On days like this, when all that mattered was the sun that shone and the birds that swooped, it was difficult to remember why she worried about any of it: the research, the books, the piles of scrawled notes. The thing she liked about history was the idea of leaving a mark. Sometimes it seemed like you could go through your whole life and never really do that. But recently it had started to feel like academia was an avoidance of life and living and the real world, some type of Narnia of parchment and book.
They found a free bench and sat down and looked out to sea. Kavanagh fished a hip flask from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a swig before offering it to Stevie.
‘Sure, for the day that’s in it.’
‘Ah, I dunno. I’ve a load of work to do later,’ she said.
‘It would be unpatriotic not to.’
She smiled and accepted the flask, shuddering involuntarily as the whiskey hit the back of her throat.
‘The sea is beautiful today.’ She passed the flask back to him.
‘You should see the sea in Phuket.’
‘Yeah, yeah, Thailand this, Thailand that. Change the record, Kav,’ she teased.
‘I’d love for you to see it is all,’ he said. ‘The two of us there together.’
‘You know I can’t.’
‘Because of your research? Stevie, you know they have temples and shit over there. Really fucking old ones. You’d be right at home.’
Stevie laughed. ‘Wow, old temples and shit? You’re really selling it to me, Kav.’
‘I mean it though,’ he said. ‘Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.’
They bought ice-creams and sat looking out to sea. She tried to push from her mind the thought of all of the work she had to do in preparation for her trip the following day. Kavanagh was still talking about Thailand, but she couldn’t take in what he was saying. She looked down at her ice-cream, imagining the fat molecules suspended in frozen liquid. The thought of having to eat it made her feel sick. She stood up and dumped it into the bin.
‘I think it was off,’ she said as Kavanagh looked at her in surprise.
‘Really?’ he said. ‘Mine tastes fine.’ It was melting fast, dribbling over the cone.
‘I’m sorry. I really have to get back. I’ve so much to do,’ she said. ‘You can stay here if you like.’
‘No, don’t be silly. I’ll walk back with you. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m fine’
Chapter 33
Pajo hadn’t intended on staying at the party, but after he made the delivery he found himself getting into the spirit of things. He’d received the good news from Walshy and he felt like celebrating. Jacqui had shown up and she was wittering on about a tattoo she’d got.
‘It’s on my ankle.’ She smiled at Pajo. ‘Do you want to see it?’
‘Hmm?’
‘My tattoo.’
‘Go on, show us it then.’
‘I don’t know if you’ll like it.’ She was playing coy all of a sudden, hiding behind her scraggly mop of yellow hair.
‘Don’t show me then.’ Pajo looked away and scanned the room.
‘Okay.’ She rolled up her jeans and stuck out her leg. ‘Here it is.’
He peered at the yellow flower that spread across her ankle, its petals reaching out almost three-dimensionally like some kind of optical illusion.
He grimaced. ‘I fucking hate sunflowers.’
‘What?!’ she laughed. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘I am.’
It was true. He couldn’t stand those flowers. Seeing them brought him back to his childhood when his mother would grow them in the back garden. He could see them when he looked out of his bedroom window. All the hours she spent fretting over them, and for what? They were fickle, only blooming when it was hottest, completely unsuitable for an Irish climate. What were they even doing here? They turned their giant stupid faces to the sun, begging it to notice them, reaching up higher and higher on their obscene stalks, which were taller than he was. You never saw that part of the flower in pictures or in the neat bunches at the florist’s – those thick, green monstrosities bursting through soil, lifting those idiotic black-seeded heads and piss-yellow petals further and further upwards towards the sun. When the weather got colder, as it invariably did, they withered and drooped, their un-petalled heads shrivelling up like dead spiders. They repulsed him.
‘How can you not like sunflowers?’ Jacqui was looking at him in disbelief. ‘Everyone likes sunflowers.’
The yellow of the flower on her skin was the same artificial yellow as her hair.
‘Well, I’m not everyone.’
She was looking up at him with her don’t-hurt-me eyes, the ugly flower still on display.
‘I think it’s lovely, Jacqui,’ said Hulk.
Pajo had never been a fan of tattoos. Girls with their fairies and their stars and their flowers, treating their bodies like colouring books. He couldn’t imagine liking anything enough to want it inked onto his flesh forever. Some lads saw them as a badge of honour, showing off tattoo sleeves on pumped-up biceps in tight T-shirts at the gym. It was the footballers’ fault, most likely. Now you had some gobshite from Rahoon thinking he’s Beckham because he has the same tats. Some lads in school used to give themselves DIY tattoos, scraping compasses across their arms at the back of class and filling the cuts with Indian ink. The tattoos rarely took though. They’d scab and the ink would shed along with the skin. A total waste of time.
Walshy nudged her with his elbow. ‘He’s not pulling any punches, hah, Jacqui? He was giving me awful abuse earlier too.’
Jacqui scowled at Walshy. Pajo could tell she didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t like the fact that he was trying to equate them as the same in Pajo’s estimation. Everything seemed very hilarious all of a sudden. He was so tickled by it that he let out a belly laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ said Hulk, worried he was somehow the cause of the laughter, as was frequently the case.
Pajo grinned. ‘Oh, just in a good mood is all. We have him. We have our man. Now we just have to be patient and bam!’ He smacked his palm with his fist. Walshy and Hulk laughed. Jacqui looked at them in confusion.
‘To catch a sneaky little mouse, Jacqui, a quiet little mouse that’s hiding away up to no good, what do you use?’
‘A trap?’
Pajo shook his head. You use a weasel.’ He grabbed Walshy around the neck and rubbed his hair with his knuckle. ‘Little Walshy Weasel gets his man.’
Walshy let out a high-pitched laugh.
‘You don’t mind me calling you a weasel, do you, Walshy?’
‘I’ll take it as a compliment.’
‘Good weasel. Good little weasel.’ Pajo got him in a headlock and started to run around the room with ‘Pajo…’ squeaked Walshy.
‘What is it?’ Pajo laughed. ‘What is it, Weasel?’.
‘Pajo, wait,’ said Hulk.
Pajo stopped dead in his tracks. ‘What?’
Hulk held out the plastic bag of MDMA. ‘Have some more of this.’
Pajo nodded and released Walshy from his grip. He slapped Hulk on the shoulder as Walshy recovered his breath. ‘We got him, we got the fucker!’
*
‘So, do you still hate my tattoo?’ Jacqui giggled.
‘Hmm?’ said Pajo, pulling the covers up to his chin.
‘You’re gonna change your mind about it. You’ll end up loving it, I bet.’ She wrapped her leg around his. He edged away closer to the wall until his face was almost touching the smooth coldness of the plaster. Had she told him about her tattoo? She might well have done. He couldn’t get a grip on his memory of the night before. It came back to him in flashes. There had been a party in Knocknacarra. He’d
gone there on business to make some deliveries, but found himself drawn into the spirit of things. He normally kept himself at a remove, even at parties. He liked to keep his wits about him, but last night he’d been in a jubilant mood. He was snorting coke and dabbing great wads of MDMA on his gums, reaching for the plastic bag again and again. He was grinning like a loon and dancing, dancing, dancing. Usually he never danced. And there was something else … Party Pajo. That’s what they had called him, the crowd of people that had gathered around him. They had chanted it as he danced and danced and picked Jacqui up and swung her around. He cringed at the memory. They weren’t scared of him. They had laughed and chanted Party Pajo, delirious like schoolchildren getting away with something.
Jacqui’s voice brought him back to the present. How had she ended up back here? He couldn’t even remember.
He turned to face her. ‘I’m gonna have a shower.’
‘Are you okay?’ Jacqui asked.
‘Yeah, yeah. Grand.’
She’d never seen him so distracted, but he obviously wanted her to stay. He hadn’t said anything about her leaving. She lay back in bed, luxuriating in being there. She thought of the previous night when he’d finally told her how he felt about her. I love you, Jacqui. She had known all along that he did. He was just one of those fellas that had trouble revealing their true feelings.
He had taken some photos last night on his phone, including one of the two of them together, his arm around her like a proper couple. She saw that he had left his phone beside the bed. He wouldn’t mind, she told herself, if she had a look. The photo was dark, an outline of two blurry black shapes, a halo of refracted light. She was disappointed, but she told herself that there would be other parties, other photos of the two of them together.
She went to put the phone back but something stopped her, some curiosity, some impulse. She glanced toward the door, heard the sound of the shower, then scrolled through the rest of his photos. A picture of a girl, then another, then…. Her skin turned cold. Confusion, disbelief, and then the gut-punch realisation of what she was seeing. Photo after photo. Girl after girl. On their knees. A succession of pale faces and bodies in badly lit rooms. Some of them looked so young, so vulnerable, so out of it. Nameless. She saw that they weren’t people to him, just things to be used. Something for him to manipulate and control because that’s what he did. He had no feelings for her. He had no feelings for anyone.
She placed the phone back on the locker. Her hand was shaking. Reaching for her clothes, she got dressed as quickly as she could. She let herself out of his apartment. She didn’t look back.
Chapter 34
Stevie wasn’t expecting anyone, so it took her a few minutes to realise that the sound she could hear was someone knocking on her front door. She opened it to see Kavanagh standing there holding a pizza box, his hair plastered to his head.
‘Surprise! I thought I’d surprise you …’.
‘Oh. Oh, great.’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘Well, yes, this is definitely surprising. I thought we’d arranged to meet tomorrow?’
‘Shit. I should have called first, shouldn’t I? You probably hate surprises. You do, don’t you? I can see it in your face. See, I love surprises but …’. He glanced into the sitting room where Stevie’s notes were spread out on the table. ‘Ah, you’re in the middle of something. I don’t want to disturb you.’
‘No, it’s fine. I could use a break.’
‘Well, I brought you the holy trinity of Friday amazingness: pizza, wine and a little something-something for afters.’
‘Well, now I’m intrigued. What’s the little something-something?’
‘A spliff.’
‘Ah. I thought you meant …’.
‘You thought I meant what? Oh, well that too.’ He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘It could be the holy … what’s like a trinity but made of four things?’
‘A square?’
‘The holy square of Friday awesomeness. No, that doesn’t sound right. Triptych?’
Stevie shook her head. ‘No, a triptych is still three.’
‘Ah, I’ll think of it again,’ he waved his hand. ‘Seriously though, if this is a bad time, I can just leave this stuff here and let you get back to it.’ He backed away and made an elaborate bowing gesture.
Stevie laughed. ‘Come on in,’ she grabbed him by the arm and kissed him. ‘So, is it raining or are you trying out a new hairstyle?’
He placed the pizza down on the counter top and ran his fingers through his hair, which was slicked back, flattened by rainwater. ‘Both,’ he said. ‘I got the pizza from the new Italian place on Cross Street. It’s meant to be lovely. Dan said it tastes just like the pizza in Naples.’
‘Have you been to Naples?’
‘Me? No. But I’d say they make some pretty decent pizzas.’
They sat down and Stevie moved her notes out of the way.
Kavanagh put the pizza box in the middle of the table. ‘Look, I won’t stay long if you need to get back to work. Have you been working all evening?’
‘Nah, just a couple of hours.’
The truth was that she had been staring into space for an hour. Then, when she dropped the pencil she had been chewing on, she had noticed how dusty it was under the sofa. She decided she needed to clean it immediately. Once she had tackled that bit of dust, the entire apartment looked filthy so she had to clean it from top to bottom. Then she’d become lost in an internet rabbit hole. What had started innocently enough with her checking the location of a sheela-na-gig in Tipperary had somehow ended up with trying to find out whatever happened to the fat kid from The Goonies. Then she wondered what all of the rest of the cast were up to and had started looking them up too. But the knock on the door had been a distraction. She was just about to get back into her studying mode, really she was, so she could convince herself she would have got loads done if it wasn’t for Kavanagh’s unexpected visit.
The rain was falling heavily on the roof as Kavanagh opened the pizza box. ‘Help yourself.’
Stevie broke off a slice, the gooey cheese stretching as she lifted it. She took a small bite and placed it back down.
‘What do you think? Best pizza in Galway?’
‘It’s great,’ Stevie smiled.
‘Wow, it’s really coming down out there. Glad I’m not still out in that.’
Stevie went to take another bite of pizza, but out of nowhere she realised she couldn’t eat any more. She didn’t even want to hold the slice as she imagined the pores of her skin absorbing the calories from the oil. She tried to push the thought from her mind, but it remained there, insistent and urgent. She placed it down and turned to Kav. ‘Would you mind getting wine glasses?’
‘Sure.’ Kavanagh headed off towards the kitchen.
Stevie broke off most of her slice of pizza and hid it in a napkin.
Kavanagh sat down and poured her a glass of wine. ‘This is nice.’
Stevie wiped her hands. ‘Yeah, it’s times like this I wish I lived in a house with a log fire. Sitting in front of the storage heater doesn’t really have the same romance to it.’
‘Want another slice?’
‘No thanks, I’m stuffed.’
‘You don’t like the pizza? I’ll kick Dan up the hole for recommending the place.’
‘No, no. It’s great. It’s just I already ate so I’m still pretty full.’ She tensed, waiting for him to pick her up on it, but he just reached for another slice.
A light flooded the dimly lit room and they heard the loud noise of a rasping engine.
‘What is that?’ said Stevie.
They looked out the window but couldn’t see anything. Stevie switched off the sitting room light so that they could better peer into the darkness outside. Then they saw what w
as making the noise: a helicopter hovered over the river. It beamed a searchlight up and down the length of the Corrib.
‘Jesus,’ said Stevie. ‘Does that mean …’.
Kavanagh nodded. ‘Yeah, someone’s in the river. I passed it earlier and the water was crazy high.’
Stevie shuddered. ‘I can’t imagine how cold that water must be. And it’s so windy tonight. Do you think someone could have been swept in?’
Kavanagh thought this over. ‘It’s possible I suppose, but usually these things are deliberate.’
Stevie moved away from the window and sat back down on the sofa. She ran her hand over her arm and her skin felt goose-bumped. She could almost feel the intense coldness of the water surrounding her. Kavanagh sat beside her and put his arm around her. Stevie moved closer to his warmth. ‘Do you want to stay over?’
‘Sure, if you’re certain I’m not keeping you from your work.’
‘It can wait until tomorrow. I’m glad you’re here.’
‘I’m glad I’m here too.’
*
She is alone on a hill surrounded by shadows, frozen with terror. She can feel rancid breath on her neck. A crow flaps by, black wings inches from her face. Caw aw caw! She is trespassing, should not be here. A cold panic grips her. She needs to find the way out – looks for a door, a window, but everything is cloaked in black. You’re late, you’re late, says Dr Bodkin. Pamela is in the corner, blood dripping from her wrists. She looks at Stevie, a pale face with hollow eyes. Why won’t you help me? I thought you’d help me, Stevie. She tries to reach her. Pamela…. She tries to call out but she can’t make a sound. The baby photos from her mother’s fridge are scattered all over the ground. She is treading over them but they are gum on a sunny day, sticking to her shoes.
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