message had been sent, her stomach somersaulted. Regret instantly surfaced.
"Too late now, wee girl. Stephen's coming over tonight. Better scrub up if you don't want to scare him away."
In the bedroom, she sat at her hand-me-down mahogany dressing table and examined herself in her round makeup mirror. It magnified her insecurities to five times their normal size. An inch of dark roots offset lank, peroxide blonde hair. She frowned at her crow's feet and eye luggage. The lines running from the corners of her mouth to her chin had deepened. Was her nose bigger? How could her nose be growing? Why did Stephen want to see her again, anyway? He had to be at least five years younger than her. She'd been upfront about Joe, and what a nightmare he was. Stephen played football and had the muscles to prove it. She had stretchmarks and a saggy belly. He earned an honest living as a joiner. She did the double at a shitty bakery.
Had he just spotted an easy ride? She shouldn't have texted him. He only said he'd come back to make leaving this morning less awkward.
Her mobile beeped and buzzed. Stephen's text message confirmed he'd see her at nine. Hours away, but she felt panicked by the deadline.
Drink! She thought. I want a drink.
She needed to get something in to offer Stephen anyway. He'd said he would bring food and a film. He hadn't mentioned alcohol. He'd think it odd if she had nothing to offer. Makeup later. Drink now. It'd soften her self criticisms.
On her way to the off licence on the Falls Road, Louise spotted some of Joe's friends. Liam Greene and the Fegan twins. The three of them smoked cigarettes at the bus shelter close to the Beechmount Avenue entrance. The cancer-sticks looked ridiculously long in their pubescent paws. They didn't even have the decency to hide their fags when she waved at them.
"Hiya, Missus Phillips," Liam said, when she was within talking distance.
"Hi, Liam." She nodded to the twins. "Boys."
The non-identical Fegan twins nodded back. As usual, they'd been dressed to match by their mummy, from their baseball caps to their Reebok runners. Geeks.
"Have any of you been talking to our Joe today?" she asked.
"No. We haven't seen him since Saturday." Liam curved his mouth in a smile his own mother would like to slap. "I thought he was grounded. Because of the state we were all in on Saturday night. Did he get away with it?" The twins sniggered. Cigarette smoke blasted from their nostrils.
You're a sly wee bastard, aren't you? Louise thought. She smiled back at him. "Joe and I have an understanding. If he doesn't fall through the door, he's not in trouble. He's a lot bigger than you other boys. He can handle his drink better."
Liam's grin faded. He looked away from Louise.
There was no such arrangement, but she couldn't resist spoiling Liam's fun. She'd talk to Joe about sensible drinking when things cooled down between them.
"Will you tell Joe I'm looking for him if you see him, Liam? I think his phone battery must be dead. I keep getting his answer machine."
"No problem, Missus Phillips." The cockiness had left his voice.
She got about two yards up the road when one of them wolf-whistled. She glanced over her shoulder.
"It was him," they said in unison, each one pointing to another.
"Whatever," she said, wishing she hadn't given them the satisfaction.
She bought three tins of Harp lager, a bottle of Kulov vodka and a big bottle of Coke. She poured herself a generous vodka and Coke as soon as she got back to the house. A few gulps had her topped up from the previous night's session and her mood improved. She turned on the radio in her bedroom and slapped on her face as she sang pop songs and drank. Drinking and singing while she got dolled up used to be her favourite part of going out with her mates. It'd been a while since she'd done it, but its familiarity and simplicity soothed her. The backtrack loop of guilt that had tortured her since hitting Joe the day before finally packed it in.
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