by Alex Mae
Then someone was shaking her, a sensation as abrupt and shocking as being drenched with ice. ‘Raegan?’
It was still so dark.
‘Can you hear us, love? Can you open your eyes?’
This was not as easy as it sounded because her eyelids seemed to be made of lead. No wonder it had been dark. The faces staring down at her came into sharp focus. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, Raegan!’ exclaimed Bridey, who was sitting on the bed beside her. ‘You fainted! How are you feeling? Con –‘ she broke off briskly to speak to her husband, looming over her shoulder, ‘Go and get her a glass of water, would you?’
‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ Raegan protested, trying to sit up. Bridey held her firmly.
‘You fainted, Raegan. I sent Con up to see if you wanted a snack before you went out – I made cheese scones,’ Bridey added absently as she pressed a hand against Raegan’s forehead, peering anxiously into her eyes. ‘Oh, thank goodness he was here to catch you. You could’ve been hurt!’
‘I think – I think I fell asleep...’ Raegan’s voice trailed off as she realised how dumb that sounded. Then she was hit by a wave of exhaustion. Flopping tiredly against the pillows, it suddenly didn’t seem so stupid after all.Bridey took her hand. ‘You look all in,’ she said gently.
Con, re-entering the room, was not so tactful. ‘All in? She looks a fright. Girl, you need to take better care of yourself.’
Raegan ignored the water he held out, though his words hit her as sharply as if he’d thrown it in her face. What was his problem? Why couldn’t he act like a normal grandfather, for once, and pretend he cared? Fat chance. He didn’t seem worried at all. In fact, he seemed disappointed – like it was her fault, like she chose to be some wimp who went about fainting all over the place.
She realised he was still talking.
‘A banana in the morning isn’t enough, lass. You feather-headed girls pick at your food as if you were birds! You want to be eating a fry; take a leaf out of Bridey’s book. She eats like a horse and is as bonny a woman as I ever saw.’
‘Well, excuse me for not being able to shove a whole pig in my face each morning,’ Raegan, now sitting bolt upright and completely awake, snapped. ‘I’ll do my best to stay standing in future. Sorry to bother you.’ The words had left her mouth before she realised what she was saying.
There was a silence. Raegan’s cheeks flamed but the pressure of Bridey’s hand gave her courage. She returned Con’s gaze.
To her surprise, one side of his mouth twisted in a grin. ‘You’re right. You’re only a wee thing, probably doesn’t take much to fill you up. Still, I’m sure it would set your grandmother’s mind at rest if you ate an oat cake or two with your fruit in the morning.’ At this, Bridey’s reproachful eyes turned back to Raegan and she smiled.
Slightly mollified, Raegan nodded. ‘Sure. And it’s no hardship, they’re nice.’
He bowed his head in response, briefly, before his eyes wandered over to the dresser. ‘This room. It suits you? Can get a bit chilly in the evenings.’
The change in conversation caught her off guard. She glanced from him to Bridey and back again. ‘Oh. Yes, thanks. It’s… great.’
‘Sleeping well?’
Was it her imagination, or was there something knowing in his voice? Her pulse jumped. How embarrassing it would be if it turned out that she had been disturbing Con and Bridey every night with her interrupted sleep… or, even worse, what if she had woken them up screaming during one of her nightmares? ‘Yeah,’ she replied, finally, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘Why?’
He held her gaze.
‘We’ll leave you to get some rest now, dear,’ Bridey interrupted softly. ‘It’s best after a scare like that.’
Raegan stared at her hands, knackered. Perhaps a hearty hogroast wouldn’t be so bad after all. She could do with a boost.
‘I’ll call your wee friend,’ her grandmother continued, pushing off from the bed heavily. ‘Let her know you won’t be coming.’
Raegan’s eyes were nearly closed before the words registered. ‘What?’
‘Well, after that – you’re hardly well enough to go out.’ Bridey’s tone was soothing but Raegan did not miss the tense look she shared with Con.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Love-‘
‘I’m fine.’
The tinny echo of the phone ringing in the downstairs hallway interrupted the tense silence.
‘Oh, who could that be?’ Bridey looked torn for a fraction of a second but her manners were too good to leave the phone ringing. She couldn’t help casting one last, anxious look in Raegan’s direction when she reached the doorway. ‘Just take things steady then, won’t you? It’s your birthday tomorrow, pet, you’ll not want anything to ruin that. Stay in the warm at Marie’s house and let the Vallences take good care of you tonight.’
Con waited until the door shut before turning to Raegan accusingly. ‘Except you’re not going to the Vallences’ house, are you?’
She wished – not for the first time – that she wasn’t such a bad liar. ‘I don’t know what you mean. The plan is to watch films and get a pizza. No big deal.’
‘Hum. And you usually get all dolled up just to stay in, do you?’ His hand drifted over the Max Factor and Maybelline bottles on her dressing table with the same sort of baffled disconnection Raegan felt when faced with heavy-duty farm equipment.
‘You need to put on ‘Crimson Devil’’ he squinted at the writing on the side of the lipstick, ‘to eat pizza?’
The lipstick looked absurd in his massive paw. The longer she stared at it, a glittery and painfully superficial contrast to the cracked, rough skin of the fingers in which it was clenched, the more it – and he- seemed to be mocking her and her earlier, agonising bout of nerves.
This night out was the first thing she had looked forward to in months. How dare he ruin it? Marching over to the dressing table, she only just managed not to rip the lipstick from his hand. ‘Don’t touch my stuff.’
‘I was only-‘
‘Give it back!’
He dropped the lipstick into her palm wordlessly.
‘Now please get out.’ Her voice was trembling as she stepped back from him. ‘I need to get ready.’
She didn’t wait for his reaction before sitting back down at her dressing table. Primer and foundation met her cheeks with ragged slaps. She did not meet her eyes in the mirror.
His parting shot, heavy with disappointment, was so soft that she nearly missed it.
‘We’re trying to love you, Raegan. If only you wouldn’t make it so difficult.’
***
There was a spot down by the docks of St Jude’s port which afforded the most beautiful views at sunset; the burnt umber of the sky lending the stormy grey waters warmth, uniting the white shingled houses near the pier with the panorama, and carelessly painting a path of light to the small island on the horizon. On this particular evening, the dock was deserted except for two males, who eschewed the small bench positioned proudly for spectators to enjoy the view, and stood, quite motionless, regarding the beyond. They lounged with a cultivated, casual elegance, quite separate from one another though they stood relatively close; indeed, an observer may not have realised that they were holding a conversation, for not even the merest sideways glance passed between them.
‘The skies are quiet,’ the taller of the two commented.
‘Certainly.’ The temperature was falling sharply as the sun dropped into the sea, but the attractive glint of his companion’s blonde hair did not fade. ‘It is cool for this time of year, I think. Animals nest to protect their families from the inclement weather.’
‘And yet the island is still busy.’ A note of amusement.
‘Bird-watchers,’ the second made a snort of disgust. ‘All the same! They believe themselves in love with nature and yet are unable to read the signs.’
Their conversation was halted by the clatter of high heels as a young, pretty girl c
lad in a tight dress and towering high heels drew closer on her walk along the pier. The beads around the slender neck were paired with her lipstick and nails, which flashed like scarlet butterflies as she ran them through her hair. Interest flared as she passed, registered by all parties with curling corners of mouths and slightly raised eyebrows.
Tossing her head flirtatiously, the girl slowed down but did not stop, instead turning left toward the town centre. The men continued to watch her silently as she swung her slim hips. The dance was over, at least for now.
Chapter Three: Meetings by Moonlight
In the nick of time, Raegan found herself arriving at the quay to catch the last boat to the mainland; which was just as well, as the thought of spending another minute under the same roof as Con made her want to scream. With relief she noted that the further away from the island she got, the less she cared. The anxious, angry knots in her stomach transformed into butterflies, dizzily weaving their way around. It had been so long. She was excited.
She was also pants-twangingly nervous.
Wasn’t she good at this stuff, once? At school she had been too into books to fit in with the cool crowd, but she, Annie and Bex had been invited to most of the parties. It was fun. Easy. Things got even easier when one of the best-looking boys in her year noticed her – finally. She’d been daydreaming about him for months; every free centimetre of her English book was covered with the doodle ‘Raegan 4 James’ repeated over and over in different colours. Everyone fancied James. He wasn’t just hot, he was the leader of the pack; the Robert Pattinson of Woodstead High - though Marie would definitely have found him a pale imitation, Raegan thought with a grin. Crowds parted and girls’ eyelashes were batted frantically as he walked through the canteen.
Had she loved him? Or did she just like being popular? Looking back was like looking through a blurry lens. She could remember more bad stuff than good. Even now when she thought of how it ended she almost flinched; not because she still cared, but because she could remember just how much it hurt. If she hadn’t caught him with another girl, if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she probably wouldn’t have believed it. In a way, then, it was a blessing; though at the time it was as if her insides were breaking into a thousand, agonising pieces.
But then her mother had died, and everything Raegan had ever thought she felt was washed away.
The tartness of the grief which had winded her - the almost acid constancy of being on the verge of tears, forever teetering, the lump in the throat, the stinging of the eyes, the sensuality of sorrow which contrasted so bitterly with the echoing, numb emptiness within – had faded, slightly. It was now more a dull ache, a leaden, relentless sense of ‘missing’; something she longed for which she could never find again, a part of her which was now ragged, gaping, absent. It ate into everything – including what she felt or thought she felt for James – until there was nothing left. No room for anything else.
Her other life felt so far away now; weird, when it had only been a few months, but then not so much when she remembered how it changed. For most of her so-called friends it had been quick. Her situation was nothing new. People got bored of dealing with it. Annie and Bex had hung on the longest but after a while they went silent, too. When she left London for Ramsey there were a few promises to keep in touch but no-one came to say goodbye.
In the end there hadn’t been much to leave behind. But it was all she had. And how did you cope when you were leaving everything and nothing at the same time?
And what about when that everything and nothing included you?
And that’s what frightened her most. It was the thought that it wasn’t London or James or Annie or Bex or even her mother that she had been trying sever all ties with. It was herself. Her daydreams. Her hopes. Her childhood.
Being a child meant people could hurt you. A child was too… reliant. Ignorant. She didn’t want to be one anymore.
But now, as the cold winds whistled across the deck and she hugged herself to keep warm, something shifted. For the first time, the old Raegan didn’t seem pathetic, or naïve, or stupid. She just seemed young. Young and fearless.
That Raegan wouldn’t be sitting on this boat worrying about the night ahead and if she could make it through without messing up. That Raegan would have restless energy fizzing through her veins, eager to get going, get started, just go go go. That Raegan had always been moving forward; she wasn’t stuck in her sadness, like this Raegan.
Raegan didn’t know how to get back to how she used to be, if she even could - but tonight seemed like the perfect start. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to do something just for fun. Oh, she was sick of reminding herself that she was fifteen, not fifty! Tonight she would live in the moment, and for the moment, and take things as they came.
***
St Jude’s looked different without the sun’s warmth; as Raegan clipclopped up Crown Street, trying not to get her heels stuck in the cobbles, she was faintly disappointed not to be greeted by the pretty pastel shop fronts. Instead, shuttered and without illumination, their colours bled into a uniformity of darkness. Apart from the occasional caw of a lone bird, the deafening quietness was pierced only by a distant, continuous thud of music. The new diner Marie had spoken of was announcing its presence, calling the youth of St Jude’s to arms: Raegan imagined the hypnotic, pulsing thumpa thumpa drawing men and women through the peaceful, sleepy streets like a mechanised Pied Piper.
The thumping bassline proved to be the audio equivalent of a homing beacon, and soon Raegan found herself outside the diner. MOJO’s, it proclaimed in bold, block capitals, silver against the sleek red of its exterior. The proprietors of the diner were taking strict precautions against blending in by covering every free inch of the frontal with bright lights. The effect was at once gloriously vulgar and oddly appealing. And then, sashaying down the street towards Raegan, was the perfect epitome of both. Marie looked amazing in a tight black dress and red high heeled shoes, her highlighted hair falling in carefully sculpted waves down her back, with meticulously co-ordinated red fingernails, toenails, and clutch handbag, and several ropes of beads looped around her neck. It was a little over the top, but so what?
The WAGish facade was broken almost immediately, however, when Marie spotted Raegan. With a huge grin, her friend stuck her leg out and exclaimed loudly, ‘These shoes only cost me 20 quid, got ‘em off Ebay! Pretty cool, huh?’
Her ensuing giggle was so full of delight that Raegan couldn’t help joining in. ‘Bargain!’ she enthused, as Marie arrived beside her.
‘You look lush,’ Marie clapped her hands in congratulation, circling Raegan like a shark as she assessed her outfit. Raegan hoped she would pass the test. Her wardrobe choices had been fairly limited but she’d finally settled on a pair of opaque black leggings, teamed with a fitted green dress. Jazzed up with some chunky silver jewellery and a beaded cuff around her wrist, she didn’t think it looked too bad. Naturally curvy, the weight had fallen off her recently, but thankfully Bridey’s delicious, stodgy cooking had begun to creep some flesh back into the hollows of her cheeks. This dress clung to her in all the right places; nipping in at her slimmer waist and then flaring out over the still-curvy hips.
Now Marie was having a fit over her hair. ‘So long! It’s gorgeous, babe. Is it all yours?’
‘Yes,’ Raegan remarked in surprise. ‘Isn’t yours?’
Marie threw her head back and laughed. ‘Of course not! Extensions.’ She reached out to finger one of Raegan’s long, red strands. ‘I’m so jealous!’
Raegan thought Marie just was being polite. Her hair was raggedy at best and she hadn’t even had a chance to style it - all the angst earlier in the evening had drastically cut into her getting-ready time. But Marie could see what her new friend couldn’t: Raegan could pull it off. Her features were not conventionally perfect - there was a small gap between her front teeth, her nose was slightly too long, her eyes narrow, and when she grinned her dimples deepened int
o lengthy laughter lines - but these irregularities, like the golden dusting of freckles on her nose, only enhanced her peculiar beauty. Whether she wore make up or not, an outsider could not fail to notice the way that the deep, bracken red hair, delicately freckled skin and white teeth complemented the slanting, thickly lashed blue-green eyes perfectly, or how her face lit up when she smiled.
These natural charms, together with Marie’s flirtatiousness, proved an instantly successful combination: they hadn’t even got inside yet but were already attracting a great deal of attention. Most admiring of all were the doormen, who soon ushered the pair to the top of the lengthy queue. A good start.
Scurrying in thankfully and pulling her dress down, Raegan found herself in a warm, rippling swarm of people, Marie at her side. She wrinkled her nose as a mixture of aftershave and frying bacon wafted their way and 1950s music filled her ears; but she was given no time to dwell on this. Straight away her companion grabbed her hand and began manoeuvring them forcefully through the throng, causing her to stumble momentarily and ricochet into an unfamiliar, muscular chest. Flushing, Raegan shouted an apology over her shoulder as Marie propelled her toward her quarry: a rare lone table which had just been vacated. Leaping onto one of the stools before anyone could claim it, Marie turned to Raegan with satisfaction.
‘Wicked! Best table in this place.’ Hopping off nimbly, she gave Raegan’s hand a quick squeeze. ‘So, fancy a drink? They do good cocktails here but strong - I was off my face last time. Dad grounded me for a month!’
Raegan could just imagine what Con and Bridey would say if she came back drunk. It was not a happy thought. Looking over at the bar for inspiration, she soon spotted a waiter wearing a paper hat, pouring something pink, frothy, and calorific into a tall glass.
It was a no-brainer. ‘Ooh, strawberry milkshake, please.’ Opening her purse, she pulled out a crisp ten pound note.
Marie shook her head. ‘It’s on me, birthday girl.’