Paradise Postponed

by Dominique Kyle

  Then in the late afternoon she’d served us all up a roast chicken with all the trimmings, which was frankly pure heaven, and I managed to muster up the grace to actually say something complimentary about it. As she passed Jamie she sniffed loudly and then said teasingly, “Now, now, naughty! I can smell some combustible herbage!”

  Jamie and I stared blankly at her.

  “You know, the evil weed,” she clarified with a jolly wink.

  Jamie went bright red. I internally applauded her. Dad didn’t seem to notice. Tuning her out already was he?

  Now, in the late afternoon post-meal lull, I heard her calling up the stairs to me, “Your handsome young man is here, Eve!”

  I sat up on my bed. She must mean Quinn. “Send him up!” I yelled.

  “Lucky boy,” she cooed to him. “She wants you to hotfoot it up to her boudoir!”

  A minute later, Quinn was at the door.

  “You knew,” he said accusingly.

  I stepped back from the door and let him in. “Siân told me. I was asked not to say anything to you.”

  I sat down on the bed and he hovered awkwardly around, filling up the space. I patted the bed and he sat down beside me. He leant forward, shoulders slumped and his hands loose between his knees.

  “I’m sorry Quinn,” I said. Didn’t know what else to say really, and that seemed the safest.

  He threw himself back against the wall and groaned. His green eyes were blinking hard like he was trying not to cry. I took his hand. He didn’t respond.

  “I’m the eldest, so I’ll be expected to step up,” he said glumly.

  “No you won’t,” I said. “You’ve still got your dad. It’ll be far worse for Siân. She’ll be expected to support your mother plus look after the boys.” And the new baby, I thought, if Kathleen dies. But I didn’t say it aloud.

  “Yeah, s’pose so,” he said miserably.

  Without a by-your-leave, he lay down on his side with his head on my pillow. “Ug. Life’s shit.”

  “What’s shit about life apart from what’s going on with your mother?” I asked. Normally he was quite the optimist. Quite the annoyingly cheerful chappie.

  “I’m useless aren’t I? I’m completely crap!”

  “Well I can’t break a life time habit to disagree with you on that score,” I said drily.

  His green eyes flickered momentarily, quite like his old self. He sat up.

  “I don’t know how to react,” he confessed. “I just said ‘oh’ when Mum told me. Now I feel bad about it. Siân hasn’t stopped blubbing since I got home…”

  “Just go home and cuddle Dubetskoi,” I suggested. Or Daisy. But I didn’t say that. “And let Siân do all the crying for both of you.” He could cry when it hit him. It wasn’t real to him yet. And if Kathleen got better, it might never have to hit him. “Are we allowed to tell anyone yet?”

  He nodded.

  “Ok, I’ll tell Dad tonight, and you can tell Con that Dad knows so he can come round if he ever needs to...”

  He nodded again.

  “Off you go now,” I said firmly. “And go and show all your family your photos from Germany. They could do with a bit of light relief right now, and everyone can just pretend it isn’t happening for an hour.”

  He got up obediently and went to the door. “Yeah, good idea, McGinty.” He glanced back at me momentarily. “Thanks.”

  After he left I curled up on my own bed, and made a poor job of blinking back my own unexpectedly trickling tears.

  At four thirty on Monday, Trev sauntered up to me again.

  “Come on Ginty, it’s Bowker’s last day tomorrow. Let’s go out and celebrate getting rid of the old sod.”

  I wasn’t going round to Jo’s tonight as they were going to pick up Pete from the hospital, SHE would be in residence back home, and I was feeling pretty stressed out what with cannabis farms and people dying next door and I thought I should probably lighten up and have a night off for once. Confident now that I was immune to his charms, and wouldn’t give myself away with a bout of uneven breathing if he touched me, I put away the pen I was using to fill in the log book and said,

  “Ok then, why not?”

  “Shall I pick you up at yours at seven?” He suggested.

  Although he dressed like a biker, he actually drove a sporty red Chevrolet Camaro, and I didn’t think it would hurt Quinn to see what the competition was.

  “Ok,” I agreed. “Dress up or dress down?”

  He smiled winningly at me. “Dress up. I think we have enough of oily leather at work don’t we?”

  “Ok,” I said casually. Maybe I’d give the red dress another whirl. Make Quinn really sorry he’d done the dirty on me.

  “Meal first?” He suggested.

  “Fine,” I said. That would make a nice change. Quinn had never taken me anywhere more exotic than Macdonald’s. I’d definitely be judging Trev on where he took me.

  Each afternoon the men had been watching the daily pantomime, seemingly with increasing hilarity. Now Trev turned round to them and raised both thumbs and the three of them raised a comedy cheer. I rolled my eyes. They were such gossipmongers. Honestly!

  When I got home, I headed for the shower, only to find HER in there scrubbing the whole bathroom from top to bottom, humming happily to herself.

  “Won’t be a jiffy, petal,” she said cheerily.

  I retreated. My first thought was ‘what sort of person hums while doing cleaning like they’re really enjoying it?’ My second thought was ‘what sort of person voluntarily cleans a stranger’s bathroom unless they are beginning to take ownership of it?’ My first emotion was one of guilt and shame that she felt the need to scrub it, because I didn’t clean it enough myself. My second emotion was one of relief that I no longer needed to feel responsible for cleaning it myself. My third emotion was fury that she was already acting like she owned the place!

  At seven o’clock I heard the horn of a car beep loudly in the street. I looked out to see the red Camaro and galloped down the stairs.

  SHE called out to Dad who was in the kitchen, “Your daughter’s out on the razzle again!”

  The horn beeped loudly again for which I was exceptionally pleased. It would almost guarantee that either Quinn would look out in case it was for him, or Siân or Liam would have a nosy and report back to him.

  I pattered down the path in my high heels and inserted myself elegantly into the passenger seat.

  He smiled a welcome sideways at me. “I see you’ve dressed to match the car.”

  “3.6-litre V-6, 323 horsepower and 278 lb-ft of torque.” I murmured. “Standard six-speed manual transmission, dual overhead cam engine, direct injection and Variable Valve Timing.”

  His eyebrows raised queryingly. “I meant in red!”

  “I’m just rehearsing for a lad I know who is obsessed with engines.” I explained. Bobby would be bound to want to know what motors I’d had anything to do with this week, and he’d be very impressed that I’d actually taken a ride in this one. I could hear him in my head right now – Oooo n-i-i-i-ce, E-e-e-ve – with the excited wiggle of the fingers together.

  “Should I be worrying about the competition?” He asked coolly, glancing in the mirror and guiding us smoothly out.

  I laughed and shook my head.

  He took me to a really swanky restaurant where they treated us royally. It was great. He persuaded me to have a glass of white wine and he had a half of some local craft beer himself. I realised that I hadn’t been eating properly for ages and decided to go for a slap-up steak.

  We discussed work, lifted our glasses to getting rid of Bowker, and he quizzed me as to why I volunteered at Lyndale on Fridays. I didn’t tell him the real reason why I’d started, but was able to truthfully say that I loved it because it was so anarchic, because no-one cared a jot about how anyone looked or behaved and because it was a laugh a minute.

  He was utterly charming throughout. We talked a bit about our respective families. He only had one
older brother, no sisters. He asked me about the F2s and seemed genuinely interested, asking intelligent questions. People on other tables were glancing at us because we ended up laughing so hard at some of the stories he was telling.

  When it came to paying, he got out his card, but I shook my head. I’d learnt a few lessons since that outing with that other Luke when I was only just turned sixteen. If Trev didn’t pay for me, I wouldn’t owe him anything.

  “We’re not in a relationship, Trev. I’ll pay my own way.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, in slightly annoyed tones. I noticed he left a big tip in cash on the table instead, as though he needed to show he was the man by some other means.

  He took me onto a bar. A sort of late night licence, small dance floor type. Again, he chose a half of beer, explaining at my querying look, “I’m pacing myself. I’m driving remember?”

  But when I took a sip of the drink he’d bought me, I pulled a face and said ironically, “Just how many shots did you get them to put in this?”

  He just laughed and raised his glass to me. When we’d finished the drinks, he insisted we went out for a bit of a dance – a slow one of course. I didn’t want to give him any encouragement, but on the other hand I didn’t want to appear too much of a prim party pooper. So I stayed with him for a couple, allowed him to press up against me sensuously but not handle me. Then we went back to our corner table. He insisted on buying me another drink.

  “One shot only,” I said firmly. What came back had at least two in it. He had another half – lager this time. Now I was back in a seat and we were back to just chatting, I was feeling more comfortable again. I sipped the drink slowly but not with any real concern. One thing I’ve inherited from my Dad is an ability to take my drink. My Dad is famous for being the last man standing, and many a time in the old days I’d match Quinn drink for drink and wait till Quinn was nearly insensible in the knowledge that I’d still be fine, and then do something awful to him. He never seemed to learn, each time fondly imagining that this time he’d win. That was something he’d inherited from his own father. The nights I’d seen my Dad having to hold Con up on the way back from the pub and deliver him back to Kathleen were frequent. Dad would come in and roll his eyes at me. “Lightweight! He never learns…”

  I began to start glancing at my watch though. “It’s only Monday night, Trev. Work tomorrow. Time to go home.”

  “Come back to mine for a bit first,” Trev suggested with an inviting smile.

  “We’ve got to carry on working together, Trev,” I said firmly. “So that’s not such a good idea.”

  He didn’t seem to like the fact that I was tackling the issue openly and not going along with any pretence that it was ‘just for a coffee’ or whatever. Or maybe he just didn’t like the fact that I was turning him down.

  “Another drink and stay here a bit longer instead then?” He pushed.

  He clearly wasn’t giving up. He thought that another couple of vodkas later and I might succumb to his charms. I got out my phone and started spinning through the address book.

  “It’s ok Trev, if you want to stay. I don’t mind getting a taxi home.” I started reading out a few names as though I was trying to decide which one to call. ABC, Ace, Blue Star, Crescent Cars…

  A flash of annoyance passed across his face. “No Eve, of course I’ll take you home. Just one more for the road huh?”

  I didn’t want to get into an argument and make it worse at work tomorrow, so I agreed with a shrug and let him get me one more. It seemed an age before he came back. I glanced at my watch again, impatient to get home. I didn’t want to get really overtired again. I’d just knock this one back, however many shots he’d cunningly added and insist it was time to leave. I wished now that I’d met him somewhere on my bike, so I had the means to go whenever I wanted without it coming across as offensive.

  The drink when I took a large swig of it, tasted a bit odd.

  “What’s this?” I queried, holding the glass up to him. “It tastes weird.”

  “Same as before,” he dismissed. Then added, “’Cept I did ask him to jazz it up a bit – what’s he put in it?”

  “Dunno.” I pulled a face. “Whatever it is, I’m not a fan.”

  He smiled ruefully at me. “Sorry, I just thought you’d like a bit of a change. Give it a go in case it grows on you.”

  He reached across and put his hand over mine. His fingertips felt rough from all our garage work. I meant to pull mine away, but I was coming over all heavy and tired and somehow couldn’t be bothered.

  “I really need to go now,” I said, smothering a yawn.

  “Ok then, knock that back and we’ll get going.” He sounded matter of fact at last, instead of reluctant and persuasive. So he was clearly accepting now that the night was over.

  I took a few large gulps of the drink, then put it firmly back on the table. “Nope, I really can’t manage it. It’s seriously revolting.” It left me with a bitter taste at the back of the throat.

  “Ok, let’s go then,” he agreed, leaving half of his own as well.

  As I stood up and walked with him across the low lit room it seemed like the noise of the music was echoing oddly in my ears and by the time we got out into the street I felt like I couldn’t remember how to walk in these high heels any more. I clutched his arm. He laughed and put an arm around my waist.

  “Bit tipsy are we?”

  By the time we got to the car, my legs seemed to be tangling up, and when he opened the passenger door for me I couldn’t remember which leg to put in first. He helped me in. As he got in the driver’s seat he looked sideways at me.

  “Your dad’s not going to be impressed if I have to carry you back up the path! Maybe you should stay over at mine so he doesn’t see you like this.”

  I shook my head, still trying to focus on the seatbelt fastening. I kept missing. Trev took it out of my hand and inserted it into the mechanism with a soft clunk.

  “Dad’s cool. Take me home. He won’t care.” I was finding it hard to get my words out, and wasn’t sure how they were sounding.

  “A strong coffee first, methinks.” Trev’s tone was teasing. But his voice sounded echoey and distant. I tried to firmly decline but when he drove off with showy acceleration I still had no idea where he was taking me.

  When I woke up I had no idea where I was and no memory of why I was there. I lay sprawled to one side of double bed in small flat that I had no recollection of ever having been in before. My head pounded, I felt really nauseous, my eyelids felt like sandpaper, my mouth tasted bitter and disgusting, and I really needed to pee. I kept trying to get up, but I kept finding my eyelids closing and I fell asleep again. Finally I opened my eyes and kept them open and felt more properly present at last. I groaned and rolled over and suddenly realised that under the sheet that was twisted around me, I was completely naked. My whole body tensed up and my fists balled so tight my fingernails bit into my palms. What the hell was I doing here? I clutched the sheet around me and sat up, looking aggressively around me, prepared to have to face someone. But there was no-one in the room. And given that it was just an open plan bedsit with the kitchen area in the corner and the door to the bathroom open, it was clear that this meant there was no-one in the flat at all. I sat frozen on the edge of the bed. What time was it? The digital clock by the bed showed 11.30 am. Eventually it sank in. Shit, that meant I was already three hours late for work!

  I stood up gingerly and still wrapped in the sheet, made my way to the bathroom. One of everything. Gillette shaver on the shelf. Male toiletries and shower gel round the bath, lid up on the toilet. Single male.

  I put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. The pee when it came out burned like fire. I was so sore. And when I looked down there was some pink in the pan, and a long dribble of dried on blood down my inner thigh. I felt sick. I held out my wrists in front of me. There were purple bruises on the insides of one of them, and some more bruises up the other arm. I felt like I wan
ted to die. How could I go back into work now?

  When I walked back into the main room to look for my clothes, I found them strewn across the floor, my lacy knickers twisted up in one of my stilettos like I’d stepped out of them and my shoes in the same movement. I snatched them up and put them back on. My dress was torn where it buttoned up at the side. I pulled it on anyway. I hadn’t been wearing a bra as the dress was so close fitting, but since I’d bought this dress specifically to look modest at the wedding, I knew I hadn’t been flashing any encouraging cleavage or thigh.

  I glanced at the clock again to check the time – midday now. And it was then I saw the note. Scrawled on the back of an envelope was Thought I’d leave you to get your beauty sleep. See you at work. Luke

  I felt sick again. Then I felt enraged. Then a huge knot squeezed tight in my stomach. I was going to have to ring Entwistle to explain why I wasn’t in work today, and then I was going to have to go in tomorrow and face Trevelyn.

  But first I had to get home. I had no idea where I was, but I was going to have to get a taxi, and I didn’t even have a coat on me as it was so mild last night. So I would have to get into a taxi at lunch time, clearly dressed in last night’s clothes and teeter up the path to my house right in front of Kathleen, and maybe have to walk past HER or some workmen she might have got in to finish the decorating. I’d rather curl up and die!

  I went to his wardrobe and yanked open the door and slammed my way through the hangers. There was a really old leather jacket in there so I plucked it out. I might look like a biker tart in it with red dress and stilettos, but at least I wouldn’t look like a woman coming home after a night out. When I looked in the mirror I saw that I looked like I had two black eyes what with the smearing of the mascara and the dark rims under my eyes from the ill effects of the night before. It was hard to get rid of the make up without proper remover, but I scrubbed at it with the corner of a towel, soap and hot water until my eyes were now red rimmed, but no longer like a panda’s. Then I walked out into the street, slamming the door behind me and walked until I found a road with a street name plate on it, and an identifiable corner Spa and rang for a taxi to pick me up there.