Locked Out of Heaven

by Shirley Benton

  She sniffed and threw a hurt look my way before sticking her snout in the air and leaving the room. It looked like it was also “take every bad thing that’s ever happened to you out on your daughter” day, too. She was right – I always got the shit roles.

  Well, I’d signed up for it now and there was no going back. But I was doing this on my terms. I’d say what I thought people wanted to hear about my marriage break-up – but the truth? No way. Terry was right – the woman I’d seen him with was bound to have too much to lose to make Terry’s business public. He wouldn’t have gone near her in the first place if she was the type to talk. He was too smart. I’d go on this reality TV show, make my money and get on with the life I had now.

  And if it caused Terry any discomfort . . . well, that was just a bonus.

  Chapter 10

  Crash-landing onto the set of Lost in the mid-noughties would have been less disorientating than my first day of filming. Teena had informed me by email when we’d commence filming and where I should go on our first day: the Eire TV studios. A logical starting point, yes, but I was anxious to know where we’d go after that.

  Although I’d promised Susie that I wouldn’t allow filming inside her house, Blackbeg would surely have to come into the show somehow – and that made me very nervous. When I’d emailed and rung for more details on the itinerary for the day, Teena seemed to know nothing.

  “I just make the appointments around here, I’m afraid,” she’d repeat every time, not sounding in the slightest bit afraid.

  When I asked to be put through to Luke, he was apparently unavailable on every occasion. It was around then that I started wishing I’d never signed the contracts for this show.

  That wish was repeated with gusto when I met my fellow boomerangers, Eve and Stephanie, in reception. Eve was an ethereal creature with a heavenly figure and was at least six foot and Stephanie bore more than a passing resemblance to the late Lolo Ferrari (AKA the woman with the largest fake boobs in the world), only with smaller boobs – now, by smaller, I mean a G cup – and even skinnier legs than Lolo had. The words “You’re going to be the token fat girl on the show” zoomed into my head. Susie was right, which was upsetting. What she was right about, not that she was right – although that wasn’t exactly a pleasing thought in itself, either. I suddenly felt hugely uncomfortable in every possible sense.

  “So, what are you in for?” Stephanie asked me.

  I frowned. “To be filmed, of course.”

  “No, I mean, why did they pick you for the show? What are you famous for?”

  “Oh. I’m not. They asked me because my ex-husband seems to be fairly well known around town for his chain of pubs.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Terry Kenyon.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “I know who he is,” Eve said softly. “One of his pubs used to be my local. Lovely place.”

  I smiled gratefully at Eve.

  “Terry and I broke up recently and word got out that I was living back at home with my parents since we split, so I got the call. I suppose I’m just here because of who I was married to, really.”

  “Right.” Stephanie twirled a curl around her finger. “Well, they must have been delighted to sign me up with the amount of material they have to work with when it comes to me. I’m a real life Becky Bloomwood from Sophie Kinsella’s Shopaholic books.”

  Stephanie explained how she’d once worked as a fashion editor in a magazine and had got caught up in the pursuit of an aspirational lifestyle. She’d bought a penthouse in the docklands on her modest wage, got breast augmentation and regular Botox, and maxed out countless credit cards on buying clothes, shoes and make-up.

  “The bank owns the penthouse now and the magazine I worked for folded, so I didn’t have any choice but to go back to Mum and Dad. But hey, I still have my tits.”

  “And your lovely clothes, by the looks of it,” Eve said.

  “Oh, this old thing! My wardrobe is very passé now. I tried to sell as much of it as possible, but seriously, who wants to buy a second-hand Michael Kors dress or a twice-worn pair of Louboutin shoes?”

  She still looked pretty on-trend to me, but then, what would I know? If it didn’t have patches of milk on the shoulders, it wasn’t really in my frame of reference.

  “And what’s your story, Eve?” Stephanie asked.

  “I just moved back from working in London and have no money to afford my own place, so I’m living with my parents until I can get a job. Trouble is, I don’t seem to be able to find one.”

  “What do you do?” I asked.

  “I play the cello in an orchestra.”

  “Oh. No wonder you’re here, so,” Stephanie said.

  “Music is my life, but there aren’t many options for musicians in Dublin.”

  “I’m surprised you moved home at all, then,” I said. “Surely London had more opportunities for orchestras than Dublin ever will?”

  “If they were there, I couldn’t find them.”

  “If anyone else had told me what you just have, I’d advise them to retrain, but you, honey, need to bag yourself a rich husband,” Stephanie chimed in. “Look in the mirror – it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  A few minutes later, Teena ushered us into the bosom of Eire TV and took us straight to hair and make-up, informing us that Luke was in meetings and had given her instructions on what to do with us. When the hair and make-up department had finished working their magic, all three of us would individually have to record a short segment at Eire TV in which we’d explain the circumstances of our becoming boomerangers and how we felt about it. It wasn’t hard to work out that I’d be the last one ready to do the recording. Then we’d go our separate ways, my first stop being Sorrento Hill and then – as expected and feared – on to Blackbeg.

  Although they said they wanted footage of the estate in general, they wouldn’t show the name of it, and they assured me they’d go nowhere near Susie and Willie’s house. If they wanted to keep their filming equipment intact, they’d better keep their word. They had no idea what they’d be dealing with if Susie caught up with them.

  Arriving in Sorrento Hill was surreal. I hadn’t been here since I’d found out the house was being repossessed and I was instantly transported back to the day I’d discovered the truth about Terry. I was asked to walk to the village’s gourmet food hall to be filmed going inside, to show the kind of thing I used to spend my days doing in my old life. I hadn’t told them that that’s how I spent my time – they just assumed and as it turned out, their assumptions were correct.

  Terry insisted that most of our shopping was done here, even though I could never see the difference between the brands here and the ones in the usual supermarkets. I always thought his motivation was the fear that one of the neighbours would drop in unexpectedly and clock that we drank commoner coffee if we shopped in the regular places. It irritated me, but I went along with it for a quiet life.

  The crew parked across the road to film me. I got out and walked slowly towards the food hall, dreading the moment when I’d step inside and have memories flooding over me. I never felt comfortable in there anyway, spending too much on overpriced things and knowing I was being ripped off but doing it anyway. It had all been such complete and utter nonsense. It was only now that everything had been stripped away that I could truly see it. What sort of idiots were we to have lived like that?

  Just as I reached the door, a familiar face exited the shop. Oh no.

  “Holly!” Laurie beamed at me, not a trace of guilt on her face. “It’s so good to see you out and about again! And in these parts, no less!”

  “Hi, Laurie.” I brushed past her into the shop and prayed she wouldn’t follow.

  “Wait! You seem ticked off, Holly. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  If she was trying to suss out my reaction to Alice’s article, s
he wouldn’t be getting one. All that mattered now was getting away from her in case she found out what was going on. Nothing had been announced about the show yet.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, before you go, may I recommend a new brand of sun-dried tomatoes that they’ve started stocking here since you went to the dark side of the river. They’re simply super.”

  She rattled off a brand name and waited in expectation for the profuse thanks she was owed for her lifesaving culinary tip.

  “I have it on good authority that sun-dried tomatoes are linked to hepatitis, so I’ll pass. Goodbye, Laurie.”

  I thought that would put an end to matters, but no.

  “Hang on. I was about to go for a cappa. Why don’t you join me?”

  “A cappa as in cappuccino, or a cuppa said in your ridiculously false accent?”

  “Holly!”

  “Actually, it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t go for either with you. Now, please leave me alone. I’m sure there’s a new brand of overpriced olives somewhere in the world that needs your attention.”

  Luke’s assistant producer, Zara, burst in.

  “Holly, what’s going on? We only wanted to film you walking up to the door!”

  I was sure I could actually see Laurie’s ears pricking up.

  “Yes, Holly, what is going on? Why are you being filmed?”

  “Let’s go, Zara,” I said, but it was too late.

  Zara’s Eire TV building access swipe card was still dangling around her neck and Laurie had clocked it. She even bent her head down towards Zara’s midriff to make sure she had all the details. I made for the door, but not before I noticed a self-satisfied smile creep across Laurie’s face.

  When we eventually ascertained that Laurie had buggered off, we recommenced filming. As soon as the footage was in the bag, we crossed the city to Blackbeg and parked up outside a cash-for-gold shop, the guys anxious to start the footage on the main street before going to the estate.

  Zara, Paul, the cameraman, and I got out.

  “As before, we’ll need you to walk down the street looking around,” Zara said. “Maybe walk a little more slowly this time and look around as you go, okay? Try to look pensive.”

  “Why?”

  “To look like you’re thinking about your current circumstances, of course.”

  “But I’m not.”

  It was rather worrying how I was starting to enjoy being obtuse since I left Terry.

  “For the purposes of this show, you are,” Zara said impatiently. “None of us wants to be here all day.”

  She glanced at a couple of men sitting on the window of a bookies as she spoke. One of them winked at her. She turned away quickly.

  I crossed the road and walked to the first shop on the right, a Chinese takeaway, and started to make my way down the street, feeling massively self-conscious. God, I must have been crazy when I decided to do this!

  I thought about my bank account again and felt the familiar panic. My moment of doubt about what I was doing passed. At least I was doing something.

  I looked around, trying to see Blackbeg village as an outsider would. It had changed a lot, but what remained was still so familiar to me. The chip shop had been renamed but was still the same greasy cesspit it had been in the nineties. I remembered sitting at the window on plastic chairs that twisted with Ricky and Cliff one night after Susie and Willie had grudgingly allowed us to attend an alcohol-free disco. Cliff had managed to smuggle in two naggins of vodka and the pair of us were pissed and falling into our chips. Ricky hadn’t touched a drop of either naggin.

  Cliff and I had called him a big arse-licker then stole his chips to help us to sober up after we’d eaten all of our own. Susie and Willie, unsurprisingly, copped we were drunk as skunks the second they came to pick us up. That was the last disco Cliff and I had been allowed to go to. As I walked past the window, I could almost see Ricky sitting there, solid and sensible as always, while Cliff and I wobbled on our chairs.

  I looked away quickly.

  Poor Cliff had come over for lunch on Sunday, after all, and all he’d heard about was how long it had been since he was last over.

  “It’ll be longer next time,” he said as he left after an hour.

  “Try living here,” I said as I walked him to his car.

  “You know I’d help you out if I could, but all of my money is completely tied up in this development in Meath,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll come out the other side of this. We’ve been through worse, eh?”

  Cliff smiled. We rarely referred to Ricky directly. It was just a force of habit after spending so long walking on eggshells around Susie. An accidental mention of Ricky’s name could set her off for days.

  I completed my walk and was promptly asked by Zara to repeat it and keep my head slightly more tilted in the direction of the camera this time. I made my way back to the Chinese takeaway and started my Blackbeg catwalk again. As I continued down the street, an explosion of sound erupted as a group of male teenagers spilled out of a shop a few feet away. I stopped walking. They seemed to be rounding on someone in the middle of the group. Seconds later, one of them threw a punch. The others joined in.

  No way. Blackbeg was no utopia, but brawls on the street didn’t happen every minute of every day here, either. Was my luck really that bad? Maybe Eire TV had set this up to get the maximum effect from my opening sequence . . .

  Zara ran halfway across the road while the traffic lights were red and beckoned at me. She looked terrified. Paul was beside her, filming.

  “Come on, Holly! Let’s get out of here!”

  The face in the middle jumped out at me as he tried to escape.

  “Tropicana!” I yelled. “Hey! Leave him alone!”

  I turned to Paul, who’d crossed the road and was now standing right beside me.

  “Quick, get into the car and drive away or they’ll try to take the camera.”

  “But—”

  “Do it!”

  “Paul!” Zara screamed. “Wait for me!”

  I tried not to laugh. Poor Zara. She wouldn’t last two minutes here.

  Paul reluctantly retreated to the car, walking backwards and still filming. I marched over to the group.

  “This is being filmed, you pack of shitheads! Get out of here now, or we’ll take this footage straight to the police.”

  Some of the lads in the group instantly spewed expletives at me while others looked around to see if I was telling the truth.

  “Over there,” one of them said.

  Three of them took off and ran towards the car. Zara started up the car and pulled out, with Paul still filming.

  I ran into the group and grabbed Tropicana’s arm. One of the boys tried to push me backwards, but I wasn’t an easy woman to push.

  “Anthony Ryan, it’s you, you little shit,” I said to my neighbour’s son. “Does your mother know you’re mitching school today? She soon will.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Susie and Willie Richards’ daughter,” I said.

  Anthony’s eyes widened. “Those psychopaths have a daughter?”

  “Yep. And it runs in the family.”

  I grabbed Tropicana’s arm and pulled him away.

  “Lay a finger on either of us and I’m taking that footage straight to the guards.”

  I marched away, bracing myself for them to follow us anyway and lay into us, but they just howled more expletives at me instead.

  “Tropicana, what are you doing mitching school? You know I’ll have to tell Hawaii, don’t you? She’s my mother’s best friend.”

  “Don’t! She’ll kill me!”

  “Do you want to fail your exams and be stuck in this place for the rest of your life?”

  “It’s not my fault! They stole my school bag and said they wouldn’t give it back unless I went on the mitch with them. Mum couldn’t afford to buy all of my books again.”

  “So where is it now?”

  “I don’t know.”


  I sighed. “Why were you lot hanging around the shops?” I asked, knowing the answer.

  “They were stealing, not me. I swear.”

  “Tropicana, you have to stay away from those people if you want to have any chance of an education.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with them. They just won’t leave me alone.”

  “The best thing you can do is ignore them. Give them no reaction and they’ll eventually get bored.”

  “Yes, but what happens until then? I have to put up with getting the crap beaten out of me every day?”

  “You use this as an incentive to study hard and get away from a place like this, okay? I promise you, there are places out there where you’ll be treated better than here. Always remember, there’s a big world outside Blackbeg.”

  Zara pulled up beside us. “Quick, get in!”

  I indicated to Tropicana to get in first. Zara looked horrified to have him in the car, but she didn’t say anything. I gave her directions to drop Tropicana off at school, assuring him I’d speak to the headmaster about what had happened. I thought he’d put up a protest, but he looked quite relieved.

  “Good God. I feel like I’ve been given a part in that crime TV show Love/Hate,” Zara said as she drove to the school a bit faster than she should.

  “Because of a group of young lads fighting? You ain’t seen nothing yet, Zara. You’d better toughen up if you’re going to film with me.”

  “Well, we’re not going back there. We’ll use the first piece of footage of you walking down the road. It’ll have to do.”

  Zara was still on edge when I got back into the car after sorting things out with the school. She looked annoyed at having to wait so long, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Did you set all this up, Holly?” Zara asked as we drove away. “I mean, that wasn’t actually real, was it?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “I was going to ask you the same questions until I saw how scared you looked.”

  “And that boy . . . his name isn’t actually Tropicana, surely? Who’d do that to a child?”

  “Someone called Hawaii. Welcome to my life, Zara. Just to warn you, it’s not going to get any less strange from here on in.”