by Marian Keyes
‘You’ll leave Dee alone and you’ll apologize to us?’ Grace said in a flat voice. ‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it. Take the offer right now or it’s off the table.’
‘Take it, Grace,’ Selma urged in a low voice.
‘Don’t,’ Zara said.
‘Clock is ticking,’ Paddy said.
‘Take it, Grace,’ Selma repeated.
‘Don’t!’ Zara said. ‘We can get more.’
‘But he says he won’t –’ Grace protested.
‘This is all we’ll get,’ Selma said.
‘No.’ Zara was clearly very angry. ‘Wait. We’ve got the power here.’
Marnie watched Paddy watching the tripartite tussle. His face gleamed: he obviously loved this stuff.
‘Time’s running out, girls,’ he said.
‘What do you think, Lola?’ Selma asked.
‘Hold out for more,’ Lola said. ‘The resignation at least.’
‘Marnie?’ Selma asked.
Marnie was surprised to be asked. ‘Take it.’ She’d like the apology.
‘Three…’ Paddy said. ‘… Two…’
‘Take it!’
‘No!’ Zara made one last-ditch attempt to change their course. ‘Hold out for more.’
‘… One!’
With a heavy sigh Grace said, ‘Majority vote.’ She turned to Paddy, ‘Okay, Paddy. We’ll take it.’
‘Wise choice, very wise choice.’
Marnie was fascinated by how he found this so very amusing. Clearly he thrived on it. ‘And I’ll have the originals of those affidavits, thanks. Get them round to me tomorrow.’
‘Okay,’ Grace said, looking very subdued.
If Marnie didn’t know for a fact that Grace never cried, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if a tear or two had trickled down Grace’s face.
‘Go on, then,’ Grace sighed at Paddy.
‘Go on, then, what…?’
‘Apologize.’
‘What? When?’
‘Now.’
‘You mean… right now?’
‘When were you thinking of?’
‘… Well…’ He shifted back in his seat.
‘When else?’ Grace asked. ‘The gang’s all here.’
Paddy pushed himself further into his chair. Marnie watched in fascination: he really didn’t want to do this. ‘It doesn’t have to be now,’ he said.
‘Probably best if it is,’ Grace said. ‘It might be a long time before we’re all together again. Go on,’ Grace urged. ‘Start with Lola.’
Paddy looked at Lola. He seemed lost for words. ‘… Lola, I’m…’
Way out of your comfort zone, Marnie thought.
‘– Sorry –’ Grace prompted.
‘– sorry if I hurt you.’
‘And for saying my hair was purple,’ Lola said in her little voice. ‘It’s Molichino.’
‘Molichino,’ he echoed.
Next along was Zara. ‘Zara, I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
Zara gave a sardonic smirk and Paddy moved to Selma. ‘Selma, I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
‘Marnie, I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
It had happened too fast; Marnie had expected special words which pertained exclusively to her, but already he was on to Grace.
‘Grace, I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
Last apology done, Paddy exhaled with evident relief – and after a split second the room exploded into laughter. All of them – except for Marnie – were howling.
What was going on, she wondered.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Paddy seemed confused.
‘You,’ Zara said. ‘We’re laughing at you.’
‘Why?’ Paddy frowned suspiciously at her.
“‘I’m sorry if I hurt you!” ’ Selma mimicked. ‘How do you think a broken wrist feels?’
‘Or a ruptured spleen!’ Zara said.
‘Or a dislocated shoulder!’
‘Did you really think we expected you’d resign and go to America?’ Grace asked cheerfully.
‘But why did you say –?’ Paddy asked.
Marnie suddenly understood.
So, from the shut-down expression on his face, did Paddy.
‘Oldest negotiating trick in the book,’ Grace said. ‘Ask for more than you want. And you fell for it because you thought we were just a bunch of stupid women. All we wanted was a commitment from you to stop sabotaging Dee.’
‘Did you like the way we did it?’ Selma asked giddily. “‘Take it, Grace!” “No, don’t take it, Grace!” ’
It had all been rehearsed, Marnie realized. Right down to the tremor in Grace’s voice. She remembered now how, earlier in the day, Grace had invited her to be in on the whole thing, but she’d been too angry.
‘But the apologies…?’ Paddy asked faintly.
‘That was just for the laugh!’
‘Like your apology would count for anything!’ Zara declared with terrible scorn. ‘Like we’d ever forgive you!’
‘We knew you’d hate having to do it,’ Grace said. ‘After all, being a power-mad mentaller means never having to say you’re sorry.’
Paddy rose to his feet; his fists were clenched.
‘Whoahhhhh!’ All five of them exclaimed in mock fear, as if they’d choreographed it.
‘Careful, Paddy,’ Grace said. ‘You don’t know your own strength. You might hurt someone there!’
‘Keep him away from any lit cigarettes!’ Lola said, and the laughter broke forth again with renewed intensity.
Paddy lowered himself slowly back into his seat and his eyes moved from one woman to the next, as all of them laughed at him. He hadn’t expected this, Marnie knew. To her eyes, he actually looked frightened.
‘We only made you apologize, in order to humiliate you!’
‘And look at you,’ Grace declared, breaking into a fresh round of hilarity. ‘You’re mortified!’
In high spirits, they skipped and tripped back down the stairs to Dee.
‘It was a triumph!’ Grace told her.
Everyone was talking over each other – everyone except Marnie – telling Dee what had happened.
‘… and Grace was pretending to be nervous…’
‘… and then Selma said, “Take it!” and Zara said, “Don’t!”…
‘… and Paddy was smirking away, thinking we were falling apart…’
‘… and Paddy was so humiliated…’
‘Everyone back to mine for drinks!’ Dee said. ‘Grace, ring that man of yours, he deserves to be in on this. If it wasn’t for him, none of it would have happened.’
Grace looked anxiously at Marnie and said, ‘Ah no, Dee, it’s late, he might be in bed.’
‘So get him out of bed!’ Dee ordered. ‘We’re celebrating here!’
‘No, let’s leave it –’
Marnie understood. Grace was afraid that Marnie would tell Damien about Grace and Paddy.
‘Ring him,’ Marnie said quietly. ‘I’m not going to say anything.’
She’d already caused so much destruction, especially to Daisy and Verity. The world was too full of pain, she couldn’t add any more. Yet she was angry with Grace. She hadn’t forgiven her. Maybe I never will. The thought was surprising. Interesting.
Despite Marnie’s assurance, Grace claimed she couldn’t get hold of Damien. ‘No answer,’ she said, snapping her mobile shut.
‘Try the house phone,’ Dee ordered.
‘I’ve tried it.’
‘Try his mobile.’
‘I’ve tried it.’
‘Try his office.’
‘I’ve tried it.’
‘Leave a message telling him what’s going on. Maybe he’ll come along later,’ Dee said. ‘Okay! Everyone, let’s go.’
Marnie got into Selma’s car but asked to be dropped off at a taxi rank.
‘Aren’t you coming to Dee’s to celebrate?’ Selma and Zara seemed quite shocked.
Marnie shook her head. She just wanted to escape. S
he wished she could go back to London immediately, but the last flight of the night had left.
‘If you’re sure…’ Selma said.
‘Quite sure.’ Marnie jumped out and caught a cab back to Ma and Dad’s.
The full import of the night’s events was settling on her. There was no getting around it, no avoiding the truth, that she’d been nothing to Paddy – nobody; a teenage thing that he’d totally forgotten. So many other women had come after her, including her own sister. Women who overshadowed her, who’d been with Paddy for longer, who’d lived with him…
Marnie’s face smarted with heat as she acknowledged that she had hoped that he’d behave as though they shared a special bond which transcended the passage of time; that although their love had been too incendiary to survive, they had carried each other in their hearts as they forged their different paths.
But theirs hadn’t been a grand passion. The simple truth was that she’d been a neurotic, insecure fuck-up and he’d joined in for a while before changing his mind and deciding that, actually, he wanted to be normal after all.
She felt humiliated and angry, but who was she angry with? Grace? Paddy? Herself?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was returning to London in the morning and that she was not alone.
Alcohol was there for her.
It would never let her down.
Grace
The phone rang, jolting me from a deep drunken sleep and my heart nearly exploded from the shock of the noise. I’d been up halfthe night, celebrating with Dee, Selma and Zara. It had been after five when I’d staggered in, rowdy and raucous, and woken Damien up. ‘Where were you?’ I pulled at him. ‘I was ringing and ringing you to come and join the party.’
‘I was on a story,’ he’d said. ‘And I’ve to get up in two hours.’
‘But I want to tell you how we laughed at Paddy.’
‘Tell me another time.’
Now, according to the alarm clock, it was ten past nine. I was alone in the bed. Damien must have gone to work.
I picked up the phone just to stop the horrible frenzied shrieking. My nerves were all ajangle. Last night’s adrenaline and alcohol had worn off and I was once again enmeshed in the all-consuming fear of Damien finding out about Paddy.
Tentatively I said, ‘Hello.’
It was Marnie. ‘I’m in Dublin airport, I’m just about to get on a flight.’
So early?
‘I meant what I said last night: I won’t tell Damien about you and Paddy.’
‘… Thank you.’ I should have been thrilled but her tone was dispiritingly hostile.
‘And stop coming to London every weekend. I don’t want to see you.’
I was stricken. I needed to keep visiting her. So many dangerous, possibly even fatal, things could happen while she was drunk and there really was no one else to check on her.
And God only knew how she felt in the wake of this de Courcy business. Last night some of the other girls blossomed visibly as Paddy became reduced in their eyes. Lola the stylist, in particular. It was as ifshe’d shrugged off her fear of de Courcy and she was suddenly standing fully upright.
But there were no high spirits and group bonding from Marnie. In the triumphant al fresco debriefing for Dee she’d stayed on the edge of the group, then she didn’t come for a drink – cunningly she’d pretended she was, she’d got into the car with Zara and Selma but by the time they arrived at Dee’s house, Marnie had jumped ship.
I didn’t know what Marnie thought of Paddy now – I just couldn’t call it, but I suspected it was one of two extremes. Either she’d realized that she and Paddy had been nothing but a teenage thing. Or else she was still holding on to the Love of Her Life theory. Either way, I suspected her way of dealing with it would be to drink a lot.
‘Stay away from me,’ she said, then she hung up.
I had to confess to Damien. The thought of it was so frightening I whimpered into my pillow, but it was the right thing to do.
But a cowardly little voice whispered, What if there’s no need to tell him? What ifde Courcy had no plans to drop me in it? What ifI went ahead and told all to Damien when it wasn’t necessary?
So maybe I shouldn’t tell him.
But could I live with the guilt? Its cumbersome presence had kept us knocked off balance since last summer.
Maybe I should just square my shoulders and bite the bullet and tell him.
Christ…
Lola
Saturday, 24 January 10.06
Driving to Knockavoy. Planned to pack up and return to Dublin.
Suddenly keen to just get it done.
Much to think about as I drove.
Discovered was glad had made trip to Dublin. Not glad after first night of Paddy confrontation, of course. When he had said, ‘Who’s going to believe that fashion flake with the purple hair?’ I was aghast.
Had seen the light – I had just been little doll to have kinky sex with. Like I was less than a person. Bad, burny feeling. How had I let self be treated so badly?
Had always thought because he loved his dead mother that he was sensitive man. But, as drove along, realized he was sensitive man. But also unpleasant man. People can have many aspects.
Handy thing to know.
But second night, with Zara and Selma and much mockery of Paddy, was liberation. He no longer seemed so scary. Or – interesting this – so good-looking. Bouffiness of hair a bad business.
Also, knowing he had hurt other women was helpful. Wouldn’t wish it on worst enemy (technically Sybil O’Sullivan even if couldn’t remember why we had fallen out) but no longer felt like it was my fault. He was first – and would be last – man who hit me. He, however, had form. So whose fault was it? Yes, his.
He had got me at vulnerable time in life: best friends all coupled-up; mother deceased; no father figure. I’d been bit like Paddy, actually – but at least I didn’t go round punching people in fizzog.
12.29
Arrived Knockavoy
Two seconds after parked car, Considine’s door opened. I legged it across grass and into his house.
‘Tea?’ he asked.
‘Yes, yes. Okay, you ready to hear everything?’
Had texted him bare outline, but had given no details.
He said, ‘Ready? Am so keen to hear didn’t even go potholing today.’
Sacrifice.
‘Have been listening for your car for last three hours.’
‘Like lonely rural person?’
‘Just like lonely rural person!’
Same wavelength.
‘In fairness, must warn you, Considine, I did not cover self in glory. At no point did I swagger in front of Paddy and say, “Hah! Once upon time was mad about you but now see you as bouffy-haired brute that you really are!” ’
‘That is shame,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Missed opportunity. But surely you said, “I have moved on with my life”? No? No.’ He nodded understandingly. ‘Too Hollyoaks?’
‘Exactly, Considine! Too Hollyoaks is exactly what it is!’
‘Even though you have moved on.’
‘Yes, but no one should say it.’
‘Saying it makes you sound like you not moved on,’ he said. ‘Paradox.’
‘Yes, indeed, Considine, paradox. Okay, from start to finish, here is whole story.’
Related it all. Even the unpalatable details. ‘First night I said almost nothing to him and my knees wouldn’t stop shaking. However, second night, different story.’ Bragging slightly. ‘Made him eat own words about purple hair! “Molichino,” I said. Made him repeat it!’
‘Best thing you could have done, taking him on,’ Considine concluded. ‘Will stand to you, no doubt about it. You not terrified of bumping into him when back in Dublin?’
‘No.’ On other hand was not relishing thought of it either, but why dwell on negative?
Sunday, 25 January
Packed everything. Tidied house. Said my farewells to everyon
e in town. Must admit, very choked. Had arrived five months earlier, a wreck. Now returning to old life, not exactly as good as new, because would never be the same as was before I met Paddy, but in reasonable enough nick.
Considine came to help carry bags into car. Didn’t take long.
‘Everything in?’ He smacked the boot.
‘Yep!’ I slapped the back window. ‘Everything in.’
Both of us being over-jovial and manly, our hands hanging conspicuously by our sides as if they had suddenly swollen to ten times their normal size.
‘Will you be back?’ he asked.
‘Yes, probably, some weekend, for hen night maybe.’
He nodded awkwardly. We both swung our abnormally noticeable hands.
After silence, I said, ‘Thank you, you have been kindly to me in my time here. Sharing your telly. Advising me on de Courcy.’
He nodded again. ‘You have been kindly to me also. Trannie evenings. Loan of plunger. Badger’s arse night.’
More silence, then I asked, ‘You ever come to Dublin for your eco-swot job?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. You ever come to Dublin to visit friends?’
‘No.’
‘Oh?’
‘Have no friends in Dublin.’
‘Surely I am your friend?’ said stoutly. ‘And I live in Dublin.’
‘In that case might visit you.’
‘Good. We will get rough as badger’s arse.’
‘Will look forward to it. Goodbye, Lola.’
Looked at him. Dark eyes. Messy hair. And God, you know something…
Took step towards him, he took step towards me, I tilted my face up to him, he grasped me with hand around lower back and held his mouth against mine, lips touching lips. For few seconds stayed like that, without moving, like movie kiss. Quivered – both of us – actually quivered with want – felt it in him, felt it in me – before melting into each other. Slow, sensual, knee-weakening. Rossa Considine extremely sexy kisser.
18.44
My flat in Dublin
Welcomed home by Bridie, Barry, Treese and Jem.
‘Said goodbye to all your Knockavoy pals?’ Bridie asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Sad?’
