Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this. Ciara will be hopping mad behind me. I know she will. I still want to do it… commit suicide. I think I do anyway. But I really wouldn’t mind talking to Harriet, just to get a different opinion. She’s so intelligent, so cool. She might understand why I hate the thought of being called Fishfingers for the next six years. She might understand that I feel like I’m bothering Mum and Dad if I tell them I feel sad.
‘Huh?’ Harriet says, taking my hand away from my face. ‘Tell me… you can say anything to me… what’s wrong?’ I hold my eyes closed and nod my head, as if I’m telling myself I shouldn’t say what I want to say.
‘It’s nothing,’ Ciara interrupts. I knew she would. ‘It’s the whole school thing… how everybody will be calling her Fishfingers in the morning. But don’t worry, Harriet… I’ll look after her. I promise.’
I swallow hard. I’m not sure if I’m grateful for the interruption or not. My mind is too… too full; full of horrible thoughts; full of sadness; full of disappointment; full of fear. But that’s why I want to die, isn’t it? I want my mind to stop feeling all these bad things all the time.
‘You sure, Ingrid? Is there anything else you want to say to me?’ Harriet says.
I suck up a sob, and as I’m doing so, I decide I’ll tell her; tell her that I’d rather die than feel the way I do. Then, just as I’m about to open my mouth, I hear a huge fart — like one of those crackling fireworks. It goes on and on.
I laugh, and as I do, my tears spray onto Harriet’s face.
She falls back onto the bed, her hand over her mouth, doing her best to not laugh too loudly. I look behind, through my tears, and notice Ciara has slidden down the wall. She has her knees up beside her ears, her face buried behind them, her shoulders shaking. Squeals of laughter are squeaking out of all three of us. Then another fart comes; not so loud this time, more a splat. And suddenly I’m on my knees, holding my lips closed as tightly as I can so no more squeals of laughter can sneak out.
Then Uncle Brendan lets out a gasp and I am certain I am about to wet my knickers. Ciara can’t hold it in anymore either. Her laughter gets loud. Harriet rises from the bed, her face purple, her eyes tightly closed, tears glistening on the edges of them and she begins to wave her hand at Ciara — trying to get her to shut up. But she can’t. Ciara is flat on the floor now, on her stomach, laughter roaring from her. Then my dam bursts too; my lips ripping open and laughter pouring out. I fall flat onto my belly and begin banging my fists on the carpet.
‘Bleedin’ hell!’ Ciara says, in between gasps.
I manage to suck in some air and fill my cheeks, to try to stop the laughter and return to normal. I look up at Harriet and see her drying her eyes with her poncho.
‘He always does that!’ she whispers to me. ‘He doesn’t know how loud he is.’
My lips blow out more laughter. I’m getting scared now, as if I’m gonna suffocate and die right here, right now. Jesus. Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to go? Ciara has researched suicide for so long now that she came up with the quickest and least painful way for us to do it, but I bet she never thought about dying of laughter.
I manage to slow down my breathing and finally sit up, resting my back against the bed. Ciara does the same, then grips my elbow and when I turn to her she winks at me.
‘Jesus, Harriet, why did you choose the bedroom closest to the toilet?’ Ciara asks, a ripple of laughter still squeezing out of her mouth.
Harriet dabs at her eyes again.
‘The house is tiny, all of the bedrooms are close to the toilet,’ she answers as she steadies herself to stand. ‘I’m so sorry, girls. That’s so embarrassing.’
‘Jesus, don’t be silly,’ Ciara says. ‘All men are the same. I wonder if it talks about men’s pooing habits in your books?’
The three of us laugh again, but a normal laugh this time; one we are certain we can recover from.
‘Well there ye go,’ Harriet says. ‘There’s your recipe for getting over Stitch, huh? Your uncle having a noisy shit. You’ve gone from crying to laughing in a split second. Told ye pain doesn’t last long.’
I reach out and hug her again. She grips me tight.
‘Here, take this,’ she says, handing me the book. ‘Read it and get back to me. If you ever need an ear, phone me. Or drop by. Anytime. Both of you.’
I shake my head, nuzzle it onto her shoulder and breathe in her hair.
‘Love you, cuz,’ I say.
She leans off me and stares into my eyes.
‘Not like you to say “I love you”,’ she smiles. ‘But I love you too. Always have, Ingrid. I’ll see you soon, yeah?’
I nod my head; not sure whether I’m lying to her or not. Then I hold her book close to my chest and watch as she hugs Ciara.
‘Actually, tell you what… Dad! Dad!’ Harriet shouts over Ciara’s shoulder.
‘Gimme a sec!’ he calls out from the toilet.
To stop myself from laughing again, I stroll around the room, pull at a little drawer below Harriet’s CD player and flick through her CDs. She strolls over towards me and pushes it closed.
‘Dad!’ she shouts again.
‘Jesus. I’m trying to wipe me arse!’ he says. The three of us laugh again. Out loud. Not minding that he hears us this time.
‘I’m just wondering if you can drop the girls home? It’s late. Ten to ten. Do you mind?’
‘No, no… Jesus no,’ Ciara butts in.
‘It’s no problem. Any excuse to get him out of the house. Sure, it’s only a ten minute drive… he’ll be fine.’
Uncle Brendan sighs.
‘Go on then,’ he says. Then the toilet flushes and the bathroom door opens. ‘Let me get me shoes on.’
‘Uncle Brendan,’ I call out, opening the door of Harriet’s bedroom. He’s stopped at the top of the stars, is staring over his shoulder at me. I pause before saying anything — not because I don’t know what to say, but because the stench from the toilet has just reached my nose.
‘Doesn’t matter… Uncle Brendan. Thank you. We’d appreciate the lift. We’ll be down in a second.’ I say all that in one breath, then close Harriet’s bedroom door.
‘Oh my God, the stink,’ I whisper.
Harriet and Ciara laugh. I don’t. It’s hard to laugh when you’re pinching your nostrils and holding your lips tight together.
Eventually I let go and puff out a breath.
‘Okay — I guess we better go now,’ I say. I hug Harriet again and thank her for the book.
As me and Ciara are walking down the stairs, she begins to strike up some sort of argument without saying anything. She’s speaking with her hands, her face all creased up in that angry way she gets sometimes. I’m not sure if she’s giving out about me for taking the book or whether she’s angry that Uncle Brendan is going to give us a lift. Maybe it’s both. Or maybe she feels I’ve changed my mind — that I’m not going to follow through on our pact.
I just hug the book a little tighter to my chest and ignore her.
Helen strides in her own unique way — poker straight, arms in pockets — towards the group of teenagers as Charlie, close behind, shines his torch over her shoulder.
‘Which one of you is Tommy Smith?’ she asks.
She notices their heads spin and murmurs spark amongst them, echoing off the dome wall under the bridge.
‘Which one of you is Tommy Smith?’ she asks again, this time more direct.
‘We don’t talk to pigs,’ a boy with bad acne says. He’s a lot taller than the others around him, though Helen notes he can’t be much older than them. They all look to be in their mid-teens, maybe even a year or two younger.
Helen sniffs her nose and then takes a large stride forward, so that she’s only inches from the group. She isn’t afraid of much. Except for water. Would go into a full blown panic if this confrontation got heated and she somehow found herself in that canal.
She takes in each face in front of her; eight boys, three girl
s.
‘We have reason to believe two of your friends may be in grave danger. We’re not looking to cause any trouble; we’re only here to help save lives. You can keep drinking your cider, keep smoking that cheap weed. All I want is to speak to Tommy. Now… which one of you is Tommy?’
‘He’s not here,’ the smallest of the girls says.
‘Shurrup, Audrey,’ the boy with the acne says. ‘We don’t talk to pigs.’
Audrey takes a step behind her friend to try to stifle her embarrassment by hiding her face.
Helen looks back at Charlie, then turns to the group again.
‘Thank you, Audrey. Listen, guys, we’re not here to disturb your evening. We have good reason to believe two girls, of about your age, will die tonight if we can’t get to them first. Tommy knows who they are, and where they are. We need to speak with him as soon as possible.’
The boy with the acne takes a step closer to Helen, then sniffs his nose as loudly as he can before folding his arms and standing more upright.
‘I get it,’ Helen says, ‘you don’t speak to pigs.’ She strains her neck, so she can peer past him. ‘What about the rest of you?’
‘We don’t believe you,’ another boy shouts.
Helen takes her hands out of her pockets and holds her palms up.
‘I am not lying. I swear to you. To each of you. We just need to speak to Tommy for two minutes, then we’ll be on our way.’
The boy with the acne sniffs his nose loudly again. No noise comes from the gang behind him.
Helen fidgets with her fingers, then sucks on her lips.
‘Okay… let me ask you this. Do any of you know of any girls from the area or from your school who you feel might be tempted to commit suicide? It’s imperative you tell us. We need to save their lives.’
The boy with the acne looks behind him. Then he turns back to Helen and sniffs his nose again.
Helen runs a hand through the back of her orange hair, scrunching it up in frustration.
‘You’re a funny looking pig aren’tcha?’ the boy with the acne says. ‘And you… you with the torch, ye look like a bleedin’ rat. All that’s missing is the whiskers.’
An echo of laughter sounds around them. Helen eyeballs as much of the group as she can, noticing that the cowering Audrey is the only one not finding acne boy particularly funny.
‘How old are you, Audrey?’ Helen asks.
Audrey’s eyes go wide at the mention of her name, then she stares down at her Nike trainers.
‘Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, maybe I should guess,’ Helen says. ‘Thirteen? Fourteen? Well, the two girls who we believe are going to harm themselves tonight are your age. I don’t suppose one of em is you, is it?’
Audrey looks up, then shakes her head rapidly.
‘Shurrup, Audrey,’ the boy with the acne says. ‘Don’t tell these pigs nuttin.’
Helen looks back to Charlie again and sighs. He takes a step forward, shining the torch in the boy’s acne-ridden face.
‘You’re hardly one for judging people’s looks, young man,’ he says. ‘Now, the rest of you listen up. Two girls’ lives are in the balance here. We are not looking for any information other than where we can find Tommy Smith so he can give us the name of these girls. Which one of you is Tommy Smith?’
‘He’s not here,’ a boy from the back calls out. ‘He don’t hang round here no more. Hasn’t hung with us in months. He fucked off with another bunch of mates.’
Charlie nods.
‘Thank you. Now, can you tell me where I can find him? Where does he hang out with these new mates?’
The group fall silent again. Charlie pivots his wrist, so he can shine the torch in to each of their faces. Every time a face lights up, its eyes look down. They don’t want to talk.
‘You’re only thirteen, right?’ Helen says stepping in front of Charlie and staring at Audrey.
Audrey shakes her head.
‘Fourteen?’
Audrey nods.
‘Okay then… you are under arrest for underage drinking, you are coming with us.’
‘Hold the fuck on,’ the boy with the acne says, holding his hand in front of Helen.
Helen eyeballs him, the two of them having a staring competition in front of the group of teenagers, torchlight shining between them.
‘You wanna be done too for assaulting a police officer?’ Helen asks after the staring match has carried on for way too long.
The boy removes his hand and Helen holds hers out to Audrey.
‘C’mon, Audrey, you’re coming with us.’
‘Why y’only pickin’ on her… we’re all drinking, we’re all smoking joints?’ one of the boys asks.
Helen coughs into her hand.
‘Audrey here confirmed her age for me. You all wanna do the same? You all wanna come to the station with us?’
She looks around at the gang, hoping they all stay silent. Things would get a hell of a lot more complicated for Helen if they all admitted to being under age. If they all wanted to go to the station as a protest to support Audrey, Helen’s plan would fall apart. She nods at the silence. Relieved.
‘Good,’ she says. ‘We only need to formally address Audrey. We’ll have her back with you in a few minutes.’
Helen stretches her hand further. Audrey creeps out slowly from behind her friend and then walks towards the torchlight and out from under the bridge; Charlie in front of her, Helen behind her.
‘Fuckin pigs,’ one of the gang shouts out.
Charlie leads both Audrey and Helen up the steps and towards his Garda car. He holds the top of Audrey’s head as she bends into the back seat and then Helen walks to the other side of the car, gets into the back seat too.
‘You can go back under the bridge,’ she says, ‘back swigging your cheap cider in a couple minutes, Audrey. I just have a couple of important questions I need to ask you.’
Audrey nods her head, and then eyeballs Helen before staring over at Charlie who has just got himself into the driver’s seat. Her knees are shaking.
‘Two girls’ lives are in danger, so I need you to be totally honest with me. I don’t care if you are drinking cider and smoking weed, I don’t care if Tommy Smith is from a family of scumbags who have been in and out of prison. Honestly, whatever you or any of your mates have done in the past, I couldn’t give two shits about it. All I want to do tonight is save these girls’ lives.’
Audrey nods her head and swallows at the same time.
‘Do you know of any girls who might want to harm themselves tonight?’
Audrey’s shoulders hunch up, then down.
‘No,’ she says. Helen squelches her face up in disappointment. ‘I’m being honest. No. I don’t know any girls who would commit suicide.’
‘Okay. Where can we find Tommy Smith? He holds the key to us tracking these two girls down. We need to find him.’
Audrey allows a light sigh seep its way out of her nostrils.
‘Ye can’t tell him I told yis where he hangs out,’ she says.
Helen shakes her head.
‘We won’t.’
‘He eh… he’s started to hang around with some older blokes. I don’t know who they are. But I think they mostly hang around the snooker hall in Terenure, ye know it?’
Helen looks at Charlie.
‘Yeah, I know it,’ Charlie says. ‘It’s called Cue, right?’
Audrey nods her head. She looks disappointed in herself; as if she’s revealing some dark secret she swore she’d never tell.
‘It’s all okay, Audrey. We aren’t looking to arrest Tommy for anything. Our only concern is saving the two girls,’ Helen reminds her.
‘Really? Yis aren’t messing with me? This is really about two girls committing suicide?’
Helen places a curled finger under Audrey’s chin and lifts it so that she can stare into her eyes.
‘I promise,’ she says. ‘Now do you think Tommy will be in Cue right now?’
Audrey r
aises an eyebrow, then shakes her shoulder towards Helen.
‘I assume so… it’s where he normally is. But as I said, I don’t really hang around with him anymore. He stopped hanging around with us months ago.’
‘Do you go to the same school as Tommy?’
Audrey laughs through her nose.
‘He doesn’t go to school, are ye mad? Don’t know when’s the last time I saw him at school.’
‘But you do go to St Joseph’s School; Brother Fitzpatrick is your Headteacher, right?’
Audrey’s eyes widen.
‘Are the two girls from my school? Who are they?’
Helen removes her finger from underneath Audrey’s chin.
‘That’s what we need to find out. Audrey… tell us, do you know of any girls from your school who you feel would put their lives in danger?’
Audrey holds her lips tight together, then begins to shake her head slowly.
‘I’m sorry. I’d tell yis if I did. I want to help. I hope yis find these two girls, but I… I can’t help ye. I can only tell ye where I think Tommy might be. Hopefully he can help yis.’
Helen squelches her face up again, then she takes out her phone to check the time. 21:56. Time is running out.
‘D’you have Tommy’s phone number?’ she asks Audrey.
Audrey shifts her bum cheek off the seat and reaches into her back pocket. She scrolls through her screen, then turns it to face Helen. Helen reaches her finger towards it and presses at Tommy’s name.
‘Ah Jaysus, don’t ring him from my phone,’ Audrey says, ‘he’ll think I’m checking up on him.’
‘Shush, shush,’ Helen says, taking the phone and holding it to her ear. The ring tone dials, and dials… then cuts out. She sighs, then takes out her own phone and types in Tommy’s number.
‘He never bloody answers his phone anyway,’ Audrey says.
‘What do you think, Charlie?’ Helen asks, placing her hand on his shoulder.
‘If you’ve got his number and we have a location, let’s get there,’ he says.
Helen offers Audrey a thin smile.
‘You’re good to go.’
21:55
The Tick-Tock Trilogy Box Set Page 63
