine. Proud man. And although sometimes cranky, a decent man. I too have been the rejected sap in my time.

I should tell him.

But could I? Despised all that nosy-parker, fake-sympathy, ‘Thought you should know…’

Although my sympathy not fake.

And if did break news to Considine, he would hate me for evermore. Messengers always got the blame. Did not want him to hate me for evermore. Discovered unexpected fondness for him.

‘You leaving?’ Alco’s Corner cried, as I got to my feet.

‘Yes.’ Needed to think about this.

Left pub, to sounds of Boss muttering, ‘Don’t know what’sup with her.’

Jesus Christ! As stepped out into daylight, first person I encountered was Gillian. I was rooted to spot with guilt, shock, then more guilt.

‘Hello, Lola, happy new year.’ She stopped for chat. Seemed in blithe good form.

‘… Erm…’

‘… You okay…?’

Cripes alive. Was trying to decide what right thing was. She was right in my path – what were chances of that happening? Was she there for reason? But this was hard. A) I was fine one to bloody well talk, having made pass at her boyfriend, even though not him was interested in, but his lady alter ego. B) Interfering in other people’s affairs anathema to city person like myself.

‘Gillian.’ Cleared throat. ‘Is none of my business and am not passing judgement, really not at all, but heard… heard that you and Osama, I mean Ibrahim, have been…’

What would I say? All sounded sordid. Fumbling in lay-bys?

‘… You know what am getting at?’ I said, mortified.

She was staring, ferret-face immobile, eyes full of fear.

‘People talking about it,’ I said. ‘Rossa will find out. Would probably be better if he heard it from you.’

‘Where you hear? Not in there?’ She tipped her head at the Dungeon, her little face white as milk.

I inclined chin in reluctant assent. Would not wish this fate on worst enemy – Boss, Moss and the Master being privy to their intimate business.

‘Fuck,’ she whispered. ‘Okay.’ She nodded, nodded, nodded, then scampered up the street and dived into the Oak, no doubt to consult Ol’ Prune Eyes.

Not spying. No. Simply happened to be cleaning windows in preparation for my departure when saw Ferret-Face and Ol’ Prune Eyes approach up the road, reeking of determination. Like gunfight at the OK Corral. At Considine’s they turned right into his boreen. Rapped on door and short while later were granted admission. Door shut firmly behind them.

I listened hard, anticipating perhaps shouting and crashing of breaking crockery, but heard nothing.

Ferret-Face and Ol’ Prune Eyes emerged, heads bowed in what assumed was shame. Could discern nothing further.

Cleaning oven, although had barely used it during Knockavoy sojourn, when heard knock on the door.

Rossa Considine leaning against door jamb, looking mildly dishevelled.

‘Badger’s arse,’ he said.

‘Have you?’

‘Your badger’s arse night. You were promised one and you never got it. How you feel about doing it tonight? Right now?’