One Bad Turn Read online

  With a parting grin she led her boyfriend back across the car park, wrists extended to show the stamp that would allow them re-entry into the disco. Heather rubbed Eileen’s back and bent towards her.

  ‘Are you going to puke again?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I don’t think so. Oh, wait – yeah . . .’

  The bushes received another drenching. Then Eileen slowly raised her head.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I . . .’

  Tears sprang to her eyes and Heather grabbed a hanky from her bag and shoved it at her.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Eileen. Seriously.’

  ‘No, I mean it, I . . .’

  Her voice rose in a wail and Heather frowned.

  ‘You’ve got to calm down, okay? That bouncer over there is going to be keeping an eye on us. If he thinks you’re in a bad way he’ll insist on calling your folks. I told him we were cousins and that your mom was on the way. Look, if he figures out I was lying to him we’ll both be barred for life. Not that that would bother me particularly but you might want to come back to this shit hole at some stage.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Eileen gave a weak smile and then her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Hang on – why are you being so nice to me? And how do you know my name – have we met?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Heather smiled and walked back towards the grass verge, pulling the tail of her jacket under her and sitting down.

  ‘Yeah, we have. Don’t you remember me?’

  Shakily, Eileen lowered herself onto the grass beside her and her eyes widened. ‘Oh my God, you’re Heather Sterling, aren’t you? I didn’t recognize you with your hair dyed, and all. I thought you moved back to America.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’

  Heather pulled a packet of Silk Cut from her bag and shook them.

  ‘Want one?’

  Eileen grimaced.

  ‘Better not, I still feel awful. God, I’m mortified. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, stop apologizing.’

  Heather lit her cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into the night air.

  ‘We’ve all been there. Well . . .’ She grinned, ‘maybe not “there”, as in the bushes at the back of St Ferdia’s. But don’t sweat it, okay?’

  Eileen gave a small smile.

  ‘Okay. Thanks for rescuing me. That was very nice of you.’

  ‘Consider it payback, okay? You were pretty nice to me once upon a time.’

  Eileen didn’t reply. She probably didn’t even remember the birthday party, Heather thought. But she herself would never forget the mortifying afternoon when her mother had decided to create a social life for her only daughter and had nearly made her the laughing-stock of the school. Except Eileen Delaney had been decent to her and had done just enough to turn things around. They’d lost touch when Heather had gone back to America – who had time to write letters, anyway? – but she reckoned the least she owed Eileen was a back rub and a cigarette.

  Eileen stretched her legs out in front of her, white slip-on shoes shining in the moonlight, and smiled at Heather woozily.

  ‘So, are you back for good, then? Are you coming back to school?’

  She looked almost sober now, Heather noticed. Probably hadn’t had that much to drink in the first place. Amateur. She took another drag from her cigarette and tipped her head back, her long hair almost touching the grass. It was dyed coal black now, which was probably why Eileen hadn’t recognized her at first. But her freckles were the same, no matter how much white make-up she trowelled on top of them, big caramel splodges. Heather was sixteen years old and still felt as if she didn’t come from anywhere. It hadn’t got any easier over the years. But Eileen seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, so she gave her a brief smile before answering.

  ‘Yeah, I’m back, but I won’t be going to the convent. I’ll be at the Institute in town. My dad says—’

  They froze as the headlights of a car picked them out. It drove towards them, then parked three bays away. A mother climbed out, hurrying away in the direction of the St Ferdia’s clubhouse. Somebody else’s night was about to come to a premature end. Heather extended the packet of cigarettes again.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want one?’

  Eileen gave an experimental cough.

  ‘Oh, go on, then. It’s not like I can do myself any more damage this evening.’

  She took the cigarette and bent over as Heather lit it, then puffed the smoke out almost immediately.

  ‘Why did you come back?’

  A sudden blast of Transvision Vamp pierced the night air as the door to the disco opened again and Heather gave another long blue exhalation. The car that had just arrived had created a barrier between them and the rest of the car park. The warm darkness around them made her feel their conversation was completely private, that anything they said would remain between them. Besides, Eileen probably wouldn’t remember half of it anyway.

  ‘Me and my mom weren’t getting along.’

  ‘Ah, I’m sorry. That’s rough.’

  Eileen passed her cigarette into her left hand and, clumsily, placed the right briefly on Heather’s shoulder.

  ‘Your dad stayed here, didn’t he? When they – um, you know. When you two left?’

  Heather nodded.

  ‘Yeah. They split up, like, three years ago? That’s when me and Mom went back to the States. She got, like, a teaching job? But a few months ago she started seeing this new guy, a total asshole and— Well, the official line is that I had to come back to Dublin because the schools are better over here, like safer. And that’s true. I mean there was a kid caught with a gun in my high school last month! But mostly it’s because me and Mom’s new guy didn’t get on, so I’m back living with my dad instead. I’m supposed to stay here until I do the Leaving Cert. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stick it, though. My father’s driving me, like, up the walls.’

  ‘Are you still in touch with your mam?’

  Heather shook her head sharply.

  ‘No. I don’t need her. She made her choice. She . . .’

  But she had lost her audience. Eileen’s head had dipped onto her chest and suddenly Heather saw a tear splash onto the ground.

  ‘Hey – what’s wrong? Come on – it’s not that sad!’

  But Heather’s attempt to make her laugh went unheard as Eileen stubbed her cigarette out, then ground the balls of her hands into her eyes.

  ‘At least you have a mother. Mine is dying.’

  Her voice cracked on the final word and Heather bit her lip.

  ‘Ah, shit. Is that why—?’

  Heather stretched out her arm to encompass the car park, St Ferdia’s and the drinking that Eileen clearly wasn’t used to.

  ‘I thought you got wasted because some kid dumped you, or something.’

  ‘No.’

  Eileen sniffed.

  ‘No. Mam has cancer. She was only diagnosed a few months ago but they say it won’t be long. We’ve been looking after her at home, my dad and me. But she went into the hospice yesterday and he told me I needed a night out – you know, to get away? I don’t think this is quite what he meant, though.’

  Heather gave Eileen’s hand a squeeze. For a second she wished there was an adult around to tell her what to do, what to say. It seemed like such a grown-up situation. But there was only her.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’

  Eileen didn’t respond. Heather reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Coke, made dangerous with whiskey she’d found in her dad’s sitting room.

  ‘Don’t suppose you want any more of this?’

  Eileen shuddered

  ‘God, no – but don’t let me stop you.’

  Heather took a large swig and enjoyed the blaze of the alcohol as it went down. She hadn’t pla
nned on getting drunk so early. This guy she was due to meet had promised her a joint and she wanted to appreciate it. But she needed to be closer to Eileen and getting a little bit loaded seemed the easiest way to do that.

  Eileen was crying again, talking as much to herself as to Heather.

  ‘I’m trying to hold it together but, come on, I’m only in fifth year. I’m supposed to be studying for my exams and worrying about my spots or something. Not this.’

  Heather hesitated, then put her arm around the other girl’s shoulders and hugged her tight.

  Eileen was sobbing again, her words blurred by emotion and alcohol.

  ‘I feel like such an eejit! I cannot believe I got off with Stephen Kavanagh – I don’t even like him. And he’s been going out with Debbie for weeks. But he came over and started talking to me while she was in the loo and, I just thought – oh, I don’t know what I thought. I was drunk and I wanted to do something mad for a minute, forget about everything. It’ll be all over the school on Monday. She’ll kill me. Just what I need.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’

  Heather released her grip slightly.

  ‘You might get away with it. Your mom’s dying. It would take one hell of a bitch to beat up on you while all that’s going on.’

  There was a pause in which Heather held her breath, wondering if she’d disastrously misjudged the other girl. Then Eileen gave a half gasp, half giggle.

  ‘You’re right, you know. I reckon tragedy of this proportion lets you shift at least two people’s boyfriends without them saying anything at all. What does Sister Catherine say? “There’s a time and a place for everything, girls.”’

  Her impersonation was furred by vodka, but accurate enough to make both girls collapse in giggles.

  ‘“Neither a borrower nor a lender be, Eileen Delaney, but I think in this case we can make an exception!”’

  Heather’s impersonation of their former head nun was much worse than Eileen’s, but at least the other girl had stopped crying now and accepted a slug of whiskey and Coke.

  Then she looked at Heather directly.

  ‘Does it get better? You say you don’t talk to your mother any more – does it get better? Is it okay, being without her? Being without your mam?’

  Heather took another large swallow, then put the bottle on the ground.

  ‘Seriously? Missing your mom doesn’t go away. But it changes, you know? Some days you wake up in the morning and it hits you and you start, I don’t know, crying or some shit. Then other days you wake up and you realize you’ve made it through to breakfast without, like, totally losing it. It doesn’t go away and I can’t compare what I went through to what you’re going through. But if you’re asking me does it get better? Yeah, it does. My mom isn’t dead but I never see her. That’s tough, but it’s bearable. Some days you hear some kid talking about how her mom is, like, driving her crazy,’ she made inverted commas in the air, ‘and you want to kill her because at least she has a mother. And then some days you find yourself watching something stupid on TV and laughing and not thinking about it at all and— Look, it’s not brilliant. But some days it’s okay.’

  Eileen nodded slowly.

  ‘I can live with that, I suppose.’

  They fell silent, then jumped as the engine of the car in front of them spluttered into life. Two more beams of light shot across the car park and Heather checked her watch.

  ‘They’ll all be coming out in a minute.’

  Eileen winced.

  ‘My dad gave me money for a taxi. I’m supposed to call one from inside, but I think I’ll walk for a little while, clear my head. Do you want to share one?’

  Heather shook her head.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m okay. I’m thinking of heading into town actually. Go to, like, a real club?’

  Eileen’s eyes widened.

  ‘It’s after eleven. Will there be anywhere open?’

  Heather grinned.

  ‘Ah, Eileen. We’ll have to educate you, lady. There’s more to life than St Ferdia’s, you know!’

  She opened her bag and showed the other girl the pills in the small plastic packet. She’d procured them after no small amount of research the previous evening.

  ‘I have two. You could come with me. This won’t make the bad stuff go away, but we could have one hell of an evening!’

  Eileen paused, considering, then stifled a yawn.

  ‘Thanks, but not tonight. I’m only fit for my bed.’

  She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but the car park was filling up now, excited teenage chatter vibrating in the night air. The car that had been parked in front of them pulled away, three blonde heads bent together in the back seat, and the impression of intimacy that had surrounded them dissipated into the night air.

  Heather stood up.

  ‘Well, see you, then.’

  Town would be fun. The guy she was going to hook up with had given her the name of a couple of decent clubs and she had ID from, of all places, a youth group in Manhattan that no one was going to argue with. She might even nip back inside St Ferdia’s first, see what time that cute bouncer got off work. She smiled at Eileen.

  ‘Do you still have my dad’s number? It hasn’t changed.’

  Eileen nodded.

  ‘It’ll be written in the book at home.’

  ‘Cool. Well . . .’

  Heather pulled on her backpack, suddenly aware of how young Eileen looked, how lame the car park felt, the whole scene. She straightened and gave a half-wave.

  ‘Give me a shout, okay? If you need, like, a chat or anything.’

  Eileen smiled.

  ‘Sure. I will.’

  Unsure of how to end the conversation, Heather walked away through the now crowded car park, the girls giggling about their conquests, the boys looking like they’d rather be anywhere but there.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘His name was Alan. Alan Delaney. I chose Alan because I thought it sounded strong, you know? And not too Irish. I didn’t want anything too Irish. I wanted a name that would let him travel the world. I wanted him to own the world. And Delaney because I gave him my name. He didn’t need another. He didn’t need a father. I didn’t need a partner. We had each other. It was enough.’

  Still staring at the skylight, Claire listened carefully as the women talked. They must have been sitting quite close to the door, she reckoned, near enough for her to be able to hear their conversation clearly, even though the doctor was saying little other than ‘Uh-huh’ and ‘Mmm’. She seemed to have slipped back into professional mode. She was drawing the other woman out, getting her to tell her story. For Claire’s benefit, quite possibly. The doctor, an intelligent woman, was buying her time. But Claire still wasn’t sure how best to use it.

  The intruder, Eileen, was still talking about her son: ‘I only had him for seventeen years. Seventeen years. It’s nothing, really, is it, in the scheme of things? But I loved every minute of it. People give out all the time about how hard babies are, how hard it is being a mother. I never did. Alan was everything I ever wanted. Do you understand that? Do you?’

  ‘I was so sorry to hear what had happened. We all were.’

  This time, the doctor’s calm tones provoked the other woman.

  ‘To hell with you and your sorry.’

  Slap. The blow sounded more forceful this time and the doctor moaned. Jesus. Claire shook her head. She couldn’t let this go on for much longer. She was going to have to do something, rap on the door, force her way out there. But the woman Eileen sounded on the brink of hysteria and she had a weapon. If surprised, if panicked, there was every likelihood that she would fire wildly.

  She moved away from the door again and looked up at the skylight directly above her head. The room she was standing in was tall and narrow and the window was about a metre out of her rea
ch. Moving slowly and silently – replicating the movements, she realized, that she used when creeping out of Anna’s room at night – she walked across the toilet, picked up the nappy bin and carried it into the centre of the floor. Anna was still sound asleep, her chest moving gently up and down, her eyelids giving the occasional flutter. She had stretched her arms upwards, and held her hands in loose fists by her cheeks. It was her default position of deepest sleep and Claire paused to gaze at her. Stay there, darling girl. Don’t move. Then Claire put one hand on the sink and one foot on the bin and hauled herself up. She felt a moment of terror as she wondered if the bin would collapse under her, or creak, then blissful relief as it became apparent it would hold. She drew the other foot up, and unfurled her spine until she was standing as tall as she could. The window was still too far away; there was no way she’d be able to climb out of it, and there was nothing on the wall that would help her grab a foothold. But the opening handle was now just within her reach.

  She reached out one hand, wobbled, then grabbed the handle. It was stuck. She pulled at it gently, then gave it a push. Nothing moved. She pushed harder. Still no movement. The voices in the other room were growing louder – Eileen seemed to be losing patience. Claire pushed harder. Still no movement. If she used more force she would make a noise, wake Anna and alert Eileen to her presence. Claire pushed again, and then, just as she was about to give up, she heard a quiet sound, almost like a sigh and the window opened. Claire closed her eyes as fresh air flowed over her face, air from the outside world. There was an outside, and surely she’d find help there.

  By raising herself onto her toes she found she could look out of the window into the small disused yard at the back of the building, then beyond it, directly onto the street outside. But that road was deserted, apart from one car, which drove by too quickly for her to catch the driver’s attention. The surgery was located in a converted residential house at the end of a strip of shops and next door was a takeaway that didn’t open until evening. Claire swore softly. She couldn’t think of a worse place from which to attract attention.