Locked Out of Heaven

by Shirley Benton

“Doesn’t mean you have to like her. She said you’re skint – is that why you’re babysitting us?”

  “Yes. I’m completely skint.”

  “But how?”

  I gave Tropicana a short, “edited for a fifteen-year-old’s ears” version of why I was penniless.

  “So this is what you’re doing about it? Starting a babysitting service?”

  “Well, no.”

  I proceeded to give Tropicana another edited version of what I was doing about my situation. I couldn’t quite believe I was having this conversation with him, but there wasn’t much I could do to stop it now except get up and walk out of the room.

  He frowned when I finished speaking. “So you’re relying on this Luke dude to get you gigs. Not good.”

  “Why?”

  “Ever heard of the phrase ‘you have to cast your net wider’? That’s one that Mum uses whenever I complain about the girls in my school. She says I should go down to the convent at lunchtime and chat up the girls there instead.”

  I decided not to comment on that.

  “But where am I supposed to cast my imaginary net? The convent girls aren’t much use to me and to be honest, I thought I was doing well having Luke on my side,” I said, the surrealism of this conversation continuing unabated.

  “You need to get your campaign out there. Facebook, Twitter, a viral campaign on YouTube . . . no, wait, I have it. You need Kelvin.”

  “Kelvin?”

  “Yeah, that guy from the morning show who interviewed you. Do you not remember him?”

  “Of course I do! I just mean . . . he’d rip me to bits! What were you doing watching that morning show, anyway? Are you not a bit too young?”

  “It’s hardly porn. In fact, it’s a show for grannies.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “Mum has it on in the mornings before I go to school. She was roaring and screaming at me and Jaguar to come over to the telly and watch it because you were on it. We didn’t know you from the back of our arses, but she was mad into it because you were Susie’s young wan.”

  I was about to ask him if he had any more great moneymaking ideas, when I heard the front door open and shut. I looked at my watch – it was only 3 a.m. A few seconds later, Hawaii stumbled into the kitchen.

  “Before you say a word, give me back what you owe me right now before I forget,” she said, throwing her shoes to either corner of the room as she did so. “Nothing but a pack of blind eejits out tonight. A waste of make-up and my good fake tan.”

  I retrieved what I owed her for the rest of the night and morning – minus the cost of the takeaway – and put it on the table, trying not to sigh as I did so. That brought tonight’s earnings down to 162 euros. It was still a very good night’s work for just babysitting and I should be grateful to have earned anything, but I’d spent the 350 already in my head on outstanding bills.

  I looked up to see Tropicana’s eyes flitting between me and the money.

  “Give that morning show a ring tomorrow,” he said as he got up to leave. “You can’t be any worse off for it than you are now.”

  As I watched Hawaii scooping up her money and putting it down her boob tube, I had to agree with him.

  Chapter 21

  “So, let me see if I’m clear about this,” Kelvin said. “You want to pimp yourself.”

  “Well . . . my life.”

  “You want to pimp your life.”

  “Well . . . yes.”

  “Holly’s just being very open about using her profile as a platform for financial opportunities,” Luke added quickly. “Really, she’s just doing what others have been doing for years.”

  “Making money on the back of a TV show.”

  “I haven’t actually made any money yet,” I added. “I’d like to, though.” I cleared my throat. “You see, Kelvin, I’m totally penniless. I’m in a situation where I can’t currently provide for my children. I know there are many other people in the same situation as me in this country and I have the height of sympathy for them.

  “There’s nothing special about me. But what I’m saying here today is that I’m willing to consider any opportunities that anyone watching might deem me suitable for. I can’t just sit back and do nothing. And I’m lucky enough to have a public profile because of Diary of a Boomeranger, so . . .” I shrugged.

  “So you’re using it.”

  “Well, yes, but only because I have to.”

  “Hang on a second now, Holly. You were here not so long ago going on about how you’d be sorted out in six months. What happened to whatever plan you had then to do that?”

  He just couldn’t let it go!

  “Plans change, Kelvin.”

  “In other words, this is it.”

  “This is my new plan.”

  “But wait a second now. Surely you can get help from the state like everyone else?”

  “I’m not eligible for payment for another few months.” I quickly explained the situation. “In the meantime, I’m living on nothing.”

  “And what about your former partner? Isn’t he providing for his children?”

  “I don’t want to discuss the specifics of my former partner’s arrangements, but all I will say is that I’m not in receipt of any income from any sources at all at present.”

  Kelvin frowned. “So how bad is it, then? Can you put bread on the table?”

  “I can until my credit card is maxed out. That should be any day now.”

  “And what happens then?”

  “Then we’ll do without.”

  Kelvin’s eyes widened. “And tell me, Holly, do you ever get people giving you the ‘how the mighty have fallen’ treatment? There you were last year, living in the nicest suburb in this city with a husband out there working to keep you in the lifestyle you must have become accustomed to. And now . . . well, now you’re begging for work opportunities on a breakfast show.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I looked at Luke’s shoes instead while I tried to formulate something. God, his feet were huge. I’d never noticed that about him before.

  “Hang on, Kelvin. That’s very harsh,” Luke said, sitting forwards.

  “I’m only calling it as I see it. It’s an undeniable fact that this time last year, Holly had a lot more than she has now. I’m betting that this time last year, Holly wouldn’t have been seen dead doing what she’s doing right now. Am I correct, Holly?”

  “Well, I suppose it’s fair to say that my pockets were a lot deeper this time last year, yes. As for how I’m being treated, everyone has been very supportive—”

  “Ah, everyone always says that. Let me tell you, Holly, there’s always someone out there delighted to see other people falling down. And those people don’t want you to get back up, either.”

  “Well, if they’re out there, I haven’t come across them,” I lied.

  What else could I do? Name and shame Hawaii on live TV?

  “They’re out there. Trust me.”

  “I hope you’re not one of them, Kelvin,” Luke said.

  He smiled, but he didn’t look all that amused.

  “If I was, neither of you would be sitting here. So what kind of opportunities exactly are you looking for here? You’d better specify or else we’ll have people ringing in asking if you’re interested in becoming a gravedigger or a stripper.”

  I could hear the producer’s admonishing voice coming through Kelvin’s earpiece from where I was sitting.

  “I’d be very interested in appearing on other TV shows, or doing public appearances to promote certain products, or writing columns. But as I said, I’ll consider almost anything, but probably not stripping.”

  “So you’re not ruling out the gravedigging.”

  “As things stand at the moment, I’m not in a position to rule much out! I just want to be able to provide for my family, both long- and short-term. That’s all I want. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen if I can.”

  “Okay. Well, good luck to you, Hol
ly – particularly in the current economic climate – and I hope your appearance on the show today brings a few opportunities your way.” He turned to the camera. “That was Holly Richards from Diary of a Boomeranger and the show’s producer, Luke Loughnane. We’ll take a commercial break and we’ll be back shortly.”

  I thanked Kelvin as Luke and I were ushered off set. By the time we got backstage, my legs were shaking uncontrollably.

  “You okay?” Luke took my arm.

  “Yes . . . it’s just . . . I think I just need a glass of water or something. I’ll be fine in a second.”

  “I have about fifteen minutes to spare if you want to go to the canteen here?”

  I nodded. I didn’t know what I was going to say to Luke about why I was feeling so bad all of a sudden, but I didn’t want to be alone, either.

  Luke ordered me to sit down while he got me a drink. I smiled gratefully when he returned.

  “Sorry about that, Luke. Kelvin just makes me very nervous. Being on TV makes me nervous, to tell you the truth. Maybe that’s a sign that I shouldn’t be working in TV. Do you believe in signs?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re doing great, Holly.”

  “Really? Are you sure you don’t secretly wish you chose someone else for the show?”

  “Why would I?”

  “I suppose . . . well, I don’t have as much going for me as the other two girls, do I? I’m the ugly duckling and they’re beautiful twin swans.”

  “Have you been drinking? That’s the kind of maudlin talk I’d expect to hear at the end of a night out! Or are you fishing for compliments?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Shut up, so.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Then I found myself talking again, even though I hadn’t planned to. Luke seemed to have that effect on me. He was so much less intimidating in person than I’d thought he’d be.

  “Why did you pick me for the show?”

  Luke stared at me for what felt like a very long time before responding.

  “Honestly? There were a few reasons. Number one, you had a great backstory that was guaranteed to get publicity for the show – sorry if that sounds cold, but I said I was going to be honest. Number two, you’re relatable and we need someone like you on the show. And number three . . . well, you reminded me of myself.”

  Number three I wasn’t expecting.

  “How so?”

  Luke’s phone rang. He glanced at it on the table.

  “Ah, shit. I’m sorry, Holly. I’ve got to take this.”

  I nodded.

  In the minute or so that followed, a lot of curses were muttered on both sides of the phone.

  “Holly, I’m sorry. I have to go and help with something that’s gone tits-up. Will you be okay?”

  “Of course. Thanks for the water.”

  “We’ll finish this conversation properly another time, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, hoping and praying that we actually would.

  You reminded me of myself. What the hell was that all about?

  Chapter 22

  1 July 1994

  So, my parents are no longer my mum and dad, Diary. No, that would be too simple. The artist formerly known as Mum announced earlier today that from now on, Cliff and I are to call her Susie. Dad didn’t specify that he was to be called Willie, but Mum – no, Susie – specified it on his behalf. Why? you may ask.

  “You’re grown-ups now,” she says. “You don’t need me to be mum any more.”

  She’s really struggling to cope these days, so I’m just going along with this notion and saying nothing until she gets bored of it. I thought Cliff was going to lose the plot completely when I told him about it, but he seemed to let it go over his head.

  To be honest, Cliff is like a new person since he moved out. The place he moved into is a large house in the city and he’s pally with one of his housemates who’s – and you won’t believe it – a cop! Imagine, someone from the most crime-ridden part of the city being best buds with a guard . . .

  When we were growing up, everyone in this estate tried to brainwash us into thinking the cops were “very bad people” and for that reason alone, I’d say Cliff was determined to like this fella he moved in with. Damien O’Brien, he’s called. We call him Damo though, just for the laugh.

  “While you’re working in Dublin, you’re a Damo,” Cliff says to him.

  Damien aka Damo is from Offaly and grew up on a farm, you see, but he was stationed in Dublin as soon as he’d finished his garda training and has been here since. The pair of them hit it off instantly. According to Cliff, Damo had no prejudice against Cliff over where he was from and before I met Damo, I could never work out why that was. Everyone else in the city instantly thought anyone from our area was a scumbag and I couldn’t blame them – I thought that, too. Damo’s not like that, though – he’s decent.

  The other seven people in the house are students and there’s a definite student–worker divide in the house. If the lads hadn’t liked each other to begin with, they’d surely have bonded through their ploys to stop the others from nicking their supplies by maturely lacing a two-litre bottle of milk with laxatives and buying fake washing powder that turned your clothes bright blue.

  For the last while, Damo has been bringing Cliff on all of his garda nights out to clubs where guards and nurses from the country would drink ridiculous amounts and get off with whoever was standing beside them at the end of the night. It’s a whole new world Cliff never even knew existed and he’s even developed a bit of a country accent.

  Of course, Cliff can never introduce Damo to anyone he knows. Damo would arrest them instantly, as most of them are wanted for about twenty different offences each. But now that he lives on the other side of the city, he never bumps into them, anyway.

  Now, I say we call Damien Damo because I’m hanging out with Cliff a lot these days. It wasn’t long before he started inviting me on the country nights out too, seeing as I haven’t many people left to hang out with apart from Terry. (Yes, we’re still together – more on him anon.) Even though I’m still living at home, I’ve cut all ties with the few old friends I had (on my mother’s request slash demand). I know I have a rep as a stuck-up bitch, but I actually don’t get too much of a hard time because everyone seems to think I’ve just lost my marbles a bit since Ricky died.

  Anyway, I never have any money for nights out and didn’t want to go the first time Cliff invited me, but he turned up on the doorstep a few hours before he was due to head out, pressed some notes into my hand and said I could pay him back when I got a job someday. I knew how badly he never wanted to step foot in our estate again after he’d left, so I couldn’t turn him down after he’d gone to all that effort to get me out. He took me round to his gaff – which the lads call Princes’ Palace – and introduced me to Damo, who smiled warmly at me and shook my hand up and down for about five minutes.

  “What’s the deal with him?” I said to Cliff when Damo went out to the kitchen to make us all some tea. “What was he smiling at me for? Do I look funny?”

  “He was trying to be nice,” Cliff said. “That’s just the way he is.”

  People where I’m from don’t do nice. If you were introduced to someone, they’d look you up and down and try to size you up. The only time they’d touch your hand was if they were trying to wrestle your arm behind your back while they stole any bit of pocket money you might have.

  “There ye go,” Damo said with an even bigger smile than before as he laid the tea down in front of us on a wobbly footstool-type thing. “I have some biscuits hidden upstairs so that the vultures don’t eat them on us while we’re at work. I’ll just get them.”

  “Jaysus,” I hissed at Cliff when Damo was out of the room. “Biscuits as well.”

  “There are nice people in the world, you know,” Cliff said in a cross voice. “They just don’t live in Blackbeg.”

  Damo came back in with his plate of biscuits
.

  “So, are you coming out with us tonight, then?”

  “Yes, as long as you don’t mind me tagging along. I won’t be cramping your style, now will I?”

  Cliff burst his arse laughing. “Does this man look like he’s bothered about style?”

  I shrugged. Damo was a big hulk of a fella, and he was wearing black trousers and a black T-shirt.

  “I think I’m better off saying nothing here,” I said.

  “Smart girl.” Damo gave me a great big smile. “And sure, of course I don’t mind you coming along. Any friend or relative of Cliff’s is a friend or relative of mine.”

  “That’s settled, then,” Cliff said, cracking open a can of lager from the six-pack on the table. He handed it to me. “Take it easy on that now,” he said. “Sip it. No gulping.”

  I did as I was told. The last thing I wanted was to make a fool of myself in front of Cliff’s new friend and never be invited out again.

  We went to the nightclub that Cliff and Damo always went to. I was nervous at first, but as soon as Cliff and Damo dragged me out dancing with a crowd of guards we’d met up with earlier I started to relax. Robert, one of Damo’s friends, grabbed my hand and twirled me around on the dance floor. As I looked down at my whirling skirt, I realised I was really enjoying myself.

  Later that night, Cliff pulled me aside and said, “Listen, I haven’t told Damo about what happened to Ricky and I don’t want him to know either, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want . . .”

  “I don’t want to sound disloyal to Ricky or anything, but . . . well, everyone who knows us knows what happened to our family. We’re now Cliff and Holly, the brother and sister of the promising young student who overdosed. I just want to be myself now. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

  I nodded again, harder this time. “Yes.”

  What Cliff had said might have sounded cruel to someone else, but I got it. We’d been shrouded in misery since Ricky died and Cliff needed to try to shake it off. Why wouldn’t I understand that? What else had all of my studying attempts been about if not the need to see some future other than living with the past?