Rachel's Holiday
Page 104
‘It is true,’ Luke bit angrily. Oh fuck. I had no choice but to shut up and let Brigit continue.
‘… and she kept trying to get me to go out with one of Luke’s friends, any of Luke’s friends, because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stand up to people like Helenka, on her own. She didn’t care that I wasn’t suited to any of Luke’s friends, she was too focused on herself. She just tried to play God with the lives of the people around her…
‘… she even put on a New York accent when she was around people she wanted to impress. “Whatever”, and “As if”, and all that kind of thing…’
But I wasn’t really listening. I was too shaken by Luke’s anger. He was usually such a lovely person, especially to me. It was all weird and peculiar – he looked just like Luke Costello, the man who’d been my best friend, my lover for six months. But he was acting like a stranger. Worse, like an enemy.
‘Let’s look at another aspect of Rachel,’ Josephine cut into my thoughts. She wanted to discuss my career. I had a wild urge to screech ‘Do you want to know what colour my knickers are?’
‘Rachel’s bright,’ Josephine said to Brigit. ‘Why do you think she didn’t have a job that used her abilities?’
‘Maybe because it’s hard to hang onto a decent job when your major occupation is taking drugs,’ Brigit said. ‘Besides, she thinks she’s thick.’
‘You’ve a good job, haven’t you?’ Josephine asked.
‘Er, yes,’ she admitted, startled.
‘You’ve a degree, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘In business studies?’
‘Er, yes.’
‘You’ve travelled to London, Edinburgh, Prague and New York doing work experience towards your degree and Rachel has basically followed you, isn’t that right?’ Josephine asked.
‘I wouldn’t say she followed me,’ Brigit said. ‘But, as I was going to those places, and she was bored with Dublin, she decided to come too.’
‘And all the time you progressed in your career and Rachel achieved nothing?’
‘I suppose,’ Brigit admitted.
I felt worthless, like a stupid little lapdog.
‘It’s nice to be with someone who isn’t as successful as oneself,’ Josephine mused, as if she was just thinking out loud. ‘The contrast is very heartening.’
‘I… but…’ Brigit looked confused and tried to say something, but Josephine had already moved on.
The session eventually dragged itself to its tortuous end. Josephine said Luke would be on after lunch, then ushered Luke and Brigit out to the staff dining-room. It humiliated me further that they were going to the ‘normal person’s’ quarters. I deeply resented being marginalized, being treated like a looper.
As they left the room, I noticed Luke place his hand protectively in the small of Brigit’s back. Although there was nothing small about Brigit’s back, I thought, bitchiness keeping the agony at bay.
Once they’d disappeared from view, I was filled with a terrible bleakness. Where was Luke gone? Where could I find him? I wanted him to put his arms around me and pull me against his chest. I wanted comfort, the way it used to be.
I entertained a mad fantasy of breaking into the staff rooms and engineering a meeting with him. Surely if we spoke calmly he’d see that he still cared about me? He’d cared so much about me once it was inconceivable it had entirely gone away. Then all this madness could stop.
For a moment it seemed entirely feasible, perfectly possible. Briefly the future seemed full of redemption. Then I came to my senses. It wasn’t feasible at all.
The inmates swarmed over me, offering sympathy and compassion.
‘Look,’ I was desperate to defend myself, ‘you’ve got to understand that what Brigit said wasn’t really about me at all. She exaggerated it by miles because she’s got this new job, see? They’d go mad if they knew she took drugs. And you’d want to see the amount of drugs she takes. She taught me everything I know.’ I forced a laugh and waited for Mike and the others to join in. They didn’t, just patted me and made soothing noises.
I couldn’t eat a single thing at lunch. Instead, I prayed as I had never prayed before. I did all manner of frantic negotiating with God. A life in the missions if he would either visit a terrible calamity on Luke or, miles better, bring about a reunion with him. But I’d stitched God up in a couple of deals in the past and maybe he didn’t want to do business with me.
About ten minutes before group kicked off for the afternoon’s star attraction, a wave of nausea rolled over me, darkening my vision. Eagerly, I hoped that this presaged my imminent death.
I lurched along to the bathroom, hugging the wall because I could hardly see the floor for all the black patches swimming before my eyes. But as soon as I threw up, I felt OK again. Certainly not about to pass my expiry date. Bitter was my disappointment.
53
Before I knew it I was sitting in a chair in the Abbot’s Quarter – I had been allowed one of the good seats out of sympathy for my predicament – and Luke was due any minute.
Maybe he wouldn’t be mean to me, I thought with a blast of hope that nearly sent me into orbit. Maybe when it comes to it, he just won’t be able to be cruel. After all, Luke had been my boyfriend, he’d been mad about me. Surely he still cared? Surely he wouldn’t hurt me?
Wasn’t this the man who had made hot-water bottles for me every month when I got my period, a man who hadn’t been afraid to buy what we’d called my ‘feminine hygiene products’ for me?
Once again, for the merest split-second I fantasized about Luke and me getting back together. About us returning together to New York and closing the door on this horrible episode.
Then I remembered how terrible the Brigit session had been, that the vote from the Costello jury wasn’t likely to be any better. I felt sick with dread again.
I prayed and prayed to be spared, but, at two o’clock on the dot, Luke, Brigit and Josephine all trooped in and sat down. When I saw Luke I got that infinitesimal rush of joy, the way I had in the morning. He was so sexy and handsome, big and mine. Then I saw his grim, cold expression and remembered that things were very different now.
The session started. I could sense the excited squirming of the other inmates. They’d probably knitted at the guillotine in a former life, I thought in disgust, omitting to remember that I’d been all agog when their ISOs had come abitching.
‘… and she kept trying to get me to go out with one of Luke’s friends, any of Luke’s friends, because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stand up to people like Helenka, on her own. She didn’t care that I wasn’t suited to any of Luke’s friends, she was too focused on herself. She just tried to play God with the lives of the people around her…
‘… she even put on a New York accent when she was around people she wanted to impress. “Whatever”, and “As if”, and all that kind of thing…’
But I wasn’t really listening. I was too shaken by Luke’s anger. He was usually such a lovely person, especially to me. It was all weird and peculiar – he looked just like Luke Costello, the man who’d been my best friend, my lover for six months. But he was acting like a stranger. Worse, like an enemy.
‘Let’s look at another aspect of Rachel,’ Josephine cut into my thoughts. She wanted to discuss my career. I had a wild urge to screech ‘Do you want to know what colour my knickers are?’
‘Rachel’s bright,’ Josephine said to Brigit. ‘Why do you think she didn’t have a job that used her abilities?’
‘Maybe because it’s hard to hang onto a decent job when your major occupation is taking drugs,’ Brigit said. ‘Besides, she thinks she’s thick.’
‘You’ve a good job, haven’t you?’ Josephine asked.
‘Er, yes,’ she admitted, startled.
‘You’ve a degree, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘In business studies?’
‘Er, yes.’
‘You’ve travelled to London, Edinburgh, Prague and New York doing work experience towards your degree and Rachel has basically followed you, isn’t that right?’ Josephine asked.
‘I wouldn’t say she followed me,’ Brigit said. ‘But, as I was going to those places, and she was bored with Dublin, she decided to come too.’
‘And all the time you progressed in your career and Rachel achieved nothing?’
‘I suppose,’ Brigit admitted.
I felt worthless, like a stupid little lapdog.
‘It’s nice to be with someone who isn’t as successful as oneself,’ Josephine mused, as if she was just thinking out loud. ‘The contrast is very heartening.’
‘I… but…’ Brigit looked confused and tried to say something, but Josephine had already moved on.
The session eventually dragged itself to its tortuous end. Josephine said Luke would be on after lunch, then ushered Luke and Brigit out to the staff dining-room. It humiliated me further that they were going to the ‘normal person’s’ quarters. I deeply resented being marginalized, being treated like a looper.
As they left the room, I noticed Luke place his hand protectively in the small of Brigit’s back. Although there was nothing small about Brigit’s back, I thought, bitchiness keeping the agony at bay.
Once they’d disappeared from view, I was filled with a terrible bleakness. Where was Luke gone? Where could I find him? I wanted him to put his arms around me and pull me against his chest. I wanted comfort, the way it used to be.
I entertained a mad fantasy of breaking into the staff rooms and engineering a meeting with him. Surely if we spoke calmly he’d see that he still cared about me? He’d cared so much about me once it was inconceivable it had entirely gone away. Then all this madness could stop.
For a moment it seemed entirely feasible, perfectly possible. Briefly the future seemed full of redemption. Then I came to my senses. It wasn’t feasible at all.
The inmates swarmed over me, offering sympathy and compassion.
‘Look,’ I was desperate to defend myself, ‘you’ve got to understand that what Brigit said wasn’t really about me at all. She exaggerated it by miles because she’s got this new job, see? They’d go mad if they knew she took drugs. And you’d want to see the amount of drugs she takes. She taught me everything I know.’ I forced a laugh and waited for Mike and the others to join in. They didn’t, just patted me and made soothing noises.
I couldn’t eat a single thing at lunch. Instead, I prayed as I had never prayed before. I did all manner of frantic negotiating with God. A life in the missions if he would either visit a terrible calamity on Luke or, miles better, bring about a reunion with him. But I’d stitched God up in a couple of deals in the past and maybe he didn’t want to do business with me.
About ten minutes before group kicked off for the afternoon’s star attraction, a wave of nausea rolled over me, darkening my vision. Eagerly, I hoped that this presaged my imminent death.
I lurched along to the bathroom, hugging the wall because I could hardly see the floor for all the black patches swimming before my eyes. But as soon as I threw up, I felt OK again. Certainly not about to pass my expiry date. Bitter was my disappointment.
53
Before I knew it I was sitting in a chair in the Abbot’s Quarter – I had been allowed one of the good seats out of sympathy for my predicament – and Luke was due any minute.
Maybe he wouldn’t be mean to me, I thought with a blast of hope that nearly sent me into orbit. Maybe when it comes to it, he just won’t be able to be cruel. After all, Luke had been my boyfriend, he’d been mad about me. Surely he still cared? Surely he wouldn’t hurt me?
Wasn’t this the man who had made hot-water bottles for me every month when I got my period, a man who hadn’t been afraid to buy what we’d called my ‘feminine hygiene products’ for me?
Once again, for the merest split-second I fantasized about Luke and me getting back together. About us returning together to New York and closing the door on this horrible episode.
Then I remembered how terrible the Brigit session had been, that the vote from the Costello jury wasn’t likely to be any better. I felt sick with dread again.
I prayed and prayed to be spared, but, at two o’clock on the dot, Luke, Brigit and Josephine all trooped in and sat down. When I saw Luke I got that infinitesimal rush of joy, the way I had in the morning. He was so sexy and handsome, big and mine. Then I saw his grim, cold expression and remembered that things were very different now.
The session started. I could sense the excited squirming of the other inmates. They’d probably knitted at the guillotine in a former life, I thought in disgust, omitting to remember that I’d been all agog when their ISOs had come abitching.
