Frances
I won’t post it for a couple of days.
21 November 1999 (evening)
I’m wondering if I should write to Lesley, now that I’m in a letter-writing mood. Would it do any good? What would she think, hearing from me after all these years? Would she really want to know what has happened to me over the past few months? Would she care? She would have, once upon a time. She’d have loved the drama of it. She’d have been right there in that courtroom. In the front row.
But people change, move on; well, most people that is. Obviously she has. I wonder what her life is like – if she’s happy, if she ever thinks about me, and if she does, is she still angry?
Falling out with Lesley
I’m in an awful state. I can’t believe what I’ve done. The sex was supposed to make me feel better, but it hasn’t. It was rushed, rough and vulgar. He never looked at me; he just squeezed me, while I looked out over his shoulder at the rain and cried. He didn’t even notice. I don’t ever want to see him again.
I’ve tons of homework, but I can’t do a stroke, not until I’ve rung Lesley. She’ll be waiting for my call. First, I need to calm down. I feel so emotional. I’m gutted over the way she dumped me in Enniskillen and then lied to me about it. Is that all she thinks of me – her best friend? I’m so angry with her, and Johnny, and myself, for that matter, because I’ve decided not to confront her about her deception. Instead, I’m going to forgive her: I love her too much not to. It’s better to forget what I’ve heard and to carry on as usual than to risk falling out with her. Besides, I’ve already had my revenge, horrible as it was.
Several times I go down to the hall and pick up the receiver, but as soon as I start dialling, I panic and hang up. What if she’s already been talking to Jackie or Orla? I’m not convinced they believed my story. They said they did, but their expressions didn’t back up their words. They kept giving each other doubtful looks. On second thoughts, maybe I should tell Lesley the truth. I don’t need to say that we went all the way, just that we had a kiss. If I explain how hurt I felt over her lying to me, she’s bound to understand, isn’t she? After all, we’ve both made mistakes. We both need to forgive and to be forgiven.
Just as I’m about to pick up the phone again, it rings.
‘Hello.’
‘Hiya.’
‘Lesley!’ Thank God she sounds cheerful. ‘I was just about to ring you.’
‘The gingerbread man beat you to it.’
‘You’ve been talking to him?’
‘Yeah, for a whole hour. He’s coming down to see me on Friday night.’
Jesus! So much for him wanting me to be his girlfriend. Not that I want to be, but God, what’s he up to now?
‘I can’t fucking wait,’ she says. ‘I feel like Rapunzel stuck inside this house for the past week. It’s doing my head in. Bad as school is, this kip’s way worse.’
‘So you’re still as mad about him as ever then?’
‘Madder.’
‘Oh.’ I know now that if I tell her the truth, our friendship is over.
As she babbles on about what he said to her and what she said to him, it becomes apparent that he hasn’t mentioned anything about me being in the van with him. He and I hadn’t discussed what excuse I’d come up with for disappearing from the school for over an hour. As soon as the sex was over for him, he drove me back in silence as far as the end of the avenue, where he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said he’d see me the following Wednesday. Luckily, my biology teacher was doing an experiment and had not noticed my absence.
‘So, you weren’t talking to Jackie or Orla this evening?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘Not yet. But I’m expecting Jackie any minute. She met Keith down the town earlier on and told him she’d be calling over to see me.’
I have to tell her what I told the girls quickly before Jackie gets to her house to fill her in.
‘Lesley, Johnny’s really cracked about you.’ I can hear the quiver in my voice.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I know so. He told me.’
She screams down the phone. ‘Yes! Tell me more.’
‘I was nearly caught talking to him.’
‘By who?’
‘Sister Bernadine.’
‘Ah, I wouldn’t worry about her. She’s seen me there with him loads of times. Sure, you know yourself, the daft oul bat hasn’t a clue who’s who.’
‘She might be a bit doddery, but she’s no fool. She must have known there was something going on when she complained to PMT about all the girls hanging around the bread van. Anyway, I had to get into the van to dodge her.’
‘Why didn’t you just run off like we usually do?’
‘Cos I still had the note in my pocket, so I hopped into the passenger seat and ducked.’
She starts to laugh. ‘Oh, you’re a mad bitch, fair dues to you.’
‘It wasn’t fucking funny. I waited ages for her to go back into the ref so that I could get out, but she didn’t. I’m telling you, she definitely suspected something, because she hung around outside waiting for Johnny to leave and I couldn’t budge. I was trapped.’
‘Ya poor eejit, ya.’
‘In the end, Johnny had to drive off with me still in the van.’
‘Go way.’
‘Honest to God. I never felt as sick in my life. I thought, this is it, I’m going to be expelled and all because of Lesley Kelly and her mental love life.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ She’s still giggling.
‘It’s all right.’ I’m glad now I opted for the lie.
‘So what happened then?’
‘We parked out the road, had a couple of smokes and talked about you.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That he loved you.’ Well, it is what she wants to hear. And with any luck, it might turn her off him. Any boyfriend who’d been foolish enough to mention the ‘L’ word to Lesley ended up getting the heave-ho within a week. ‘I would’ve got out at the end of the avenue only he kept going on about you and asking me tons of questions. I’m telling you, he has it bad.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Then why does he act so bloody cool? I mean, even on the phone this evening, I practically had to beg the bollocks to meet me on Friday night. I just don’t know what to make of him.’
‘He’s trying to keep you keen.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah. He reckons if he was all over you, you’d get bored.’
‘That’s the crafty oul fecker. He’s playing games with me.’
‘He’s right though, isn’t he? If he was smothering you with attention, you’d have dumped him long ago.’
‘Johnny can give me as much attention as he likes. I’ll never stop loving him.’
‘You sound happy.’
‘Happy! Cloud nine my arse, I’m on fucking Jupiter. I was beginning to think he was just using me.’
Shit! I’ve gone too far. I’ve built up her hopes, knowing that Johnny has every intention of letting her down. I didn’t set out to hurt her, it’s just …
‘So youse didn’t talk about anything else except me.’
‘No, not a thing.’
‘Lovely stuff! He really does have it bad so.’
‘Don’t tell him I told you what he said.’
‘I won’t.’
‘In fact, as far as you’re concerned, I just gave him the note and left.’
‘OK. Oh, there’s the doorbell now. It’s probably Jackie. Hang on a second.’
I hear her telling Jackie that I’m on the phone.
‘I’d better go. Jackie’s in a tizzy about something. I’ll talk to you tomorrow and thanks; you’re the fucking best.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Oh, hang on a second, Frances. What was that, Jackie?’
I hear mumbling in the background.
‘Jackie wants to know if you’ve looked in the mirro
r lately.’
‘Looked in the mirror? Why? What’s she on about?’
‘She wants to know what you’re on about,’ she says to Jackie.
‘Tell her she’ll know when she looks in the mirror.’
‘She says –’
‘Yeah, I know. I heard her.’
‘Well, when you find what you’re looking for, let me know, won’t you?’
‘Yeah, OK. I’ll talk to you later,’ I say, a horrible sense of uneasiness sweeping over on me.
Standing in front of the hall mirror, I take several deep breaths before slowly raising my eyes in dread. What? I can’t see anything unusual. Fair enough, my hair is a bit of a mess, but then my hair is always like that – wild-looking. It’s all the gel I use. What am I supposed to be looking for? Do I look like I’ve just lost my virginity? Do I look like a slut? A liar? What’s she on about?
Back in my bedroom, I start imagining the conversation that is taking place between Lesley and Jackie. It switches from talking about the good friend I am one minute, to calling me a scheming bitch the next. In fact, under the circumstances, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were planning on battering the crap out of me.
Stop panicking, I think, flicking through my Maths book. Why would they? They don’t know what I’ve done. They couldn’t possibly.
I muddle through my homework as best I can, but at the back of my mind the question is still niggling me – What am I supposed to see in the mirror?
Before I go to bed, I go into the bathroom to wash my hair. Filling the wash-hand basin with warm water, I take off my cardigan and turn down the collar of my uniform blouse. As I lower my head into the water, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and there it is – a dirty big love bite on the side of my neck. SHITE! How the hell had I missed it? I turn the collar back the way it had been just to see if it covers the bruise. It does, except when I turn my head to the right.
When my mother calls me for school the following morning, I’m already awake.
‘I suppose you are a bit on the pale side,’ she says when I tell her I have a woeful headache and cannot go to school.
I spend the next three days moping around the house in my dressing-gown and slippers. With all the hours I have to rack my brains, I cannot think of a way out of the mess I’m in. By Sunday afternoon, I haven’t made or received any phone calls. My mother says that if I’m not fit for school the following morning, I’ll have to see the doctor, because three days is too long for anyone to have a headache. What am I going to do? I cannot face losing Lesley. Without her, my life is a joke. I should have rung her as soon as I saw the love bite and told her I’d had a snog with one of the boys from the village. Out of desperation, she might have believed me. But I was in that much of a heap at the time, I couldn’t think clearly. She’s bound to have come to the conclusion by now that I’m as guilty as sin.
‘You didn’t have any breakfast,’ my mother says, nabbing me on my way out the door on Monday morning.
‘I didn’t feel like it.’
She’s been watching me closely over the past few days. She knows there’s something up.
As the bus pulls in at the school gates, I spot Lesley by the wall chatting with Jackie and Orla, and hiding a cigarette behind her back. As usual, they’re waiting for me. I suppose that’s a good sign. Still, it doesn’t stop me from blushing profusely as I step off the bus and walk over to join them.
‘Well, any crack?’ Orla says.
‘She’s been sick in bed,’ Lesley says. ‘How the hell would she have any crack?’ She rolls her beautiful eyes.
‘Want a fag?’ Jackie asks, holding out her packet of Major.
‘Thanks.’
‘How did your date go Friday night, Lesley?’ It’s the most natural question I can think of asking.
‘It was all right,’ she says, shrugging.
‘Just all right?’
‘Yeah. I’m getting a bit bored with him. I fancy someone else more.’
‘You’re joking. Who?’ I can’t believe it.
She smiles at me. ‘That would be telling.’
‘It’s just because he said he loved you, isn’t it?’
‘You were the one who said that would put me off, remember? And you were right. It has. I can’t abide that soppy oul shite.’
‘But you said you loved him.’
‘Not to his face I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I’m not that pathetic. Anyway, I was telling the girls yesterday: I’m gonna break it off with him on Wednesday.’
The girls start sniggering.
‘What’s so funny, youse two?’ Lesley asks.
‘You,’ Orla says. ‘You’ve more lovers than Elizabeth Taylor.’
‘Huh! And so I should have: I’m much better-looking. Aren’t I, Frances?’
‘Yeah. I think so anyway.’
Jackie bursts out laughing.
‘Jealousy will get you nowhere,’ Lesley says, flinging her butt on to the wet grass. ‘Come on, Frances. Thank God I’ve one true friend.’
I can’t stop myself from smiling the whole way up the avenue. I’m thrilled that Lesley is over Johnny. At last, things will go back to the way they were between me and Lesley before he came along and turned her head. Now, she’ll have more time for me. No one mentions anything about what I was supposed to be looking for in the mirror.
During our first class, Maths, Lesley passes a note over to me saying: I missed you like crazy. XXX.
Because of our giddiness in the past, we’re not allowed to sit together. When I look over at her, she has her head down pretending to be looking at her Maths book, but she’s peeping out from underneath her hands at me.
I missed you too. XXX. I scrawl at the bottom of her note and pass it back.
She winks over at me when she reads and starts writing again.
How much? she writes.
Tucks, I reply.
Good, cos you’re the one I fancy more than GBM. I have to read it twice. Jesus, is she serious? I can feel the heat on my face. I look up at her again. There’s a glint in her eye. It’s impossible not to get carried away. The note is written on such a tiny scrap of paper, I have to tear a piece from the back of my copy.
QUIT MESSING!!!! I write.
I’m not messing, I swear.
I don’t know what to think. I do love Lesley, but am I in love with her? Am I? I look across at her again. Yes. There’s no doubt about it. I’m in love with her.
Good. I feel the same way. My heart is racing as I write it.
Tell me what you want to do to me. It’s written on the bottom of the same piece of paper.
‘What are you giggling at, Miss Fall?’ the teacher says. ‘Perhaps you’d like to share the joke with the rest of the class.’
‘Nothing. Sorry, Miss.’
After a minute, when I haven’t replied to Lesley’s note, she starts making eyes at me and squiggling her pen a few inches above her book, indicating to me to reply to her last message. I nod towards the teacher, letting her know that she’s keeping an eye on me. But Lesley doesn’t give up. She wants an answer. ‘Go on,’ she mouths. The other girls are watching us. When the teacher turns to write an equation on the black-board, I tear off another strip of paper from the back page of my copy.
I want to see you naked. I want to kiss your lips. XXX.
‘This is the last one,’ the girl beside me whispers when I fold the note and hand it to her to pass on.
I watch a beautiful smile spread across Lesley’s face as she reads it.
After class, she comes over and sits on my desk. She leans across and cups her hands around my ear.
‘See you later,’ she whispers, and then, for a couple of seconds, holds my earlobe between her teeth, making my skin tingle with pleasure.
Before I get the chance to draw a reactional breath, she’s down off the desk and flouncing across the classroom, picking up her Art books on her way out. Feeling flustered, I look around the classroom to see if any of the girls are watching
me, but no one is. They’re all busy chatting or rummaging through their schoolbags. Having different classes to attend, Lesley and I don’t see each other again until lunchtime.
It’s a cold, crispy January afternoon. The sky is still and pale.
‘Will we go for a walk?’ she says.
‘Yeah.’ I smile at her.
We’re both wearing scarves and fingerless gloves. No jackets. We stroll down the tree-lined path towards the orchard, puffing condensation from our speechless mouths. There are still the remnants of autumn leaves on the ground. My heart is pounding and my lips have gone dry. Without saying a word, she slips her hand in mine. I gasp and look behind me.
‘Relax, will you?’ she says. ‘No one is going to see us. It’s always deserted down here in the winter.’
‘OK,’ I say, squeezing her hand gently. ‘OK.’
‘Where did you put the notes I wrote you?’
‘Here.’ I open my skirt pocket and take them out. ‘You must have the others.’
‘I tore them up and flushed them down the bog after Art class,’ she says, taking the pieces of paper from me and burning them with her lighter. ‘Always get rid of the evidence, that’s what I say.’
‘Yeah, I suppose. Can you imagine the gossip if anyone found out?’
‘I couldn’t give a fuck about gossip, could you?’
‘No, but –’
‘But nothing. You’re ashamed of how you feel, aren’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Yes you are. And you’re ashamed of me,’ she says, stomping on ahead of me.
I run to catch up with her. ‘I’m not ashamed, Lesley,’ I tell her, laying my hand on her shoulder.
She shrugs it off and turns to me with watery eyes. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
Raising her face to the pale sky, she bites her lip and sighs. ‘OK, I believe you.’
‘It’s just when you said about getting rid of the evidence, I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.’
‘I couldn’t give a flying shite what other people think; I just didn’t want to get you into trouble. I care about you.’
The Fall Girl Page 21