Michael had been in no trouble lately that anyone had heard of.
Kevin and Gemma announced that they were getting married in a year and a half’s time. When they had saved for a proper reception.
Molly was doing fewer shifts at the supermarket. She had had her veins injected and had been told to walk long distances every day. On one of her long walks she saw Laddy Hale with his arm around a pretty little blonde. Every few yards they stopped to kiss each other.
Molly didn’t intend to tell Star this news. The child was barely seventeen now and still hung around the small front garden of 24 Chestnut Street in the hopes of meeting the handsome boy next door.
Star had developed an interest in gardening so that she had an excuse to talk to Mr Hale about plants. He brought her nice winter pansies and ornamental cabbages, as well as little heathers and dwarf azaleas and a bag full of the right soil to plant them in.
Sometimes he gave her sweet-smelling plants like night-scented stock, which she planted for poor blind Miss Mack at number 3.
It was easy to talk to Mr Hale but he was quite hopeless if she tried to bring the conversation around to Laddy. He seemed to know nothing about his own son. Not a thing about what he was like as a child, or who his friends were, or if he missed his mother when she went away. Mr Hale just shrugged helplessly about it all.
‘And suppose she came back, you know, Laddy’s mother? Would you all like that?’
‘I don’t suppose Biddy would like it,’ he said, after some thought.
‘No, but I mean you and Laddy?’
‘Well, I don’t know, it would be interesting to know where she had been, what she was doing, I suppose. That’s all.’
‘But wouldn’t you have liked her to stay?’ Star persisted.
‘No one would want someone to stay if they wanted to be off somewhere else,’ he replied, as if that was obvious.
Star felt very foolish indeed.
She wished she had a friend, someone to talk to, but Rita, who had been her pal in a way at school, had gone to work as a travel rep in the Canary Islands, and Miss Casey was still in Spain with the man called Watches, and Nessa, who lived a few doors down Chestnut Street, was always busy and never had time to talk to Star. Miss Mack was so old that she wouldn’t be much help.
There was nobody at work, because all the other girls said she was mad not to fancy Kenny, who now ran not only the whole fish section, but a lot of the deli as well. He was going onwards and upwards and was real management material. Star was crazy to tell him that she didn’t really want to go out with him again in case it was leading him on.
Wouldn’t it be great to have someone you could talk to about everything? Isn’t that what everyone wanted? Or was it only in movies and magazines that people had those kind of friends? Someone who would sit and listen about Laddy, and tell her that he didn’t really care about the stream of young, barely dressed women who paraded in and out of number 23. A friend who would tell her that yes, OK, he might have been moving some stolen goods that night she had lied for him, but basically he wasn’t a criminal. And even though he did know someone who knew someone who had fixed a horse race, it didn’t mean that he moved with the underworld all the time.
A friend who would tell Star what to wear, how to act in a way that would make Laddy love her now, just like she loved him.
Her mother tried to be that friend but it was useless. Nobody confides properly in a mother. Molly had asked Star many times whether she was being sensible. She meant, was she using condoms or taking the pill. Star couldn’t explain that she had not had sex with Laddy, or indeed with anyone, because she had told everyone that she and Laddy had spent the night together in the single bed under the red rug. In fact Star almost believed that they had.
Lilly looked on Star with more respect these days, too. Normally she thought of Star as someone who didn’t tell tales about her hiding food. Lilly was well enough to work now, and she sold clothes in a smart boutique. Laddy next door had helped her get the job because he knew someone. He said she had great style, and that if she could eat a bit more to get some curves and a nice bottom she’d do great, and maybe even get discovered. The boutique owner asked Lilly to wear long-sleeved blouses so that nobody could see her thin, bony arms and the great sockets in her shoulders. All Lilly’s time at the clinic was helping her, and nobody had heard the sound of her vomiting in the night, not for a long time now, and she didn’t hide food all over the house as she once used to.
Michael had a job too. In a video shop where he worked very odd hours. Sometimes he was out all night. When asked about it, Michael just shrugged. A lot of people were shift workers, he said, and they needed to rent a couple of movies at any time of the day or night. No one else in the family thought it was odd, so Star said nothing. But she worried about Michael as she worried about everything. She couldn’t ask Laddy, as it would sound like just what she was, a nagging little sister.
Laddy didn’t seem to have anyone particular at the moment. Between girlfriends, maybe. But he wasn’t in the garden as much as he used to be. Star watered the Hales’ mixed borders as well as their own, and she did a little weeding as well. Laddy might not notice, but his father would and might praise her across the fence.
One afternoon, when she was working in the Hales’ garden, Star looked up at the house and saw Laddy pulling the curtains closed in the front bedroom. That was odd. She hadn’t seen him go in with any new girlfriend. And anyway he slept at the back of the house. As she looked she caught his eye. Quickly, Star lowered her eyes and finished weeding the flower bed. The curtains in Laddy’s father’s room were still drawn when she stood up and walked back home.
By the time Owen Hale came back from the garden centre, Biddy had gone off to her job at the bar. His son Laddy had driven off in a van to this or that. And his neighbour Star Sullivan was sitting on the little wooden seat, staring straight ahead. Not able to believe what she knew was true. Not wanting to think about it but unable to get it out of her mind.
Next day at the supermarket, one of the women customers suddenly broke down. She was about fifty. She started to cry and couldn’t stop. Then she began to hit out at things and knock them down from the shelves. All the time she was calling out: ‘No, Declan, no, don’t go away, Declan, stay with me and love me, Declan, like you used to.’ Over and over again.
People watched, shocked, and all of them powerless to do anything in the face of such grief. All except Star Sullivan who went over and guided the woman to a chair. Then she removed from her hand the folded umbrella that was doing all the damage and replaced it with a paper cup of very sweet tea. She knelt beside the woman who was still crying out in despair and spoke to her gently.
As people watched in disbelief, Star Sullivan murmured and soothed. ‘He’s not really gone away, he does love you, he only thinks he doesn’t. It will all be all right. It will all be fine. Sip your tea now. Slowly. He hasn’t gone away really, just for now . . .’
And Kenny, who ran the fish and deli counters, held the security men back, and told the other customers that the show was over. By the time he had got the staff nurse to the scene, Star had it all under control and had used the woman’s mobile phone to call one of her daughters.
As she meekly left the supermarket, the woman looked drained and empty, as if all the life had been sucked out of her.
Everyone congratulated Star.
‘I did nothing,’ Star said. ‘Nothing, except tell her lies.’
‘You stopped her breaking up the shop,’ Kenny said with admiration.
‘That’s not important,’ Star said. ‘Declan’s not coming back to her, is he? He doesn’t love her like he once did.’
‘Do you know them?’ Kenny asked.
‘No, I don’t, but you heard her, didn’t you, and you saw her daughter? She says that he’s not coming back.’
And from where she sat at the till Molly looked on and worried about her youngest child.
*
&nb
sp; That evening Owen Hale called in at number 24.
‘It’s Biddy’s birthday on Saturday. Don’t ask how old she is or she’ll go mad, but I thought we’d have a few people in for a barbecue in the afternoon, and you’re all very welcome.’
In the old days Shay Sullivan would have been busy choosing winners and standing in a booth at the bookies, watching all his money disappear. In the old days Molly would have been too tired to go out, Lilly would have been afraid to go anywhere where there might be food, Kevin wouldn’t have wanted to be in the same space as his father, and Michael would have said he hated neighbours and couldn’t be bothered.
But these were not the old days any more so the Sullivans said they would love to come. Star said nothing. Molly noticed, but knew better than to ask a direct question.
‘What will you wear, Star?’ she asked later.
‘Wear? When?’
‘To the barbecue next door, on Saturday,’ her mother said.
‘Oh, I’m not going. I’ve got a date that afternoon. With Kenny.’
‘You are? When did he ask you?’
‘I’m asking him. Tomorrow,’ Star said.
Kenny said that he would be delighted to go on a picnic with Star. He would bring a bottle of wine and some crab claws and a dipping sauce. He would pick her up at three, which was when the barbecue next door was due to start.
Star wore a blue cotton dress with a pattern of little white flowers. She had a big copper-coloured belt that matched her hair exactly. Even Lilly, not known for compliments, said she thought Star looked terrific.
‘He must be special, this Kenny,’ she said.
‘He’s a nice fellow,’ Star shrugged.
‘More than nice if you’re bringing him home to meet the family and missing a barbecue at Lovely Laddy’s place,’ Lilly said.
‘I’m not bringing him to meet the family. Mam knows him already from work.’
‘You can’t fool me,’ Lilly said.
Lilly said she was bringing a friend to the party. His name was Nick, he was a journalist, and no mention of Lilly’s time in hospital was to be mentioned by anyone, was that understood?
Gemma and Kevin would be there, and Michael had been spending the morning hammering and getting the barbecue pit ready.
Various neighbours from Chestnut Street were coming. Even Miss Mack was being helped across because she had said she loved sausages cooked in the open air better than any other food on earth. Mrs Ryan in number 14, who had an ‘understanding’ with the builder next door in number 15, had said she would come. Lillian, the hairdresser in number 5, wouldn’t be able to come because she was busy, but she had been over in the morning to invite Biddy for a free hairdo as a birthday present. Bucket Maguire, who cleaned windows and operated from number 11, gave the downstairs windows of the Hale household a quick shine and polish in honour of the day.
While Biddy was having her hair done, the men made a big sign and hung it out the window: Happy Birthday, Biddy.
Normally it would have been the kind of gathering that Star Sullivan would have loved with all her heart. The sight of neighbours getting together to celebrate a birthday. But this was not normal, far from it. She hadn’t been able to look at Laddy since she had seen him drawing the curtains that day. His own father’s girlfriend! The woman living in the same house as him, like his stepmother! It was disgusting. And even if Biddy was nearer to Laddy’s age than to Owen’s, that didn’t change anything.
When Kenny arrived, Shay Sullivan offered him a beer.
‘No, thank you, Mr Sullivan, I’m driving.’ Kenny was reliable, responsible.
Just then Laddy Hale, who had never been reliable or responsible in his life, came in to borrow a couple of chairs.
‘Hey, Star, don’t you look just gorgeous!’ he said.
‘Thank you, Laddy.’ Her voice was flat.
Laddy looked at Kenny. Just looked him up and down.
‘Hi, I’m Kenny.’ The smile was open and honest.
Laddy didn’t smile. ‘Sure you are,’ he said. ‘Kenny the Fish, isn’t it?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘And so you should beg my pardon, taking the attention of the best-looking girl in Chestnut Street.’
‘Let’s go now, Kenny,’ Star begged.
‘But you can’t go. The party hasn’t started yet. Come on, Kenny, use your influence with her, tell her she can’t leave now.’
Kenny looked helpless. ‘Well, if you’d like to stay for a bit, Star, we’re in no hurry. I didn’t know there was going to be a party to drag you away from.’
‘Star knew, she’s known for two weeks,’ Laddy said.
‘So what about –?’ Kenny began, eager to please, to be polite.
‘What about leaving now, Kenny?’ Star said, in a voice so unlike her usual tones that everyone looked up. And they went out to the car, carrying her picnic basket and looking just like a picture.
Laddy stood at the gate, holding the two chairs, and watched them drive off. Kenny could see him in the driving mirror, still watching.
‘That’s the boy next door, then,’ he said eventually.
‘Laddy Hale,’ Star said.
‘Yes, well, he didn’t introduce himself. Nice guy, is he?’
‘Not really.’ Star spoke slowly. ‘No, not a nice guy, unreliable as anything.’
‘But very keen on you,’ Kenny said.
Star laughed aloud. ‘If only you knew! Not keen on me at all. Hardly notices me in fact, but very keen on himself and the effect he has on people. That’s Laddy for you!’
‘Sorry to disagree with you, Star, but he hated seeing you come away with me. Hated it, I tell you.’
‘Good,’ said Star, pleased, and settled back in her seat.
CHAPTER SIX
THE PICNIC HAD SEEMED endless. Star thought that it would never be time to go home.
Kenny had been so nice. He asked nothing more about Laddy, instead he talked about the supermarket and how wonderful Star had been with the disturbed customer. Even the General Manager had heard, Kenny reported back. Much praise had been directed towards Miss Sullivan in bakery and confectionery. If Star wanted to move on within the supermarket, or to go on a training course, she would find the management very willing to say yes.
Kenny seemed to love the whole supermarket world and was always absorbed in all its comings and goings. Star was more interested in the woman who had had a breakdown. Her family had written to the supermarket, saying how grateful they were for the way it had all been handled.
‘That’s all down to you, Star,’ Kenny had said proudly, over and over.
He didn’t know where the woman lived or anything about the man Declan who didn’t love her any more. The woman’s daughters were in their thirties and well heeled, he said, they had offered compensation for the smashed goods but it had been refused. The supermarket had behaved well, everyone had behaved well. The poor woman was on some medication, he said, which she hadn’t taken that day. It wasn’t her fault. It was good to be in a situation where everyone had done the right thing.
‘Declan didn’t,’ Star said. ‘Declan promised that he would love her always, but he stopped loving her, that’s what it was all about.’
Kenny looked troubled by this. Star was reliving the woman’s agony too much. She should be glad that, thanks to her own quick thinking, it had all been tidied away.
He produced a folding table and two little chairs. He told her he had bought them at a staff discount in the leisure section of the supermarket when Star had first suggested a picnic. He had even brought a checked tablecloth and a little vase with one flower in it.
They ate their picnic meal together, the crab claws he had brought, the dainty tomato sandwiches and some little currant buns she had baked. They sipped their wine and drank the flask of coffee Star had made.
Kenny searched for more subjects to entertain her but she was miles away. Star tried to listen and be interested but they seemed to be talking round in c
ircles.
‘I hope your father likes me,’ he said suddenly.
‘Why wouldn’t he like you?’
‘Well, I hope to be coming round to 24 Chestnut Street quite often, taking his beautiful daughter out. It would be better if he liked me. You say he works in a hotel kitchen. Is he a chef?’
‘No, he’s just a helper really. He used to have a big gambling problem, you see, but he got over it.’
‘He must be a strong man, then.’
‘Not really, someone sort of helped him. Now he’s much more interested in the family, not the horses, so it’s a lot better.’
‘Does he like your sister’s boyfriend, do you think?’
‘Lilly? Oh, I don’t think that Nick is a boyfriend, I think he’s only a journalist,’ Star said.
Kenny laughed. ‘He could be both, you know, there isn’t a law against it.’
He looked so nice and normal when he laughed she felt a wave of anger that she couldn’t like him more.
‘You’re so good, Kenny,’ she said, laying her hand on his on the tablecloth. ‘You deserve someone much better than me.’
‘There is no one better than you,’ he said, and he meant it. ‘Star, you are the very, very best person I have ever met. I love being in your company, I just hope you like me, that’s all.’
‘I do like you, Kenny. It’s just that . . . it’s just that . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
‘It’s just that you are too young to get involved with anyone yet, is that it?’ His face was full of hope.
‘Not really,’ she began.
‘No, don’t say anything. I know. You are very young, but I’ll wait, Star, I won’t put pressure on you, I’ll look out for you at work, but I won’t nag at you to come out with me. I didn’t before, remember, it’s only that you suggested this picnic and I wondered . . . I hoped . . .’
Star said nothing.
‘I think you are wonderful,’ he said simply.
‘You don’t know. You don’t know anything.’
Star Sullivan Page 4
