Uncle, granddad, aunt and cousin. Aunt, cousin, granddad, uncle.
Upright and her head spun. She waded, pushed her way through to the bathroom. Like trying to run in a dream. Like the blankets still covered her. She felt brittle, sluggish, but her heart was going fast, fluttering.
She stood under the shower. The water ran over her until it ran cold. She bent to turn off the taps, then stepped stiffly out of the bath. There was a towel. She pulled it round her shoulders, slumped down on the tiles, dragging it over her skin. Underneath her breasts, on her ribcage, a few pale soft hairs, like baby hair, were growing. She hadn’t noticed them before. She gripped one between her thumbnail and her finger. It came out easily, and didn’t hurt. She grew cold watching the goosepimples prickle her arm. The curve of her upper arm was steep and round, the crook of her elbow a fold in moorland.
The electricity bill was open on the dining-room table. A note in Grainne’s big round handwriting.
Asap, please. This is the reminder
. Claire leaned over it, rubbed her face.
I fucked your boyfriend.
Claire brought the biscuit to her mouth, bit it. The shortbread was thick and sticky in her mouth; she couldn’t swallow. She looked down at her teacup, blew unnecessarily on the liquid, watched a shower of spit and crumbs land in her tea. She couldn’t drink it anyway. Grainne had put milk in it.
“But you should. You should take some time off and enjoy yourself. Can’t be any fun at all watching the rest of the world get drunk every night. Let’s face it, it’s your turn. You’ve cleared up after everyone else often enough. Come out on the tear. Get pissed. Snog a stranger. Do you good.”
I fucked your boyfriend. His mouth was on my breasts. His hands nearly met around my waist.
“Don’t you think? I’ll get Paul to bring along some of the ones from work. And there’s Jim and Colm from school. We’ll bring the lot of them. You can have your pick.”
But I fucked your boyfriend. His skin smelt like treacle toffee. Sweet and smoky. When he came, he closed his eyes, but mine were open. I fucked your boyfriend.
“I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me. I didn’t think. It’s Alan, isn’t it? I know how you must feel. It’s not easy, getting over something like that. Alan’s such a lovely bloke. And you two had so much in common.”
Claire looked up. Grainne’s eyes were clear. Paler than she remembered. You don’t have a clue what I’m like, she realised, not a clue. And if you’d just ask, just the once, I’d try and tell you.
“I do know how you feel. When I split up with Sean, I thought it was the end of the world. But it wasn’t, was it? IfI hadn’t broken up with him, I wouldn’t be going out with Paul now, would I? And when it comes down to it, that’s the most important thing. You never know, your Paul might be waiting just around the corner. Did I tell you he phoned me in Armagh? He never usually does. And to tell you the truth …”
Claire took another bite of her biscuit. Her mouth felt gluey. She tried to smile.
“What are you having?”
“Gin and tonic.”
“Right.”
And that was it. All he had said to her. Hours ago now. Claire squinted at her watch. Half eleven. Hours ago.
At least they weren’t at Conroys. She lifted her glass to her lips, drank. The glass seemed uneven, unbalanced, slightly slippery. She couldn’t taste the gin. Her head felt as if it had been hollowed out and filled up. Her ears had been plugged. She squinted at Jim, who seemed nice, and tried to work out what he was saying. It was too noisy. She had lost the thread ages ago. He looked quite distant, much further than a tabletop away. He looked like he might be on a TV screen, slightly out of focus, slightly grainy. She reached out towards him. Her hand touched cotton; beneath it, his arm was warm. She let her hand rest there. It was quite reassuring. It seemed to anchor her.
Grainne had, she thought, been
Upright and her head spun. She waded, pushed her way through to the bathroom. Like trying to run in a dream. Like the blankets still covered her. She felt brittle, sluggish, but her heart was going fast, fluttering.
She stood under the shower. The water ran over her until it ran cold. She bent to turn off the taps, then stepped stiffly out of the bath. There was a towel. She pulled it round her shoulders, slumped down on the tiles, dragging it over her skin. Underneath her breasts, on her ribcage, a few pale soft hairs, like baby hair, were growing. She hadn’t noticed them before. She gripped one between her thumbnail and her finger. It came out easily, and didn’t hurt. She grew cold watching the goosepimples prickle her arm. The curve of her upper arm was steep and round, the crook of her elbow a fold in moorland.
The electricity bill was open on the dining-room table. A note in Grainne’s big round handwriting.
Asap, please. This is the reminder
. Claire leaned over it, rubbed her face.
I fucked your boyfriend.
Claire brought the biscuit to her mouth, bit it. The shortbread was thick and sticky in her mouth; she couldn’t swallow. She looked down at her teacup, blew unnecessarily on the liquid, watched a shower of spit and crumbs land in her tea. She couldn’t drink it anyway. Grainne had put milk in it.
“But you should. You should take some time off and enjoy yourself. Can’t be any fun at all watching the rest of the world get drunk every night. Let’s face it, it’s your turn. You’ve cleared up after everyone else often enough. Come out on the tear. Get pissed. Snog a stranger. Do you good.”
I fucked your boyfriend. His mouth was on my breasts. His hands nearly met around my waist.
“Don’t you think? I’ll get Paul to bring along some of the ones from work. And there’s Jim and Colm from school. We’ll bring the lot of them. You can have your pick.”
But I fucked your boyfriend. His skin smelt like treacle toffee. Sweet and smoky. When he came, he closed his eyes, but mine were open. I fucked your boyfriend.
“I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me. I didn’t think. It’s Alan, isn’t it? I know how you must feel. It’s not easy, getting over something like that. Alan’s such a lovely bloke. And you two had so much in common.”
Claire looked up. Grainne’s eyes were clear. Paler than she remembered. You don’t have a clue what I’m like, she realised, not a clue. And if you’d just ask, just the once, I’d try and tell you.
“I do know how you feel. When I split up with Sean, I thought it was the end of the world. But it wasn’t, was it? IfI hadn’t broken up with him, I wouldn’t be going out with Paul now, would I? And when it comes down to it, that’s the most important thing. You never know, your Paul might be waiting just around the corner. Did I tell you he phoned me in Armagh? He never usually does. And to tell you the truth …”
Claire took another bite of her biscuit. Her mouth felt gluey. She tried to smile.
“What are you having?”
“Gin and tonic.”
“Right.”
And that was it. All he had said to her. Hours ago now. Claire squinted at her watch. Half eleven. Hours ago.
At least they weren’t at Conroys. She lifted her glass to her lips, drank. The glass seemed uneven, unbalanced, slightly slippery. She couldn’t taste the gin. Her head felt as if it had been hollowed out and filled up. Her ears had been plugged. She squinted at Jim, who seemed nice, and tried to work out what he was saying. It was too noisy. She had lost the thread ages ago. He looked quite distant, much further than a tabletop away. He looked like he might be on a TV screen, slightly out of focus, slightly grainy. She reached out towards him. Her hand touched cotton; beneath it, his arm was warm. She let her hand rest there. It was quite reassuring. It seemed to anchor her.
Grainne had, she thought, been
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