Jumping in Puddles

by Claire Allan

  “Boys’ night out, is it? Why weren’t we invited?” Paul asked, with mock indignation.

  “Not quite. I’m taking a few family groups – you know, some of the kids from the village?”

  “Oh aye, are you taking that Ruth one? You could get one back on Laura. Ruth’s a fine woman.”

  Liam had coloured, unsure how to respond. He didn’t really want to try and explain to the lads that he was just going for Poppy’s sake and that the rest of the village’s lone parents were going as well. They thought he was turning into enough of a woman as it was without him admitting he was going to a support group. The slagging would be unbelievable.

  “Ach well, you never know,” he answered with a laugh. Best to say nothing – there was no way he was going to admit that he still had feelings for Laura or that he was hoping her few days away with James and his three children would make her realise just what she was missing with him. Not that he thought Ruth’s children would be a nightmare – but just that a taste of family life again would help her to realise that her own family was worth fighting for. Perhaps that was what annoyed him most about her walking out – how could she not have felt the same desire as he did to fight for what they had?

  When he knew she was leaving he had, he was ashamed to say, broken down in tears and sobbed before her. He had gone to her office and asked her to come back. He had even encouraged Poppy to write her mother a letter begging her to come home. He was ashamed of that – when he should have been assuring his daughter that everything was going to be okay, he was embroiling her in his own hurt. That was probably why he spoiled her so much these days – he wanted to make up for that, albeit temporary, blip in his judgement and parenting skills.

  “Ah go on!” Paul had said, “You might as well give her a go!”

  Liam laughed, but inwardly cringed. He hoped his staff would know better than to talk like that when his daughter arrived.

  * * *

  Poppy had switched on the computer and made herself at home as soon as she walked into the office. She loved it here – she would sit and have little daydreams about being a grown-up office girl herself. Liam would be tortured with requests for “work” to do. She would saunter to and from his desk with little sheaves of paper for him to sign and mark.

  She would also offer to make loads of tea and coffee for anyone who so much as looked as if they had a bit of a thirst on them. Of course, being Hallowe’en and her being in her Dorothy mode, she insisted on doing everything in a pseudo-American accent.

  “Daddy, can you pretend to be the All Powerful Oz?” she asked, skipping towards him in her ruby slippers (which Liam had conceded she could wear until it was proper costume time), and he had dutifully donned his scariest and loudest voice as he demanded not one but two Rich Tea with his morning cuppa.

  He was just demanding she sit down and do some work, all with his tongue in cheek of course, when Detta walked into the office and burst out laughing.

  “Aah, the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz, I presume?” she laughed.

  He blushed. Damn it, this was almost as embarrassing as one of his builders catching him at his playacting, but then again at least Detta knew what he was at and didn’t think he was just being an unbearable arse to his daughter.

  “And so you must be Glenda the Good Witch then?” he said.

  “Or maybe the Wicked Witch? You never know!” she said with a grin. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was flirting.

  But of course, she couldn’t be . . . could she?

  “Do you want some coffee, Mrs O’Neill?” Poppy asked in her American accent.

  “Now, Dorothy, you are to call me Detta because we are friends, but I don’t really have time for a coffee.” She winked. “I’m trying to get a few little surprises arranged for later.”

  Liam’s heart warmed as he saw Poppy’s face light up.

  “Surprises? Really?”

  “Of course really,” Detta said. “But I can’t tell you because then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Liam smiled, enjoying the scene that was being played out before him, but then he realised that none of this explained exactly what Detta was doing in the builder’s yard.

  “So what can I do for you, Detta?” he asked, just remembering to drop the Great Oz voice and speak in the God-given Donegal drawl he was born with.

  “I was just dropping the keys for the bus over. Since you have so kindly agreed to drive tonight and save me the bother, I thought I’d give you the chance to give the old girl a test drive first. She can take a bit of getting used to.”

  “I’ve driven a forklift in the pouring rain, so I’m thinking this should be okay in comparison,” he smiled. “But we’ll give it a wee go anyway.”

  “Grand, sure we’ll see you around six. I want to get up in plenty of time to enjoy the craic before the fireworks.”

  By this stage Poppy was almost jumping up and down with excitement. “I can’t wait, I really can’t!”

  “It won’t be long, Poppy. Now I’ll leave you two to get back to work and I’ll see you later for some fun and games.”

  As Detta left, Paul walked in and winked at Liam. Willing him not to make any inappropriate comments, Liam put his head down and got on with his work.

  “Was that Detta O’Neill?” Paul asked.

  “Oh yes,” Poppy replied. “She’s coming with me and Daddy to Derry tonight to see the fireworks.”

  “Is she now indeed?” Paul asked with a smirk. “You’re a dark horse, Liam Dougherty. You’ll be getting yourself a reputation. Detta’s an even finer woman than Ruth.”

  Willing Poppy to keep quiet, Liam turned his attention back to work, while doodling on a piece of paper:

  Reasons why I want to jump off a cliff:

  * The boys think I’m the frigging village Lothario.

  * Chance would be a fecking fine thing.

  * Do I really have to keep pretending to be the Big Fecking Oz for the rest of the day?

  23

  Ciara dressed Ella in her costume while Lorraine watched, the smile of a proud granny plastered on her face. Ciara had been able to pick up a little bumblebee costume in the Post Office as recommended and she couldn’t help but grin to see her wee woman crawl along the floor with her big padded bumblebee bum in the air. She was convinced Lorraine must have used up every square inch of memory on her camera snapping pictures.

  “She’s as cute as cute can be,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

  Things between Ciara and Lorraine had been better in the last three days than they had been in years. They had opened up, talking and laughing, though Ciara still had to do her best to make sure her mother didn’t track Ben down and make sure he never got any other girl pregnant ever again. Lorraine had even slipped a ten-pound note into Ciara’s hand as she got ready to go out that night.

  Lifting her own camera, Ciara smiled and took a few shots, before lifting her daughter to her for a big cuddle. She looked pretty okay herself, she thought, as she smoothed down the white dress she had found in the charity shop and admired the fairy wings she’d also found in the Post Office. Thank God for wee country post offices and their array of bizarre extras. In Rathinch you could buy everything from a postage stamp to a mop and bucket.

  Ciara was delighted to still be in possession of a drawerful of sparkly eyeshadows and lip-glosses, even though her chances to wear them now were few and far between. She had gone to town tonight, painting her face like every ounce the good fairy she wanted to be. She even popped a plastic tiara on her head for good measure.

  Smiling, she packed a few extra nappies into the overnight bag, slipped her coat on and strapped Ella into her buggy. Then they headed out and up the road to Ruth’s house, Lorraine waving them off enthusiastically at the door.

  Although it was already starting to get dark and there was a distinct nip in the air, Ciara breathed in and smiled. She was actually going out! Sure it wasn’t to a club or a bar or even to Abby’s house
for a bit of craic, but she was going out to do something with friends and she was looking forward to it.

  She was sure that Poppy Dougherty would help her look after Ella and the twins would also be great company for her daughter so while she was going to be still on mammy duty, she knew she would also be able to let her newly glittered hair down just that little bit.

  “It’s going to be fun, isn’t it Ella-Bella?” she cooed just as the baby decided to throw her blanket from the buggy onto the ground. “Oh, you little tinker, let me get that for you!” Ciara smiled, moving to the front of the buggy to wrap her daughter back up in her blanket.

  As she kissed her gorgeous pudgy cheeks, now red from the cold, she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

  “Ciara,” he said and she felt herself freeze.

  She couldn’t deal with this and with him now. She wanted to just get to Ruth’s and get on with her night out – no matter how uncool any of her school pals would have thought it.

  “Ben,” she said, as casually as her nerves would allow.

  “You all right?” he asked with a sniff, scuffing his feet together.

  “Fine,” she sniffed back.

  “The baby looks cool in that costume,” he offered.

  Feeling strangely protective of her daughter – even though she had made her look a complete eejit by dressing her up like a bumblebee – Ciara put her back to her, covering her from Ben’s gaze.

  “Yes, she does,” Ciara answered, hoping that if she kept her answers brief and to the point, Ben would soon get bored and walk on.

  “You look . . . interesting, yourself,” he said with a little sneer.

  Ciara felt tears threaten to choke her. Switch on your inner voice, she told herself, but somehow when it came to Ben Quinn she could never even think of clever putdowns and harsh words. He brought out the very worst in her.

  Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so cool and trendy any more. Her costume, which she had been so proud of, now seemed cheap and tacky. Funny that, how Ben could make her feel cheap and tacky.

  “I have to go, I’m meeting people. Have a good Hallowe’en and I’ll see you later,” she said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. She wanted to say more. She wanted to do more – to kick him square in the gonads if the truth be told – but she thought keeping her cool was good enough.

  “Not if I see you first,” he said in a cocky tone of voice that almost, just almost, gave her the strength to tell him to feck off. He turned to walk away and she waited until he was a safe distance away before giving him the finger.

  As she looked at Ella, her gorgeous daughter looked back at her with a look of confusion.

  “That,” Ciara said, “was a very, very bad man. Well, he’s more of a boy, but he’s bad whatever he is.” She took the plastic tiara from her head and threw it into the hood of the buggy before pushing on up the hill.

  Ben had been one of the in-crowd at school. Well, technically he was still one of the in-crowd. It was Ciara who had been pushed to the sidelines. She wasn’t part of any crowd now – apart from the gang of saddo lone parents who were mostly all old enough to be her own parents. She supposed she had never really fitted in with the in-crowd, not coming from a home where the latest designer trainers or money for bowling or the cinema was easy to come by. But she had held her own and had been proud of how she had been accepted into Ben Quinn’s clique.

  She had thought she loved him, although she could now freely admit that what she thought was love was largely based on the songs of Westlife and X Factor winners. It was all about hearts and flowers for her and when Ben started leaving romantic notes in her locker and texting her in the middle of the night she had felt her heart swell with emotion.

  He told her she was beautiful and he wanted to hold her hand. She loved the feeling of her hand in his. He might have been only fifteen but his hand was as manly as any she had seen. He even had downy hair on his knuckles. She thought that was so rugged and, if she was honest, damn sexy too. Her heart would flutter when she saw him walking down the corridors at school and when he turned and smiled at her in class, double maths just didn’t seem so dull and uninteresting any more.

  Ben told her she was funny and evidently he also thought she was hot enough to kiss which was a plus. After all she didn’t have the Wonderbras of some of the other girls or the confidence to match. He liked her as she was and that was about as good as it got.

  After that night – that first kiss – Ciara had walked home with a smile on her face. When she got home Lorraine had been sitting over a cup of coffee and a cigarette in the kitchen. Ciara had sat down beside her and rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, sighing contentedly.

  “You look happy,” her mother had smiled.

  “I am, Mum,” Ciara said, getting up to switch the kettle back on to make herself a cup of tea. She liked the smell of coffee, but she couldn’t bring herself to drink it.

  “There are biscuits in the cupboard,” Lorraine said, sitting back and watching her daughter at work. “So what has you smiling? Is there a boy I should know about?”

  Ciara poured the milk into her mug and sat down. “It’s nothing really. Just a lad at school. He thinks I’m funny.”

  “Of course you’re funny, darling,” Lorraine had said with genuine warmth. “A funny wee woman. You’ve always made me laugh.”

  Of course if Ciara had known then what she knew now she would have run away from him screaming, but it felt too nice and she stayed with him until she got in as deep as she possibly could. And then it was him, and not her, who had run away screaming.

  Arriving at Ruth’s house, Ciara put all notions of her encounter with Ben out of her head. Thankfully there was plenty to distract her.

  Ruth fell on Ella as if she was the only baby she had ever held in her life.

  “Oh my God, would you look at this? Did you ever see anything as cute in your life? Oooh, you could sting me any time, wee bumble bee!” she cooed and was met with a milky burp for her troubles.

  “I have a wee cloth here,” Ciara offered, reaching into her bag.

  “Nonsense, a bit of baby sick never did anyone any harm. I’m one of the weird freaks who doesn’t mind at all, wee pet that she is!”

  Ciara smiled, relaxed that she wasn’t being made to feel her child was a burden or a pain in the rear. “Good, because this one knows how to boke with the best of them.”

  “My Matthew was the same,” Ruth soothed. “But you know, it’s true. They really do grow up in a blink of an eye.”

  “I quite like the sound of that,” Ciara said. “Fast forward a couple of years until she is old enough to change her own nappy. It would work for me.”

  “She’s a dote,” Ruth smiled.

  Ciara rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you wouldn’t be saying that at three in the morning. I think that sleeping-through nonsense is a myth.” Fighting the urge to yawn at the very thought of her interrupted nights’ sleep Ciara sat down, while Ruth continued to fuss over Ella.

  “I like your costume too,” Ruth said, sitting down across the living room from her. Instinctively Ciara pulled her coat closer to her.

  “Jesus, wee girl, if I had your figure I wouldn’t be covering it up for anyone,” Ruth said with a smile.

  Of course Ciara could hardly tell her that it was her run-in with Ben – the object of Eimear’s affections – that had brought about her new-found shyness.

  “You know, you’re right,” she said with a smile, standing up to take off her coat before reaching for the tiara from Ella’s pram and perching it back on her head. As her daughter giggled and cooed, she spun around.

  “Oooooh,” a little voice squeaked. “It’s Glenda the Good Witch. Hello, I’m Dorothy.”

  Ciara turned around to see Poppy, complete with plaits in her hair and a small wicker basket, standing clicking her ruby heels together.

  “So you are,” she said, “and I think this wee one of my mine could be the perfect Munchkin.”

 
“Well,” Poppy said solemnly, “Munchkins don’t normally dress like bumblebees but we can pretend.”

  “Of course we can. Now let’s sing ‘Follow the Yellow Brick Road’,” Ciara said, instantly warming to the precocious young girl in front of her who reminded her of just how she had been not so long ago.

  “You’re very good to amuse her, Ciara,” Liam said, following his daughter into the living room.

  “I’m sure she’s no trouble,” Ciara said, dancing from one foot to the next while her own daughter clapped along very much out of rhythm. If truth be told she was enjoying having the chance to act like a complete eejit without anyone thinking badly of her.

  “Why don’t you all join in?” she asked, feeling as if the weight of her worry was at once gone.

  “I’m not really one for dancing,” Liam said awkwardly.

  “You’re obviously not really one for dressing up either,” Ruth said with a grin.

  “Sure you’re not dressed up yourself, woman,” he answered.

  “Just give me a minute, I will be,” she said, running upstairs.

  A warm feeling spreading through her, Ciara wondered for a moment what it would be like if Liam and Ruth were her parents and this was what life was always like. Without the costumes, obviously.

  24

  Niamh had spent the day in a state of utter confusion. She decided one minute to go to Derry with the others, and the next to stay at home in front of a scary movie with yet another glass of wine.