I pull my hand back and shake it out. ‘Ow.’
‘Anything new with yourself?’
‘I’m just getting ready for New Mexico. I’m after booking the flights. Only six days to go, Katie.’ She yawns wide like a cat, stretches her slender arms way above her head, swinging them backwards and forwards with her fingers hooked together. ‘It’s the sort of festival that really kick-starts a film-maker’s career. There’ll be loads of like-minded people there. Producers. Cinematographers. Screenwriters. All sorts of cool people like that.’
‘Did you ever write a screenplay?’
‘Oh, I did, yeah. Several. I wrote one about a man who buys a second-hand coat and the original owner of the coat was a psychopath, and now the man who bought the second-hand coat is a psychopath too because of the ghost living in the coat.’
‘I like that. That’s original. I’d watch that.’
‘Peadar’s written a screenplay as well.’
‘Has he.’ She hasn’t a bull’s notion about Stacey Nugent and the goings-on over years and years, but I can’t bring myself to break her heart. Not before she goes to New Mexico. I couldn’t do that to her. It could turn her away from me altogether.
‘It’s about a painting that people keep stealing because of the way it makes them feel. The painting starts a war.’
‘Oh.’ I’m intrigued. ‘What sort of painting is it?’
‘We don’t know yet. The concept is still in development.’ She rolls up a tuna sandwich and stuffs it in her cupid’s-bow mouth.
‘Maybe everyone who looks at the painting sees something different in it,’ I suggest.
‘Maybe. Myself and Peadar spent four days on Doona Island last summer. We wrote the two screenplays in full. We lived off boiled frankfurters and tea and we decided to send our film out to festivals, and we decided we’d move to London as well. It was the actual best four days of my life.’
‘Is that so.’
‘Myself and Peadar are one another’s muse. We can’t live without each other. That’s the way it is between us. It’s very intense.’
‘Will you have a scone there, Evelyn?’ I say, keeping the smile wide. You can hear the smile in a person’s voice. ‘And you must take some cake home with you. I’ve enough for ten people. I’ll wrap it up in tinfoil for you.’ Afternoon tea is all the rage in Dublin with gangs of friends going to posh hotels together, nattering over cakes and sandwiches and drinking copious amounts of tea until they’re reeling in the head.
‘I’m really not that hungry,’ she says languidly, and I’m annoyed with myself. I shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. She isn’t an afternoon tea kind of person. I’ve made myself look desperate, going to so much effort to win her favour. Bending over backwards to make her feel special when she already feels special enough. ‘Had you a boyfriend yourself up in Dublin?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t call him a boyfriend. We only spent a short time together. It was more of a fling.’
‘What was he like?’
‘He was an illustrator. He was French. Unreal-looking. He was working in a coffee shop.’
‘An illustrator working in a coffee shop,’ she snorts. ‘Where is he now?’
‘He’s gone over to a music festival in Rio, and then he’s going back to France to become a lawyer or something.’
‘It sounds like he hasn’t got his shit together. Bouncing around from one thing to another. Did you love him?’
‘No. But I was mad after him. I was high as a kite when I was with him.’ I think of the last time I saw Luc and him dodging Nuala’s cutlery at the apartment door. I never heard from him again after that.
Evelyn lets out a sigh. ‘It’s funny. Peadar says he doesn’t see a future here in Glenbruff. He says he’s only gasping to get out. And Daddy’s very hard on him as well. You know what Daddy’s like.’ She toys with her hoop earring, swirling it through the pierced hole in her earlobe. ‘But there’s something up with him recently. Something’s different with him.’
‘What’s different?’
‘Every free minute he has he’s gone off on the motorbike, going one place or another. I haven’t seen him in days,’ she confides, looking discomfited and shifting about in the chair.
‘What do you make of it?’
‘I’d be worried he won’t come to London because of the bike. I know it sounds daft but the bike’s all he’s interested in.’
‘Would you say he has cold feet? He said he doesn’t like city living. He said it at the bonfire.’
‘I had thought he was just making conversation, but maybe there was something in it. Maybe he does have cold feet.’ She swallows anxiously.
‘If he changed his mind about London, what would you do? Would you still go?’ I’d be tempted now to unleash the truth about Peadar and Stacey. It’s on the tip of my tongue, dancing there and poised to leap.
‘I can’t bring myself to even think of it, Katie. I can’t be without him.’ She rests her jaw on her fist.
‘Mm.’ I’d say the thoughts of me going over to London with her hasn’t even entered her head. What if she goes over there without me and takes up all the opportunities and attention and praise until there’s none left.
‘I’m hoping the bike is only a phase. He’s always going through one phase or another. He’s always been like that.’ The thought strikes me that if I don’t get going to London with Evelyn, I might have to think about letting go of her. ‘What’s your story, anyway? What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you since the screening.’
‘Oh, I haven’t been up to much.’
‘That’s not what I heard. I heard you’ve been going around with Aidan.’
‘We’ve been hanging out a small bit. Going for walks. Taking photographs at the lake and that sort of thing. It’s casual.’
‘Have you kissed him?’
‘I have,’ I admit.
‘I knew it.’ She slaps her hand off her thigh. ‘Isn’t he the sly dog.’
‘How do you mean, the sly dog?’
‘You hardly had your suitcase in the door but he was after you.’ She pulls at another sandwich, rolls it up and stuffs it in her mouth, grinning all the while as her teeth gnash up and down.
‘What do you mean?’ I have to wait for her to finish chewing, wait for her to swallow the gluey sandwich. ‘Come out with it, would you.’
‘No one else will go out with him, Katie. And it’s not for the lack of him trying. He’s had a crack at every girl in Glenbruff and no luck. You’re the fall-back option.’ My heart drops like a cold stone. ‘You’d a thing for him for years and he didn’t bother with you. It suits him now to take up with you.’ God. She’s right. Of course she’s right. Didn’t I know it in my gut. Only for Evelyn I wouldn’t have put my finger on it. ‘Did he tell you he gave up the drink?’
‘No. Why’d he give up the drink?’ How could I have missed it? Isn’t he always making tea and taking me out for coffee, not to mention taking photos of ducks with his preposterous-looking camera.
‘He was hauled out of Donovan’s for smashing things. He ripped the picture frames off the walls and broke them. He ran his arm along the counter and knocked all the drinks off it. Only for Kenneth having the place now he wouldn’t be let back in.’ She abruptly rises out of the chair and the chair legs screech along the tiles. ‘Anyways, Katie. It was good seeing you but I’ve things for doing.’
‘Oh. Right. Will you bring some of the cake with you?’
‘No. I hate cake. I thought you knew that. I’ve always been more of a savoury person,’ she says, and lets herself out the back door.
I pile the leftover afternoon tea onto a tray and lash a sheet of tinfoil over it, and moments later, Robert saunters in and peeps under the tinfoil. ‘Is this for public consumption?’
‘Evelyn wasn’t hungry,’ I reply absently, thinking hard about Aidan and how I’m only the fall-back girl. It seems I can have nothing for myself.
‘Are you cold?’
‘No,�
�� I say tersely. ‘I’m grand.’ Don Henley is playing on the radio: ‘Boys of Summer’.
‘Here. Have my jumper.’ Aidan peels off his jumper and places it around my shoulders. ‘There you are now,’ he says, and I grit my teeth. This is toe-curling stuff. ‘Have you ever thought of nursing, Katie? You’d make a grand nurse, so you would. You’ve a lovely way about you.’ He doesn’t know me at all. He never bothered to get to know me. He has some idea in his head about who I am and it’s the wrong idea.
‘I’d have no interest in nursing, Aidan. None whatsoever.’ I light up a cigarette in the silver car. It’s old now, with moss growing in the seams of the windows, and the upholstery stinks of stale apple cores.
‘Would you be smoking all the time these days,’ he says, looking over at me with a disapproving expression. ‘Would you be smoking every day?’
‘Sometimes. It depends. When I’ve a lot on my mind.’
‘I have to say, I don’t like it when girls smoke. It’s unfeminine.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’
That’s it now. I can’t let it go any further. I have to put a stop to the whole thing.
‘I’m starting to think that we mightn’t be right for one another. I’m starting to think it’s best if we stay friends.’ It’s slipped out, but Jesus, it had to be said. ‘I’m sorry.’ I am a bit, but it’s his doing. I sneak a brief glance over at him, and see that his jaw is hard and grinding over and back beneath the skin. I have a sharp pang of pity for him. I’ve never before ended things with a person. I never imagined I’d be ending things with Aidan.
The time begins to slow, begins to churn. A half a minute gone. The silence is desperate.
‘We would’ve been great,’ he murmurs eventually. ‘We would’ve been perfect. You’re the last person I thought would let me down.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I’m worrying over what to do with the hot cigarette butt between my fingers. There’s no suitable place to put it. ‘It’s a pity it didn’t work out between us. But we’ll always be good friends.’
All of a sudden, he raises clenched fists and crashes them down hard off the loose plastic dash. I yelp, and the miniature Virgin Mary hops over on her painted head and topples to the floor. ‘Friends? I’m not your fucking friend. Are you trying to wind me up?’ He jolts out of the driver seat, pushes his face close to mine and roars, ‘Let’s be fucking clear about this. You’re ruining fucking everything. Do you hear me.’ Droplets of warm spit are flying at me. He’s pointing in my face. ‘I’ve done all the right fucking things. I’ve been a gentleman to you.’
I squeeze my eyes tightly and mash myself up against the door. ‘You h-have. You’ve been a gentleman. I never said you weren’t. You’ve been lovely.’
‘I suppose you think you’re too good for me now. Is that it?’ The roar out of him. My ears are ringing.
‘No. That’s not it.’
‘You’re another one who won’t give me a fucking chance. Another closed-minded bitch. I don’t know what’s your fucking problem.’
We’re parked up close to the Vaudeville. There isn’t a sinner about. If anything happens me, no one will hear me scream. He could do anything he wants to me and no one would ever know. He retreats back in his seat, panting, and I pull hard on the door handle to no avail.
‘Lookit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay.’ He clenches the steering wheel, collecting himself. I scrabble at the handle, frantic. I’m caught. Trapped. ‘Will you stop fussing. Will you fucking relax. You’re making me nervous.’
‘I’ll faint. Open the door or I’ll faint.’ He hesitates before leaning across me, grunting and forcing the door handle. I dart out of the car. Go!
‘Hey. Hey! Get back in the car. Get back here,’ he bellows. I’m running, and whimpering out of fear, and now the car is rolling alongside me. ‘Get in. Come on to fuck.’
I keep running. The projectile tears are shooting out of my eyes. He throws his hand up and the silver Toyota accelerates away up the road in a cloud of dust.
I pelt like mad in the direction of home, my throat and lungs burning with the effort, and then, like some kind of godsend, I spot Tom Lynch coming along in the tractor. I flag him down, and he gives me a lift then in the tractor cab, and as if I haven’t been through enough already, Tom is raving on and on about Maeve. ‘The poor girl is very low. Will ye mind her? Will ye call in to see her?’ I’m too rattled to even listen to him, and I’m fit to burst by the time I get home. I run into the house and don’t speak to anyone, and I have a long shower to dull the tremors.
Aidan’s unhinged. I had some idea in my head about who he was, and it was the wrong idea. He had me well fooled with the slacks and loafers. The custard creams. You’d have to wonder if Pamela ever tried breaking up with him. You’d have to wonder if he did away with her himself. He must have done away with her, he surely did away with her, and me only a whitewash, a part of the façade. Just a nice girl to have on his arm for going to weddings with. To think it could have been me if I’d got what I wanted. To think that Pamela took my place.
Two days later, and I’m only just steady enough to go up and tell Evelyn what happened at the Vaudeville, but there’s something even more pressing going on for her by the looks of it. ‘What’s the matter?’ I say, rushing at her. ‘Had you bad news?’ It’s four in the afternoon and Evelyn’s in her dressing gown with coffee stains down the front of it and make-up round the collar. There’s a roll of toilet paper crammed into one of the pockets and a trail of paper hanging out of it.
She slumps onto the bottom step of the stairs and buries her face in her hands. ‘Peadar says he won’t come to London.’
I sit down next to her on the step. ‘What? How come, Evelyn? How come? What’s he said?’
She looks up, bleary-eyed. ‘He says he likes the singing in Donovan’s – and going around on the bike – and the bit of trucking – hic – and he’s made his mind up not to go. He says he’s happy as he is – and why would he be changing things when he has everything going his way.’
‘I thought it was all planned out. I thought he was on board. Why did he go around making the film with you if he didn’t want to pursue the film-making? What sort of carry-on is that.’
‘It was me pulling him along the whole time, dragging him round the place. He only took credit for it,’ she says bitterly.
‘What about the four days on Doona? What about the screenplay he came up with?’
‘It was a shite idea for a screenplay. A painting that starts a war. Have you ever heard anything as daft.’ I had thought it had potential. ‘What am I to do now? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him and he’s not answering. And New Mexico only a few days away. I’m trying to pack for it and I can’t think straight. It’s a pure disaster.’
‘I’ll help you. Come on and we’ll go up to the room and I’ll help you. We’ll have you packed in no time.’ I wrap my arm round her waist and heave her up the stairs and into her bedroom, where there’s an eye-watering mound of clothing covering her bed and countless shoes strewn all over the floor.
She drapes herself over a beanbag and begins shuddering and weeping into the chenille-fabric covering. ‘What’ll I do, Katie? I’m stuck. I’ve my heart set on London.’ She’s in a bad way, as bad as the time she didn’t get into the art college. ‘I’ll die if I’ve to stay in Glenbruff. I’ll just die.’ I’d say she might be sick on herself if she doesn’t let up with the crying. I might have to call for Doctor Fitz if there’s no let up to it soon.
I crouch down next to her, smoothing her hair. ‘Is there any hope at all he’ll go?’
‘There’s no hope. He hasn’t an ounce of ambition when it comes down to it. It’s like trying to get blood out of a turnip.’ I picture Peadar driving along in the big truck, altogether in his element, belting out songs and beating out the rhythm on the steering wheel. What need has Peadar for film-making and going to London with nothing at all to prove to anyone.
‘You’ll be stronge
r without him, Evelyn. You just wait. You’ll come into your own.’
‘All the plans we had. Films and music and all kinds of travel and projects.’
‘You’ll do all those things yet. Haven’t you your whole life ahead of you. There’s no fear of you not getting to do all the things you want to do.’
She raises herself upright and scrabbles the dark hair away from her face with her thin fingers. ‘Do you know what, Katie?’
‘What?’
‘I’m going to start the production company with or without Peadar. I don’t need him. I thought I did but I don’t. It was always myself who had the vision.’
‘Good girl yourself, Evelyn. That’s the spirit.’ She’s difficult, and conceited, but she’s pure magic. It delights me to delight her. I’d say we’re great friends because we’ve no sisters between us. I’ve always thought that girls with sisters don’t need friends in the same way that girls without sisters do.
‘Hold on a minute. Why don’t you come to London?’ She’s finally said it. She’s finally come out with it. ‘I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before. Sure, what else would you have for doing.’ Halle-fucking-lujah. I’m euphoric. My whole brain is buzzing. Myself and Evelyn over in London, meeting everyone worth meeting, making films and art and a name for ourselves.
‘Do you know, I wouldn’t mind going to London with you. I wouldn’t mind it a bit. I’d say it’d go great for us.’ Everything has aligned in a particular way to have brought this about. I could leap into the air and float way up into space.
You Have to Make Your Own Fun Around Here Page 19