With All My Love

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘I don’t like being used.’

  ‘Don’t be mad,’ he pleaded, and his eyes were big pools of dismay. ‘I like you a lot, Valerie. Honest!’

  She couldn’t stay angry with him. If he had denied it she would have despised him, but he’d been straight and she could understand his motives. And she liked that he was embarrassed. It showed he wasn’t a bastard after all, just a boy with mixed-up feelings who was capable of being hurt. Someone just like her. She was glad she’d had the courage to bring it up. It had cleared the air between them. They were on a new footing now. It felt right.

  ‘Let’s give Miss Ursula something to be properly jealous about then,’ she said wickedly, a madness coming over.

  Jeff looked at her, stunned. ‘Are you not mad at me?’

  ‘I’m at Queen’s concert, aren’t I?’ She laughed. ‘It’s not as if I fancy you or anything.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Oh!’ he said, a touch deflated.

  Got you, she thought triumphantly. Now I’m in charge.

  It was a heady moment, a life-changing moment. One that she would never forget. She had taken back her power. Was this what women’s liberation was all about? Turning things around so that you were in control of what was happening to you? Not being passive and just accepting whatever men dished out? Valerie wondered briefly, remembering all those Cosmo articles she had read on the subject. Whatever it was, she felt elated.

  Before he knew what was happening, she drew Jeff’s head down to hers and kissed him full on the mouth. His lips were so firm and dry, not like those wet, slobbery lips of that Higgins toad.

  ‘Bet she’ll be good and jealous now,’ she laughed, drawing away and slanting a glance over at the scrawny blonde, who was slit-eyed with fury.

  Jeff laughed. ‘You’re bad!’ he said admiringly. ‘And you’re a sport. Thanks.’

  ‘Let’s just enjoy the concert, it’s gonna be fab,’ she shouted up at him, and her heart lightened as he hugged her tightly, and this time it wasn’t to make anyone jealous, it was just for her.

  By the time ‘Killer Queen’ started to thunderous acclaim from the crowd she didn’t care who was looking or what anyone else was thinking, and she sang and danced uninhibitedly, lost in the magic of the best night of her life.

  ‘That’s you,’ Jeff shouted at her. ‘My Killer Queen!’ And she wiggled her ass, laughing. She was dancing, waving her arms in the air to ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ when her eyes met Jeff’s and for an infinitesimal moment it seemed as though the music faded and it was just the two of them looking at each other as if really seeing each other for the first time, and as though no one else existed, and then they were back in real time, dancing and singing. Forever after, Valerie would say that was the moment she fell in love with Jeff.

  ‘It was brilliant, wasn’t it?’ Valerie turned shining eyes on him when the concert was over. She was fizzing with adrenalin as the freezing night air hit them when they emerged out of the Pavilion in a wave of ecstatically happy fans.

  ‘It’s a pity you can’t stay later.’ Jeff linked her arm. ‘We could go for something else to eat. I’m starving again. We could have a last drink in Toner’s and then have one of Ishmael’s kebabs. They really hit the spot. That’s the plan, anyway, with the rest of them,’ he explained as he walked her to where all the coaches were parked. There were crowds milling around like a swarm of highly excited bees, and she wished she could have had a few minutes alone with him.

  ‘I’d love to stay,’ she said wistfully, ‘but I’ve got to get back. My dad would go spare if I’m out too late. He thinks I’m revising for an exam, don’t forget.’ She’d told him the story she’d concocted with Lizzie’s help.

  ‘It was a great night anyway. I had a lot of fun, Valerie.’ He dropped an arm around her shoulder. ‘And . . . er . . . thanks for being . . . for being so understanding. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything,’ he added hastily.

  ‘Ah, forget it. Do you think it will work? Do you think she’ll come back to you?’ She couldn’t hide her curiosity.

  ‘I don’t want her back. Doing the dirty on someone, especially with a mate is just not on.’ He looked at her and grinned. ‘Forget her, I’d a great night with my Killer Queen,’ he teased affectionately, giving her a squeeze.

  ‘Me too, Jeff. It was the best night of my life. I can’t believe I saw Queen live. They were fantastic. I’ll never settle down to studying after this,’ she declared happily, loving the feeling of his arm around her shoulder. It would have been nice if he’d said, ‘Now that I’ve been on a date with you I wouldn’t want to go back to her,’ but it might take time for Jeff to forget his ex. She’d be waiting, Valerie decided, because she felt they were meant to be together. There was just something about that moment.

  ‘The two of us had better get our heads down, I suppose. Christmas exams are coming up, but I’ll see you around over the holidays next month, won’t I?’ He looked down at her.

  ‘Sure. I owe you a drink at least, for tonight.’ She wondered if he would kiss her. A car park thronged with thousands of people wasn’t the most romantic place for a goodbye kiss but it would be better than not being kissed, she decided. Much to her disappointment he just gave her another hug as they stood at the steps of the bus.

  ‘You’re a real sport, Val. I had a great time. Safe journey home. I won’t be down for the next couple of weekends but I’ll see you over Christmas,’ he said as she hugged him back. ‘Good luck with the swotting and the exams.’

  ‘You too, and thanks for tonight. I had a ball,’ she assured him, conscious that other people were waiting to get on the bus behind her.

  If he had kissed her it would have been an almost perfect night, she decided as she sat on the shabby threadbare seat in the warmth of the coach as it sped along the Stillorgan dual carriageway towards Wicklow. The buzz of animated chatter from her fellow concert-goers hummed all around her, but all she could think of was Jeff. He was so easy to talk to, good-humoured and good-natured, and very handsome. Was he interested in her at all or was he still consumed by the cheating Ursula? And had she scuppered her chances by saying she didn’t fancy him? It was hard to know. Saying he’d see her over Christmas was not a commitment to meet up or anything. But then there was that magic moment between them when ‘Crazy Little Thing’ was being belted out. She hadn’t imagined it. She knew she hadn’t. It was all a bit nerve-racking, Valerie thought sleepily as adrenalin gave way to tiredness, and the heat and drone of the engine made her drowsy so that she fell into a doze as the miles sped by.

  Jeff made his way back into town. He was too late for last orders, he reckoned, but he’d meet up with his mates at Ishmael’s. He was ravenous, and on a high. It had been a cracker of a night, far better than he had anticipated, and that was all thanks to Valerie. She really was a great girl. He had been beyond embarrassed when she’d asked him straight out if he’d brought her to the concert to make Ursula jealous. Because that had been his intention.

  When he had caught Ursula and George Owens snogging in George’s parents’ bedroom he had been gutted. George was supposed to be a mate. He’d thrown a party when his parents were at a medical conference in Barcelona. The house, a detached red-brick Victorian in Drumcondra, was perfect for an all-nighter. It had been one of the best parties he’d been to since he’d started college, with lots of drink, hash and loud disco music. He and Ursula had been hitting the dance floor, boogying to beat the band, and then she’d said she was going to the loo. He’d gone into the kitchen and cracked open another can of beer and chatted to a few girls who were sitting at the breakfast counter. He’d shared a spliff and felt a bit woozy and had dozed off for a while on a sofa in the conservatory. The music was still throbbing when he’d woken up and gone in search of Ursula.

  ‘I saw her talking to George upstairs, a while ago,’ Andy, one of his mates, said when he asked around if anyone had seen her.

  They weren’t talking when he found them. George had h
er pressed against a wall with his hands up under her top and she was kissing him, her hands running through his lank black hair.

  ‘You dirty slapper,’ he exploded, and both of them looked at him in dismay.

  ‘Hey, mate, it was just a drunken snog,’ George mumbled. ‘She’s a tasty bird and I got carried away.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you can have her, ya big fat dopey bastard,’ Jeff had sworn, then barrelled down the stairs and out the door, Ursula calling his name as he went. ‘Bitch!’ he’d muttered as he walked towards Drumcondra road. ‘You and I are finished.’

  He’d hailed a taxi near Fagan’s, gave the address of his digs in Phibsboro, and leaned back against the smoke-riddled seat patterned with black cigarette burns.

  Ursula was studying to be a primary teacher in St Pat’s and he’d really fancied her the first time he’d met her at a party in the college. They’d been going together for the past three months and had started sleeping together. He’d thought he was in love and had considered bringing her home to meet his parents. That would not be happening now, he assured himself drunkenly. Ursula was history. That lecher Owens could have her. They deserved each other, although what Ursula could see in George was beyond him. His classmate looked like a lugubrious bloodhound, with bulging round eyes, a lardy physique and a tendency to spit when he got excited in conversation. Ursula must have been well drunk when she snogged him, because that was the only way any woman would go near him, Jeff thought bitterly as his heart twisted in pain to think that the girl he loved could betray him so easily.

  ‘Look, I was pissed out of my skull. I can’t believe I snogged that bullfrog,’ Ursula pleaded the following day on the phone. ‘Jeff, I’m sorry, really sorry. Please don’t end it like this. Let’s meet up and talk about it.’

  ‘Nothing to talk about. I was pretty hammered too but I didn’t go around letting girls maul me and sticking my tongue down your so-called friends’ throats. How would you feel if I snogged Barbara?’ he retorted, still furious and with an almighty hangover to boot.

  ‘Aw Jeff, grow up and don’t be so childish,’ she snapped defensively. ‘You’re not living in the sticks now. Get over yourself. That’s what happens at parties in the big city.’

  ‘Ursula, George is welcome to you and you’re welcome to him. He’s an asshole and you’re well suited.’ With that stinging put-down he’d hung up and felt quite proud of himself. It was the first time a girl had done the dirty on him. He had always felt quite the ladies’ man in Rockland’s and his ego was more than bruised. Ursula’s derisive implication that he was an unsophisticated hick rankled.

  He had made the transition from a small fishing village to the big city pretty damn well, he thought angrily. And he’d been enjoying his life in Dublin until she’d mucked it up. He’d felt extremely sorry for himself as he shoved his sports gear into his bag and set off to the Phoenix Park for a few hours’ football training.

  Three times that week, Ursula rang him in his digs begging him to meet her. On the last call she said furiously, ‘You’re so childish, Jeff. What about my Queen ticket? We’d better meet so I can get it from you. I’ll pay you for it.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not bringing you to Queen. You can forget that. And I’m not selling it. See if George can get you a ticket, Ursula, and don’t ring me again because I’m studying and I’m telling the landlady I’m not taking your calls,’ he said calmly, and wished he could have seen her face as she let out an outraged squawk before he hung up.

  He hoped that Barbara Nugent, the skinny blonde Valerie had copped watching them, would relay all the night’s events to his ex. But surprisingly he wasn’t that pushed about whether he saw Ursula again. After tonight he had a new girl on his mind. Valerie had surprised him . . . a lot. When she’d told him she didn’t fancy him he’d been miffed, to say the least, and when she had kissed him so Barbara could tell Ursula all about it, he’d very much liked her spark, and the taste of her soft lips against his. And she was good fun, and much less serious than Ursula, who fancied herself as a serious intellectual and liked to appear superior and sophisticated. She wouldn’t have let herself go dancing uninhibitedly like Valerie had at the concert. Well, he was going to stick with unsophisticated women and he was going to make Valerie fancy him for sure. Something had happened between them tonight, something very nice. Nice was better than what Ursula Byrne offered him. Nice would do fine, Jeff decided as he emerged onto Baggot Street, whistling.

  A biting sea breeze whistled around Valerie as she stepped off the bus at Rockland’s, making her shiver, and she wished she had something warmer on under her coat than the flimsy boob tube. She raced across The Triangle over to Lizzie’s house, where she retrieved her school bag from behind the garden wall, where Lizzie had hidden it beneath a shrub for her, and then hurried down the back lane and let herself into the yard. She pulled the bolt back gently on the shed door and rooted for the torch on top of the shelf. She pointed the beam of light to her school bag and took out make-up remover and cotton wool pads. Swiftly removing her make-up, she pulled on her school sweater over her boob tube, and hoisted up her uniform skirt before pulling off her high heels and jeans and slipping into her shoes. She folded up her concert clothes and hid them and her cigarettes in her school bag: necessary precautions just in case her father was still up, although it was unlikely. It was after twelve thirty; he was usually in bed before midnight.

  Her mother was reading the paper in front of the fire, the dying orange embers in the grate cosy-looking in the lamplight. There was always a fire burning in the grate. Terence had access to the free fuel vouchers for the elderly at work and he helped himself, much to Carmel’s disgust. ‘That’s stealing,’ she’d told him angrily, more than once. ‘You’re ripping off tax payers, the ordinary people, Terence. Ordinary people like us have to pay for those fuel vouchers and all that other stuff you pilfer.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m a tax payer too. For the pittance I’m paid I deserve it, so zip it,’ he’d retorted. He had a shed full of cleaning solutions, paint, paint brushes, ladders and the like, all acquired through nefarious ways, and Carmel was petrified that he would be caught nicking stuff and get the sack and make a holy show of them. It was a source of constant argument between them.

  Her mother looked careworn and tired, Valerie thought with a pang. Her once nut-brown hair was liberally sprinkled with grey strands, and the glasses she had to wear for reading prematurely aged her. Her mother lived a drab life, Valerie acknowledged with a flash of pity. Had she ever felt anything like the exhilaration Valerie had felt a few hours earlier? Had she ever felt utterly alive and happy? Looking at Carmel, she was so glad she’d grasped the opportunity that had come her way. The Queen concert would be something to look back on with pleasure, if her life turned out to be as dreary as her mother’s, although she had every intention of making sure that it didn’t.

  ‘Hi, Mam, just heading to bed. ’Night,’ she said, stifling a yawn.

  ‘You’re very late.’ Carmel raised her head from the paper and lowered her glasses.

  ‘I didn’t like to leave Lizzie on her own,’ she said quickly. ‘’Night.’ She hated lying to her mother. It was bad enough that Terence treated Carmel so disrespectfully, without Valerie telling her lies.

  ‘Sleep well,’ Carmel said tiredly, folding up the paper and putting the guard in front of the fire.

  ‘I will,’ Valerie said, removing her shoes to walk silently down the hall to her own room. She could hear her father’s snores and felt a wave of relief he was none the wiser about her great adventure. Lying snug under her patchwork quilt in her lilac and white painted room, with the wind whistling down the chimney of the small fireplace, she re-examined every moment of the night’s events. Like the miser Silas Marner, counting his gold, she polished those precious memories and stored them deep in the vault of her brain where they would be taken out and mulled over for many nights to come.

  Life, she decided happily, had never been this good.

&
nbsp; ‘I want a word with you, madam!’ Valerie felt a sudden apprehension as she looked up from her French verbs and saw her father standing at her bedroom door. She had been so immersed in her revision she hadn’t heard him come in from the bingo where he called out the numbers every week.

  She knew the minute she saw the aggressive jut of his jaw and the thinning of his lips that she was in big trouble. She said nothing, keeping her expression neutral, and just hoped he couldn’t hear the telltale thumping of her heart.

  ‘You told me lies, you sly little liar!’ He closed the door behind him and she felt a deep fear. ‘You weren’t babysitting! You were at a concert in Dublin, weren’t you? And don’t try to lie to me. A lad I know from work was at it and he saw you hanging out of some fella in the queue.’ He stuck his face into hers, and she could see the broken veins in his nose and the glitter of hard anger in his watery grey eyes. ‘Did you enjoy it, Valerie?’ he said viciously.

  ‘Yeah,’ she muttered, knowing there was no point in trying to get out of it. She wouldn’t put it past him to march her up to Lizzie’s sister to see if she’d been babysitting, if she insisted she had been.

  ‘Well, now you’re going to pay for your enjoyment. You don’t tell me a host of lies and get away with it, you lying little tramp.’ He stood up and unbuckled his belt.

  ‘Don’t you hit me with that!’ she exclaimed, startled, jumping to her feet. He’d never hit her before and certainly not with his belt. She couldn’t believe it was happening. She couldn’t believe that Terence had such dominion over her that he felt it was perfectly acceptable to inflict physical pain on her. She had never felt so powerless or so vulnerable as he blocked her way to the door. Fury suffused his face as he shoved her back against the bed.

  ‘I’ll hit you with whatever I like, miss. You won’t make a fool of me again,’ he shouted, raising his hand high and bringing the belt down with all the strength he could muster.

  As the lashes rained down she clenched her teeth to stop herself from groaning. He would not know how much pain he was inflicting. He would not know how humiliated and helpless she felt. But he would know how much she despised and loathed him, she vowed. And she would never, ever forgive him.