Erotic Refugees

by Paddy Kelly

  “What about Karen?” Eoin said, fishing for the reason behind Rob's furtiveness. “Isn't she coming here soon?”

  Rob rolled a lit cigarette between finger and thumb, saying nothing. After a while he nodded. “Right,” he said. “It's like this. Karen left Ireland a few days ago. She's on her way here, but she hasn't arrived. And nobody knows where she is.”

  “What?” Eoin said in alarm. “Are you serious? But you have to call the police, you have to tell—”

  “No, wait, she's fine, that's the thing, I've been mailing her. She's all alive and well. I just don't know where she’s alive and well.”

  “Well you could just ask her!”

  “Oh that never occurred to me.” He made a face and slapped his forehead a few times. “Stupid Rob, no thinky that. Course I bloody well asked her! But she just keeps sayin' she'll tell when she's ready. So in the meantime I have to lie to the mother and pretend she's in Stockholm while she's really swannin' around somewhere else, with some unspecified sorts.”

  Eoin chewed thoughtfully. “It can't be that hard to find out, can it? I mean, her mobile number should give it away—”

  “Same one she had in Ireland. No help.”

  “Okay,” Eoin said. “Then how about the IP information on her mails?”

  “Nope, she’s using some proxy service to hide it. I suppose I can do like in the films and record a telephone call and scan it for church bells and boat horns and stuff.”

  “You know, that's not a terrible idea.”

  Rob stared. “Jaysus Eoin, I was only joking.”

  “No seriously, why not? Maybe we'll be able to hear people talking in the background and pick up the language. Or some noise specific to a place. Even if we don't, it would still be fun to try.”

  Rob nodded. “Fine then, let's give it a shot. Can't be any worse that doin' nothing, which is all I have as plan B at this stage.”

  Eoin tried to look supportive although he was really thinking about his to-do list and how it had just become even longer. What with the Internet project, and finding Karen, and dumping Anja, and reconnecting with Alice, and getting himself in with Maria, he'd need a leave of absence to get through everything on time.

  “And did I tell ye,” Rob said, “about the party on Friday? Eamonn's thirtieth and he's invited everyone he knows. And I was surprised but turns out he knows loads of nice women, the scrawny git. Ye'll have to come along!”

  “Can't,” Eoin said reflexively. “I have Damien—”

  “Well get a babysitter, this'll be a great bash!”

  Eoin's face hardened. “No, I don't have any babysitters. Well Alice, maybe, but not right now.”

  “What, no babysitters? And what if something happens when ye have the kid?”

  “Well then I just don't go,” Eoin said. He could imagine the grief he would have to take from Jenny if she discovered that some strange person, meaning a person she didn't know and approve of, had been put in charge of her son.

  “Oh jaysus Eoin quit being a bloody victim, will ye? Just get a babysitter and come to the party. Hoy Milly!”

  Milly and Damien were scrambling out from the slide after another run, still laughing. She glanced over, shielding her eyes with a hand.

  “What? Is it time for brandy and cigars?”

  “You want to baby-sit for Damien on Friday?”

  Eoin grabbed Rob's arm and hissed in his ear. “Damn it Rob, don't—”

  “Friday?” Milly said, packing a stray dreadlock back into the bungee. “Yeah I could probably do that. Just not too late.”

  Rob turned and patted Eoin on the shoulder. “There ye are Cinderella, off to the ball! Ye can thank me later.”

  Eoin made no comment. His mind was swirling with what-if and how-about and think-only, but mostly with what-would-Jenny-say. But then again, he was an adult and he was Damien's father so of course he could arrange a babysitter without having to receive clearance from the kid's mother. She'd hit the ceiling if she found out, but maybe that might be a good thing. For all of them.

  Milly and Damien returned to the picnic blanket. Damien threw himself down on his back with an enormous sigh and stuck all four limbs out like a dog. Milly patted him on his stomach and got him giggling. “This little guy will be no problem. I'll call you later for the details, okay?”

  “Thanks,” Eoin said. “I'm not sure how to pay you back—”

  “It's no problem, just owe me a favour.” She nudged Rob. “You can add it to the pile.”

  “Shhh,” Rob said. He turned to Eoin and smiled innocently. “Don't mind her, just think about the party.”

  Eoin studied them. “Look, what are you two up to—”

  “Boom,” Damien said. He sat up and pointed at the sky behind them. They all turned and saw, moving in over the city, a great slab of grey and black cloud. The taller buildings darkened as they fell under its shadow, and they felt the air turn chilly even though they were still sitting in direct sunlight.

  “That looks a tad … unfriendly,” Rob said. “Anybody check the weather today?”

  “Mmm,” Milly said. “In the paper. Lots of fat grey clouds like the ones that usually cover an alien mother-ship. Not supposed to turn nasty until tonight though.”

  “Well it’s only a bit of rain,” Rob said. “And as you Swedes keep tellin' me there’s no bad weather, is there? Only bad clothes.”

  “I never really got that saying either,” Eoin said. “I mean, a warm jacket's no good in a blizzard, is it?”

  “Well you two can stand around getting soaked in your excellent clothes if you want,” Milly said. “But I’m out of here.”

  “Agreed,” Eoin said and got busy stuffing rubbish into a plastic bag. The others helped out, working fast, but the dark shadow overtook them as they were rolling up the picnic blanket. Damien said “Yay!” and started jumping when he felt the first raindrops on his face.

  They put their heads down and got moving but the rain was faster. In the time it took them to reach the buildings on the other side of the park, heavy drops were pummelling their heads. They slipped in under a balcony and watched as it came down, an almost vertical sheet of water. It was joined by streams running off the balconies overhead and it soon felt like they were standing behind a waterfall.

  Rob lit a cigarette, pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

  “And there, my friends, goes the bloody summer. Now only ten months to wait till the next one!”

  Chapter 22

  On Friday evening the rain was still pelting down. It had stopped for a few hours in the afternoon and given the impression that after two days it had made its point. No such luck though, and now sheets of water were again flooding the gutters of Södermalm. It was as if the summer had never happened at all.

  Rob slid onto the seat of the subway train, ruffled his damp hair and jammed his sodden umbrella into the crack between the seats. “Bloody hell Eoin, what did we do to deserve that weather? Brutal. The little fella was okay with the babysitter then?”

  Eoin shrugged as the train pulled out with a wet squeak of metal and passed into the tunnel on its way south. “Seemed to be fine. Milly brought a big bag of Lego, from her own private stash, she said. Then they got down to building. He didn't really notice when I left, just gave a wave.”

  “And that's how it should be! Parents are boring old sods, babysitters are all excitin' and girly-smelling, aren't they?”

  Eoin gave another half-hearted shrug. He looked, Rob decided, less than convinced. The daft bugger was probably feeling guilty again. Well, he'd have to make sure Eoin had fun at this party. That would be his role for the evening. The sour man from Dundalk would enjoy himself, or else.

  “So,” he said. “Let me tell ye about Karen. I mailed her with the new idea for the website, and since she hadn't done a great deal on the old one she didn't really care about the change. So she's on it. Plus I tried to reason with her about telling me where she was, but she said she'd tell
me like, in a week or two, as long as I promised not to tell the mother. She's terrified of the mother findin' out.”

  “But couldn't you lie better if you knew exactly where she was?”

  “Yeah probably, but it's delicate. She probably thinks I'd go there and fetch her if I knew. I can't push her too hard to tell me either because we want her to do the work on the site. But if she falls under a train then I'm really in the soup and the mother will have my balls. The mother probably has a whole box of balls somewhere, ripped from various men at different times, ye know? And anyway I can't really be arsed lying about something for that long, it's bad for the health. Jaysus, I hope we get there soon, I could murder a fag right now.”

  Their train ground to a halt and they watched as people in mostly black jackets shoved their way through the doors, moving past a very similar crowd who were pushing their way out. They all looked like they were in shock, having their well-deserved summer pulled so cruelly out from under them. Rob knew how they felt. If he’d wanted rain and chill and dark in July he could have just stayed in Ireland.

  “So,” Eoin said, brightening up a little, “the phone call thing. Have you worked out how to do it?”

  “It’s hardly rocket science, is it? I’ll just call her mobile from Skype and record it. Then we listen to it and see what we can find out.”

  “Fair enough. We'll have to try and call her when she's out so we get some background sounds. Think you can keep her talking?”

  The train pulled out and they rumbled on towards their destination.

  “Oh don't worry about that, if there's one thing I know I'm good at, it's talking a whole load of rubbish and getting people to listen to it. If that's all we need, me talkin' shite for an extended period, then we've as good as found her already.”

  Eamonn's flat was located on the fourth floor of a slightly shabby building in a slightly dodgy suburb. Eamonn let them in and Rob couldn’t help laughing when he saw the birthday boy had been kitted out in a crisp white shirt and a paisley waistcoat for the occasion. The purple didn't go too well with his red-setter hair, but Eamonn was far too cheery to care. He pumped the hands of the newcomers, pointed to where they could toss their coats, and waved a hand towards the kitchen.

  “It's all in there, just grab whatever's handy.”

  Rod nodded and handed over his last-second gift (a gift voucher from a sports shop) and dragged Eoin with him into the living room so they could have a good look around. There were about ten people in there, most of them sitting around the coffee table. The curtains were drawn and the lights were on, which was an attempt, Rob guessed, to prevent the weather outside from ruining the mood too much.

  The Swedes in the room all seemed a bit reserved but Rob knew after a few drinks they'd open up and start speaking English and turn into great and trusting friends. Then they'd be exactly as reserved the next time he saw them, as if the party had never happened at all. It was strange but it was Sweden and Rob was, by now, at least prepared for it.

  Andy was there too, his bald head shining in the lights as if he'd recently shaved it (or polished it). As soon as he spotted them he strolled over and pumped first Eoin's hand and then Rob's.

  “So,” he said. “I heard your project went south. Someone beat you to it?”

  “Yeah, well good ideas swirl around until some bollix grabs 'em, and this time it was some other bollix than us. But plans are still afoot.”

  “Another brilliant scheme? And why not indeed. Well gentlemen, allow me to show you to the food and refreshments. This way.”

  They followed Andy to the kitchen where they were presented with paper plates and a variety of food to pile upon them. Rob wasted no time in familiarising himself with the comestibles on offer, stuffing an item into his mouth for every item that went on his plate.

  “This is some spread,” he said, speaking through a mouthful of cocktail sausage. “Who fixed it?”

  “Eamonn's workmates, I believe,” Andy said. “I wasn't expecting this level of catering, given that Eamonn usually seems to subsist on beer and other people's peanuts.” He took a sip from his wine and wiped away the glistening red drops that remained on his moustache. “Look, I was in the middle of a conversation with a nice lady out there and I should get some closure on that. See you in a bit.”

  Rob and Eoin finished filling their plates and made their way back to the living room. They found a nice corner to stand in, from where they could watch the room and its inhabitants. Rob chewed as he scanned the females, wondering if any of them might be something for him or, failing that, something for Eoin. He glanced at Eoin, who was all frowny, obviously still worrying about his kid. Oh all right then, he'd give Eoin first crack, it was only fair. He'd probably fail anyway, and then Rob could sweep them up with a clear conscience.

  “Right Eoin, down to work. That one”—he pointed with a cocktail stick topped by a chunk of cheese—“is Oskar from the bandy team's bird, so off-bounds there. That one beside her with the bright red lips and the black hair I've seen before, but I don't remember who she is. So I'm guessing, a friend of Oskar's bird? Andy's looks like he's into her, though, so skip that one for the moment. And the other ones”—he gestured at the three remaining females in the room—“are wild cards, an unknown quantity, and the place to start. So who's catchin' yer eye?”

  Eoin looked uncomfortable as he nibbled a chicken wing. “I'm not sure I'm going to make an effort tonight. With the women, I mean—”

  “What?” Rob said, as if Eoin had announced he was going to get his nipples pierced, or possibly removed entirely. “Why the hell not? It's a party—”

  “Well actually I'm kind of seeing somebody.”

  Rob gaped. “Yer what? Seein' somebody? What, like a girlfriend?”

  “No, it's not a girlfriend, just, well, sometimes—”

  “Eoin,” Rob said sternly, “just fuckin' tell me or I'll have to slap it out of ye. Who is it?”

  “It's Anja.”

  “Anja,” Rob said, as his mental cogs spun. “Anja … Oh right, the one from the park? The friend of what's-her-name? So yer fuckin' her? All this time, just fuckin' away?” He delivered a cheery punch to Eoin's shoulder. “Fair play Eoin! How long's that been goin' on then?”

  Eoin looked around, clearly a bit embarrassed about the whole thing. “A couple of weeks. Since, well, the first date.”

  “You fucked her on the first date?” He rubbed an imaginary pointy beard as he studied Eoin. “Well now, Mr. Kelliher—”

  “Who's fucking who?” Andy said, appearing next to Eoin. He was holding a paper plate piled high with chicken wings and wearing a look of innocent curiosity. Rob glanced over to where Andy had been standing previously, and at where he was standing now, and considered the distance between those two locations.

  “What, could ye hear that from way over there? Over the music and everything?”

  “No man, I read lips. Well, not really, but I can sure as hell pick up the word 'fucking' from a mile off. So, once again, who is fucking whom?”

  Rob, although bursting to divulge the news, realised that he couldn't since it wasn't his news to be divulging. He nodded to Eoin in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. Eoin sighed and related how he'd accidentally charmed Anja into his bed while trying to scare her off.

  “But,” he added, “I'm not sure I want to go on doing it—”

  “Why?” Andy said. He leaned in closer. “Is she hideously flawed in some unforgivable way? It's okay, tell me, I can take it. Is she?”

  “No, no, it just doesn't feel right—”

  “Wait, ye don't want to be shaggin' her?” Rob was afloat in a sea of confusion. “But why not?”

  “Because I'm not into her,” Eoin said desperately. “I'm into her friend, and if I want to get her friend, I can't very well be screwing her, can I? And anyway, if I stop seeing her now, then she'll—”

  “Whoa there big boy,” Andy said, raising a hand. “I get it now, I see your conundrum. But think, even if y
ou do drop this girl, what's to say the other one is worth it? You don't even know if she's interested. A bird in the hand is worth two on the web. Say, that's not a bad phrase, I should put it on my dating profile.”

  “Well,” Eoin said, “I do have some idea that she likes me.” He plucked a piece of fruit from his punch glass and munched on it. “I've been mailing her from a fake account on Diamond Date—”

  “Sweet!” Andy said. “Somebody’s been listening to my advice, who would have thought that? However, let me warn you Eoin, this is a very tricky game, the ghost profile manoeuvre. And it's not actually meant to be used to charm a girl, you do know that? It's just used to spy on people, or to irritate then hugely.”

  Rob was watching this exchange with a tingle of amazement. He had never suspected these depths of intrigue in Eoin and felt suddenly quite proud of him.

  “Well,” Andy went on, “either way, now you've now got this girl’s attention with your ghost account. So you need a plan to meet her in reality and break the news that you're not who you say you are. What's the cover? Crippling shyness? Plastic surgery? Evil twin?”

  Eoin waved a hand in irritation. “Look, I don't know, just ask me later about that, it's all too annoying right now. First I have to get myself away from Anja, that's step one.”

  “You could,” Rob said with a shrug, “just stop fucking her?”

  “Well of course, but how? I can't end up looking like a dick, because she will go tell Maria and then suddenly I'm officially a dick forever. I suppose I could just ignore her, be a bit of an arsehole, and hope she gets the hint. Of course, I tried that and she just ended up liking me more.”

  “Well then it's not that complicated,” Rob said. “If she likes arseholes then just show her the real Eoin and bore her to death!”