Read Online The One I Love by Anna McPartlin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna McPartlin
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and thanked her once more for coming. “It meant so much to Breda.”
She told him she’d be in touch the following week with an update about the exhibition. He nodded and she got out of the car. She closed the gate behind her and waved. He drove off and she made her way up the steps of her house. She could hear Bing Crosby singing “You Are My Sun-shine”, punctuated by laughter and chat from her mother’s basement flat. She didn’t stop to say hello. Instead she went inside, took off her shoes, which were pretty but painful, poured herself a whiskey and took it to bed.
When the clock turned midnight Elle toasted the sky. She spun around the beach in bare feet with a bottle of vodka pressed to her chest. When she stopped spinning she fell onto her arse, still managing to hold onto the bottle. She got up as quickly as a drunkard can and sprayed some alcohol on the fire so that the flames danced higher and higher. The car engine had already exploded so now she and a homelessman, who called himself Buns, watched the shell burn out. She sat beside him and clinked her bottle against his.
“Happy New Year, Buns!”
“Happy New Year, my dear!”
They sat in silence, listening to the flames crackle and the low hush of the sea as it swept in and out. Elle lit a cigarette and passed it to him. He refused with a wave of his hands. “Those things will kill you.”
She laughed a little. “Sleeping on a pavement in December will kill you quicker.”
“Ah, well, it’s January now, so roll on spring!” He took a slug from the bottle of vodka the strange girl had bought for him. “Vincent must be a right bastard,” he said, after a minute or two.
“Depends who you ask,” she said, getting up and dancing around again.
“How much would you say that car cost?” he asked.
“Around forty grand.” She could have answered with a precise figure if she had wished to as she had bought Vincent the car.
“Jesus. He’ll be sorry he messed with you.”
She smiled. “That’s the hope.”
They both heard the police sirens. Buns drained his bottle dry before the cops could take his booze off him. Elle continued to dance to the music she could hear in her head. The police approached them cautiously but Elle smiled and waved them over as though they were at a party and she was asking them to join in. Once they had established that Elle had stolen her ex-boyfriend’s car and burned it out they put her and Buns, who happily claimed to have been a willing accessory, in the back of the car. Buns was delighted hewould have a night inside or even two if he was lucky – he’d seen the weather forecast in the window of Dixons electrical shop and the temperature was set to fall below zero.
Elle was focused on the sights, sounds and smells around her. Everything seemed so vivid; she was giddy, high on revenge and adventure. The city moved quickly past the window and the siren pealed, not because there was an emergency, just to get through the drunkards on the streets. The car smelt of disinfectant and she breathed in deeply. Buns smelt of something else entirely, a little sweat, a little oil, a little damp and a little puke, and still she inhaled and smiled as though it was the sweetest perfume.
“I’ve never been in a jail cell,” she said, excited by the notion. “I’ve always wondered about it.”
The female guard looked over her shoulder. “Well, you won’t have to wonder any more.”
“True.” Elle smiled to herself.
Jane woke with a start. Kurt was standing above her with his hand on her shoulder, shaking her. “Mum, Mum, Mum!”
She bolted upright in the bed. “Kurt?” She looked at the clock beside her bed, which read 4:10 a.m. “What the hell?”
“It’s Elle. She’s been arrested.”
Jane stared at her son blankly; the words that had come from his mouth seemed to have lost their meaning. “Excuse me?”
“Sit up,” he ordered, and she noticed he was slurring but at that moment her teenage
She told him she’d be in touch the following week with an update about the exhibition. He nodded and she got out of the car. She closed the gate behind her and waved. He drove off and she made her way up the steps of her house. She could hear Bing Crosby singing “You Are My Sun-shine”, punctuated by laughter and chat from her mother’s basement flat. She didn’t stop to say hello. Instead she went inside, took off her shoes, which were pretty but painful, poured herself a whiskey and took it to bed.
When the clock turned midnight Elle toasted the sky. She spun around the beach in bare feet with a bottle of vodka pressed to her chest. When she stopped spinning she fell onto her arse, still managing to hold onto the bottle. She got up as quickly as a drunkard can and sprayed some alcohol on the fire so that the flames danced higher and higher. The car engine had already exploded so now she and a homelessman, who called himself Buns, watched the shell burn out. She sat beside him and clinked her bottle against his.
“Happy New Year, Buns!”
“Happy New Year, my dear!”
They sat in silence, listening to the flames crackle and the low hush of the sea as it swept in and out. Elle lit a cigarette and passed it to him. He refused with a wave of his hands. “Those things will kill you.”
She laughed a little. “Sleeping on a pavement in December will kill you quicker.”
“Ah, well, it’s January now, so roll on spring!” He took a slug from the bottle of vodka the strange girl had bought for him. “Vincent must be a right bastard,” he said, after a minute or two.
“Depends who you ask,” she said, getting up and dancing around again.
“How much would you say that car cost?” he asked.
“Around forty grand.” She could have answered with a precise figure if she had wished to as she had bought Vincent the car.
“Jesus. He’ll be sorry he messed with you.”
She smiled. “That’s the hope.”
They both heard the police sirens. Buns drained his bottle dry before the cops could take his booze off him. Elle continued to dance to the music she could hear in her head. The police approached them cautiously but Elle smiled and waved them over as though they were at a party and she was asking them to join in. Once they had established that Elle had stolen her ex-boyfriend’s car and burned it out they put her and Buns, who happily claimed to have been a willing accessory, in the back of the car. Buns was delighted hewould have a night inside or even two if he was lucky – he’d seen the weather forecast in the window of Dixons electrical shop and the temperature was set to fall below zero.
Elle was focused on the sights, sounds and smells around her. Everything seemed so vivid; she was giddy, high on revenge and adventure. The city moved quickly past the window and the siren pealed, not because there was an emergency, just to get through the drunkards on the streets. The car smelt of disinfectant and she breathed in deeply. Buns smelt of something else entirely, a little sweat, a little oil, a little damp and a little puke, and still she inhaled and smiled as though it was the sweetest perfume.
“I’ve never been in a jail cell,” she said, excited by the notion. “I’ve always wondered about it.”
The female guard looked over her shoulder. “Well, you won’t have to wonder any more.”
“True.” Elle smiled to herself.
Jane woke with a start. Kurt was standing above her with his hand on her shoulder, shaking her. “Mum, Mum, Mum!”
She bolted upright in the bed. “Kurt?” She looked at the clock beside her bed, which read 4:10 a.m. “What the hell?”
“It’s Elle. She’s been arrested.”
Jane stared at her son blankly; the words that had come from his mouth seemed to have lost their meaning. “Excuse me?”
“Sit up,” he ordered, and she noticed he was slurring but at that moment her teenage
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