Jumping in Puddles

by Claire Allan

  She walked out of the bar and stood by the river breathing in the night air. It was cold but the alcohol had warmed her bones so she didn’t really care. Liam and Detta had been chatting nicely as she left. It was nice, she thought, there was no awkwardness between them at all. They were just like old, very dear, friends. Wouldn’t it be a lovely success story for the group if they fell in love?

  She would buy a hat to wear to the wedding, she resolved. She’d never had a hat before – well, not one that wasn’t home-knitted or from the Aran shop in the village. She quite fancied something with feathers and beads.

  Maybe she could be bridesmaid and wear a tiara? Ah, now that would be just perfect.

  She was still smiling as she walked along the riverfront. She was glad that Detta had talked her into coming tonight. It would have been so easy to stay at home and hide. Admittedly the thick layer of make-up had helped, but she was starting to feel more confident now and if tonight was anything to go by, she had some chance of finally, finally starting to enjoy her life.

  If she wasn’t conscious of looking like a complete eejit she would have had a wee run and kicked her legs up with joy.

  She looked up and saw a male walker and his dog approach. “All right?” he smiled and she grinned.

  “I’m just fine,” she said, “Absolutely, bloody fine.”

  * * *

  “Do you think she’ll be okay out there on her own?” Liam asked, gesturing his head towards the glass doors. He could see Ruth standing staring into the river and was mildly concerned she was going to throw herself in.

  “She’s fine,” Detta said with a smile. “In fact, I’d go as far as to say she is more fine than we’ve seen her yet.”

  Liam looked out again. He had to admit she had been in good form that night. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. If he was honest he was half expecting to see her sitting pale, wan and bruised, as she had been the last time he saw her.

  He was quite impressed to see her dolled up to the nines, her hair primped and preened and her make-up done. He felt quite the ladies’ man walking into the bar with both her and Detta, and to have Niamh waiting for him. Even though he hadn’t been able to drink, he had been having a blast. And apart from worrying if Ruth was going to throw herself into the Foyle, he was very much enjoying having Detta all to himself. Perhaps, though, he should trust Detta’s judgement. She hadn’t been wrong about much, if anything, before. Sure she was a little different – a bit more out there than the usual residents of Rathinch – but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Being different from Laura was definitely a good thing, in his eyes.

  “You’ve been a breath of fresh air, you know,” he said looking at her.

  “Don’t be daft.”

  “I’m not being daft. It’s no secret I didn’t want anything to do with your single parents’ group, but in hindsight I’m glad my mother forced me to go.”

  “I’m glad your mother forced you to go too,” Detta said with a warm smile. “But you have to realise that the group is only what it is because of the members. It’s nothing to do with me and my hand-drawn posters, and my silly little letter-writing. It’s because you all came along and gave it a go.”

  “You made that easy,” he said. God, he realised, now was his chance. He could say something and risk ruining the group dynamic but maybe be happy, or he could keep his feelings inside but regret it.

  He looked at her, smiling at him.

  “You know how I feel,” he said, knowing in that instant that she did.

  She nodded slowly.

  “I don’t expect you to feel the same. And I won’t hold it against you if you don’t, but I couldn’t say nothing. You have to be stupid not to realise anyway, but you know, in case you needed any clarity . . .”

  “I didn’t.”

  Shit, he thought. Didn’t was a negative word. It could mean no good. He felt his face start to blush. Who said women were the only ones who got themselves into a stupid old state by declaring their feelings? It wasn’t like this with Laura. She had pursued him. Not that he was pursuing Detta as such – that sounded slightly sordid and maybe a little stalkerish. No, he just liked her and he hoped, really hoped, that she liked him back.

  “I like you too,” Detta said, reaching out and stroking his cheek. “I can’t say I’m not torn because there should probably be some professional line here that I’m meant to stay behind, but you’ve given me a purpose again, Liam. And I don’t just mean the group, and our meetings. I mean so much more.” She leaned in, slightly woozy with drink and kissed Liam square on the lips, except this time he knew that she wasn’t doing it to feed the gossipmongers of Rathinch. She was doing it just because she wanted to. So he kissed her back, just because he wanted to.

  * * *

  Niamh stood in the lift and got her breath back. Her heart was thumping. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had chickened out and there was part of her – the arse-kicking shoes part of her – that was tempted to turn around, go back and clock Caitlin around the face just for good measure. But what good would it do? It wouldn’t change anything except to get her a conviction for assault and besides, there was a high chance it would ruin her manicure.

  More than that, however, was the fact that she simply didn’t want to any more. It wasn’t that she wasn’t angry, or that she no longer felt betrayed. She had just seen Caitlin looking slightly pathetic and could tell that despite the scene being set for a night of high romance, Caitlin was still a pathetic creature who was pining for a man who was never really hers in the first place. In many ways, she had a lot in common with Niamh. There was no way Niamh could make her feel any more pain than she was already feeling and, she realised, she actually didn’t want to. The lift stopped and the doors slid open. She straightened herself up and walked out, straight – once again – into Kevin.

  He was standing with a smug grin on his face and a bunch of shabby garage flowers.

  “Niamh,” he blustered drunkenly. “Thank God you’ve finally left her. You know she called me and said to hold off for a bit but I thought you would be there all night.”

  “No,” Niamh replied, shocked at just how low Caitlin had sunk. “She’s all yours.”

  “Night, Niamh,” Kevin replied with a smile and walked into the lift and Niamh walked out. Now, she felt even more sorry for Caitlin than ever as she walked away from the apartment block towards the riverfront.

  “Niamh!”

  Ruth called out to her and she looked up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just fine. Are you okay? What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death!”

  “I’m fine too, don’t worry about me. Did it go okay?”

  Niamh shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I know more now. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “So you didn’t kill her then?” Ruth asked with a friendly smile.

  “No, somehow the murderous urge left me when I saw her.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing. You know, spending the rest of your years behind bars wouldn’t be much fun. I mean, I know Rathinch isn’t much better but at least you get the sea air.” Ruth raised her eyebrows and smiled again.

  “And the chips are nice,” Niamh mused.

  “And you know, there’s always a steady supply of Aran jumpers for when it gets chilly.”

  “And the most impressive variety of spuds known to man in the corner shop.”

  “And you have that lovely house, with your gorgeous kitchen island of dreams.”

  Niamh laughed. “Actually, I’m getting rid of it. If you want it, it’s yours.”

  “No,” Ruth said with mock horror. “You can’t get rid of it!”

  “Oh I’ll get another one. I just want to get rid of that fecking marble monstrosity. Can I let you into a secret?”

  Ruth nodded.

  “Well, it was only a month ago, when I was cleaning it, that I realised something.”

  “What? That it’s a th
ing of beauty?”

  “No. The marble – it’s the same as Seán’s gravestone.”

  Ruth’s eyes widened. She was unsure how to respond.

  Niamh looked at her and couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Oh don’t worry. It gave me a shock at the time, but now I see the funny side. He would die – well, again anyway – if he knew he was laid beneath a slab of the finest kitchen marble.” Niamh threw her head back and laughed.

  Ruth paused for a second, not sure if the laugh was of genuine mirth or mild hysteria. She watched, looking for a hint that it was okay to laugh too.

  “It is funny,” Niamh laughed, “and I’ve discovered Flash kitchen cleaner is perfect for keeping both your worktops and your gravestones gleaming.”

  Ruth was gone then – she couldn’t help but snort along.

  “So if you want it, it’s yours,” Niamh reiterated.

  “You know, I don’t think I would have room for a kitchen in my kitchen if I had that in there, but I appreciate the offer. Just promise me you’ll have a farewell party for it so I can come and pay my last respects?”

  “I promise,” Niamh said, linking arms with Ruth and walking back towards the bar.

  * * *

  The expression “bogging into each other” is often overused, Ruth thought, as she looked at Liam and Detta – for all intents and purposes bogging into each other.

  The expression should be one of passion, lust and desire and it was very clear to her now that all those things were there in abundance.

  It was oddly nice to watch and disturbing at the same time. Ruth thought it was a bit like walking in on your parents having sex – except of course Liam and Detta weren’t having sex and they were very much in a public bar and not at all in the privacy of their own bedroom.

  But they were clearly lost in the moment.

  “Should we get a bucket of water?” Niamh asked, with a wicked glint in her eye.

  “Ah, sure leave them to it. The only problem with me is jealousy,” Ruth answered and then, realising how she could be misconstrued, added: “Not that I fancy Liam, or Detta for that matter – but I could just do with a bit of that passion for myself.”

  “God, I think I’m off men for life,” Niamh said.

  “Never say never,” Ruth said, guiding her friend towards the bar. “Not all men are bastards, you know.”

  “I know. We’ve just been very, very unlucky.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Ruth said, ordering two glasses of champagne from the handsome barman.

  “Then again, without my bastard I wouldn’t have the twins,” Niamh said.

  “And I suppose I wouldn’t have my lot either – although sometimes with Eimear, well, I think I would be better off,” Ruth smiled.

  “You don’t mean that?”

  “Of course not – but let me tell you, missus, when your two reach the teenage years you will be grateful for that big house of yours. Take refuge in one end and lock yourself in till they are eighteen. It will save you a lot of trouble.”

  The barman – a handsome, gorgeously groomed man in his mid-twenties – put down the two glasses in front of the ladies and smiled warmly at them.

  “You know,” Niamh said, “I think a toast is in order.”

  Ruth lifted her glass.

  “To our bastards –” Niamh started.

  “And all who sailed in them!”

  49

  There are defining moments in your life, Liam thought, and defining kisses. His first kiss – an awkward fumbling affair when he was fourteen – was one. He felt so grown-up afterwards, but also mildly embarrassed and paranoid. He thought he had done it right, but he would never really know. His first kiss with Laura was another. It was as if it had been plucked from a Mills & Boon novel, as they stood under the pelting rain in the main street of Rathinch and he brushed the hair from her eyes before leaning in to kiss her.

  This kiss – this moment now in the crowded, pretentious bar in Derry would be another. It reminded him what kisses should be like. It reminded him that they should be passionate and tender at the same time. It reminded him that a kiss could say more than words ever could and that a kiss was best when it was not a perfunctory peck on the lips or cheek at the end of a day. In their latter years, he realised, he and Laura both had perfected the art of the cat’s-arse pout. A quick touch of the very tips of their lips without even the remotest chance breath would pass between the two or that a tongue could slip in. He had, he realised with shock, had more passionate kisses with his mother in the last four years. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind as quickly as it had made its way to the front, he sat back and smiled. This kiss, which had broken apart just a few seconds before, made him feel alive.

  “That,” Detta said, “was worth waiting for.”

  “Yes,” he replied, lost for words but not worrying about it. He knew then that with Detta he could be quiet without worrying what was going on in her head, and without questioning how she felt for him.

  All the years when he thought he had his perfect match were so glaringly flawed now. This, he thought, was what a perfect match felt like.

  “Well,” Detta said with a smile, “I’m thinking this is going to be the talk of Rathinch.”

  “Let them talk,” Liam said. “Anyhow it beats them talking about Ruth and her fecker of a husband, or Niamh and her great tragedy, or even young Ciara and the father of her baby. This is a nice thing for them to talk about.”

  “You know what, you’re right. Let them chat about us and give everyone else a break for a while.”

  “So this,” Liam said, looking into her eyes, “is something more than just a kiss, isn’t it?”

  “I hope so,” Detta said with a smile. “I really hope so.” She locked eyes with him and they kissed again.

  There weren’t quite fireworks but there was a whoop of approval from both Ruth and Niamh who had raised a glass to their friends.

  * * *

  “So, we really should be getting back, shouldn’t we?” Ruth said as the barman cleared up around them.

  “Before they throw us out, you mean?” Detta laughed.

  “I do think they want to go home.” Ruth looked around at the almost empty bar and the look of exhaustion on the faces of the bar staff.

  “I suppose we should be making a move,” Liam said. “Niamh, can we drop you somewhere?”

  “Actually, yes, could I cadge a lift with you? My mum will keep the twins here in Derry and there’s something I need to take care of back home.”

  Detta raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked for the twenty-fifth time.

  “I’m fine. I just feel like having my own space tonight . . . and starting moving on with my life.”

  “Right, well, there’s plenty of room in the car as long as you ladies promise not to get too rowdy on me.”

  “We promise we’ll be good,” Detta, Ruth and Niamh chorused and laughing they walked back to the car – each with a smile on her face for a very different reason.

  * * *

  “I’m a big enough girl to handle this,” Eimear said as Ciara left.

  “I know you are,” Ciara said with false confidence. She was pretty sure as soon as Ben arrived with his big, dark eyes, his full lips and his floppy hair Eimear would be a lost cause. She knew she herself had been a lost cause on many occasions – hence her ending up the stick at fifteen.

  “Look, I’m off now, I’ve Ella to deal with. But take care.”

  “I will,” Eimear said, offering her an awkward hug before closing the door.

  Ciara pulled her coat around her and headed home where Lorraine was waiting for her.

  “Did you have a nice evening, love?” Lorraine asked, looking up from the TV.

  “It was okay,” Ciara said, flopping down on the sofa in international teenage sign language for “No, actually, it was a bit rubbish and I want to talk.”

  “Really?” Lorraine asked.

  “No. I told
Eimear about Ben, and he’s on his way there now and she’ll either put her sensible head on and believe me and tell him to take a running jump or he’ll convince her I’m the biggest slapper in town and I’ll be a laughing stock.”

  “Pet,” Lorraine said, hugging her daughter, “I know it’s hard but we know the truth. The people who really matter know the truth – and those who don’t believe you, don’t matter. This is a small town. People like to talk and make up their own stories. It gets them through the day – after all, there is feck all else to do round these parts in the winter.”

  “That’s not true. There’s the cinema.”

  “That shows films that everyone went to see in Letterkenny three months ago? Look, pet, you can’t control other people’s actions, only your reaction to them. Hold your head high and hope that Eimear has the sense her mother gave her. Apart from that, there’s not much you can do, love.”