Rachel's Holiday
Page 53
‘If I’m not home in ten minutes, she’s going to ring the police,’ I told him. That made me feel better.
Briefly.
Surely he was going the wrong way?
I followed our route with my heart in my mouth.
Yes, he was. He was. We were going uptown and we should have been going downtown.
Once again I wanted to jump out. But every traffic light was green. And we were going too fast for me to signal to anyone but, in any case, the streets were empty.
Irresistibly drawn back to the mirror, I found he was still staring at me.
I was fucking done for, I realized with calm acceptance.
A few seconds later terror burst into flames within me.
Unable to bear any more, I rooted around in my bag for the Valium. Making sure he didn’t know what I was doing, I surreptitiously snapped back the lid and took out a couple. While I pretended to rub my face I got them into my mouth. And waited for the fear to leave me.
‘What number do you want?’ I heard my murderer say. When I looked out I realized I was nearly home. I was giddy with relief; he wasn’t going to murder me, after all!
‘Just here,’ I said.
‘We hadta go the long way round ‘coz they’re digging the street on Fifth,’ he said. ‘So take a coupla dollars off the meter.’
I thrust the full price at him, plus tip. (I wasn’t that strung out.) And I gratefully exited.
‘Hey, I know you,’ he exclaimed.
Oh oh. Whenever someone said that I was afraid. They usually remembered me because I’d made a show of myself. I never remembered them for exactly the same reason.
‘You woik in the Old Shillayleagh Hotel, right?’
‘Right.’ I nodded nervously.
‘Yeah, I knoo I knoo ya when ya got in, and I kept looking atcha, but I couldn’t remember from where. I see ya when I come in to the hotel to pick up a fare.’ He was all smiles. ‘You Irish? You sure look it with your black hair and your freckles. A proper colleen.’
‘Yes.’ I tried to force my rigid face to look pleasant.
‘Me thoo. My great-great-grand-daddy was from Cork. From Bantry Bay. You know it?’
‘Yes.’
‘McCarthy’s the name. Harvey McCarthy.’
‘Actually,’ I said in surprise. ‘McCarthy is a Cork name.’
‘So how you doin’?’ He was all set for a chat.
‘Fine,’ I mumbled. ‘But my room-mate, you know, I’d better…’
‘Yeah, sure, but take good care now, you heah!’
The apartment was like a scene from a rockumentary. Cans and bottles and overflowing ashtrays everywhere. A couple of people I didn’t know were asleep on the sofa. Another body was thrown on the floor. None of them stirred as I let myself in.
When I opened the fridge to put the cheese in, an avalanche of beer cans fell out around the kitchen floor making a ferocious racket. One of the sleeping bodies jerked and mumbled something that sounded like ‘Parsnips on the internet’, then all was quiet once more.
The Valium hadn’t made any impact on my paranoia so I spilled a few more into my hand and washed them down with a can of beer. I sat on the kitchen floor and waited to feel normal.
Eventually I thought I could face going to bed. When the emptiness took hold I hated going to bed alone. I opened another can of beer and went into my room. Where to my surprise there were two, no wait, three. No, one minute, four people already in my bed. I didn’t know any of them.
They were all men, but none of them looked attractive enough for me to bother climbing in with. Then I realized that they were the ‘Yo’girlfren’, what’s up?’ crew. Little bastards, I thought. The bloody cheek of them.
I tried pushing and poking to wake them up and get them out. But nothing doing.
So I crept into Brigit’s room. It smelt of alcohol and smoke. Sunlight was sneaking under the blinds and the room was already warm.
‘Hello,’ I whispered, sliding into bed beside her, ‘I stole you some cheese.’
‘Where did you go to with the coke?’ she murmured. ‘And you shouldn’t have left me to deal with this on my own.’
‘But I met a man,’ I explained quietly.
‘It’s not on, Rachel,’ she said, her eyes still closed. ‘Half that gram was mine. It wasn’t yours to take.’
My fear ripped wide open again. Brigit was cross with me. My free-floating paranoia had something concrete to hang on. I wished fiercely that I hadn’t left. Especially considering how fruitless the whole mission had been.
Mama.
Mama indeed.
Fucking headcase, I thought dismissively.
I hope he rings.
Brigit turned over and went on sleeping. But I could feel her anger. I didn’t want to be in her bed anymore, but I had no place else to go.
29
I was nearly sick with fear that the questionnaire might be read out in that morning’s group. Please God, I prayed. I’ll do anything you want, just let this cup pass from my lips.
The only thing was that the inmates seemed to be on my side, most of them anyway. When I went down to make the breakfasts, Don shouted ‘What do we WANT?’ And Stalin replied ‘Luke Costello’s bollix for earrings.’
Then Don shouted, his eyes bursting from his skull, ‘When do we want IT?’ And Stalin replied, ‘Now!’
And there were energetic variations of the theme all through breakfast. Among the things wanted were Luke Costello’s kneecaps for ashtrays, Luke Costello’s arse for a doormat, Luke Costello’s willy for a bracelet and, of course, Luke Costello’s bollix in an eggcup, for target practice, for golf-balls, to juggle with, to play marbles with and for gobstoppers.
I was deeply touched by their support. Of course, not everyone joined in. Mike didn’t, he just wore an unreadable expression on his granite-ugly face. Most of the older people who’d been there for more than a month looked on with mouths pursed in disapproval. Frederick, who had attained the grand age of six weeks, tutted and tisked and said ‘You shouldn’t be blaming anyone else, you should be looking to see what your part in all of this is.’ Then everyone who was on my side – Fergus, Chaquie, Vincent, John Joe, Eddie, Stalin, Peter, Davy the gambler, Eamonn and Barry the child all shouted ‘Ah, shut up.’ Even Neil did, although I was happy to do without his support.
I carefully watched Chris, desperate for a sign that he was still my friend, and I felt hurt when he didn’t say he wanted Luke’s balls for anything. But to my relief he didn’t seem to be allying himself with the self-righteous oldtimers either. And just as we were on our way to group – me feeling like I was going to face a firing squad – he grabbed me.
Briefly.
Surely he was going the wrong way?
I followed our route with my heart in my mouth.
Yes, he was. He was. We were going uptown and we should have been going downtown.
Once again I wanted to jump out. But every traffic light was green. And we were going too fast for me to signal to anyone but, in any case, the streets were empty.
Irresistibly drawn back to the mirror, I found he was still staring at me.
I was fucking done for, I realized with calm acceptance.
A few seconds later terror burst into flames within me.
Unable to bear any more, I rooted around in my bag for the Valium. Making sure he didn’t know what I was doing, I surreptitiously snapped back the lid and took out a couple. While I pretended to rub my face I got them into my mouth. And waited for the fear to leave me.
‘What number do you want?’ I heard my murderer say. When I looked out I realized I was nearly home. I was giddy with relief; he wasn’t going to murder me, after all!
‘Just here,’ I said.
‘We hadta go the long way round ‘coz they’re digging the street on Fifth,’ he said. ‘So take a coupla dollars off the meter.’
I thrust the full price at him, plus tip. (I wasn’t that strung out.) And I gratefully exited.
‘Hey, I know you,’ he exclaimed.
Oh oh. Whenever someone said that I was afraid. They usually remembered me because I’d made a show of myself. I never remembered them for exactly the same reason.
‘You woik in the Old Shillayleagh Hotel, right?’
‘Right.’ I nodded nervously.
‘Yeah, I knoo I knoo ya when ya got in, and I kept looking atcha, but I couldn’t remember from where. I see ya when I come in to the hotel to pick up a fare.’ He was all smiles. ‘You Irish? You sure look it with your black hair and your freckles. A proper colleen.’
‘Yes.’ I tried to force my rigid face to look pleasant.
‘Me thoo. My great-great-grand-daddy was from Cork. From Bantry Bay. You know it?’
‘Yes.’
‘McCarthy’s the name. Harvey McCarthy.’
‘Actually,’ I said in surprise. ‘McCarthy is a Cork name.’
‘So how you doin’?’ He was all set for a chat.
‘Fine,’ I mumbled. ‘But my room-mate, you know, I’d better…’
‘Yeah, sure, but take good care now, you heah!’
The apartment was like a scene from a rockumentary. Cans and bottles and overflowing ashtrays everywhere. A couple of people I didn’t know were asleep on the sofa. Another body was thrown on the floor. None of them stirred as I let myself in.
When I opened the fridge to put the cheese in, an avalanche of beer cans fell out around the kitchen floor making a ferocious racket. One of the sleeping bodies jerked and mumbled something that sounded like ‘Parsnips on the internet’, then all was quiet once more.
The Valium hadn’t made any impact on my paranoia so I spilled a few more into my hand and washed them down with a can of beer. I sat on the kitchen floor and waited to feel normal.
Eventually I thought I could face going to bed. When the emptiness took hold I hated going to bed alone. I opened another can of beer and went into my room. Where to my surprise there were two, no wait, three. No, one minute, four people already in my bed. I didn’t know any of them.
They were all men, but none of them looked attractive enough for me to bother climbing in with. Then I realized that they were the ‘Yo’girlfren’, what’s up?’ crew. Little bastards, I thought. The bloody cheek of them.
I tried pushing and poking to wake them up and get them out. But nothing doing.
So I crept into Brigit’s room. It smelt of alcohol and smoke. Sunlight was sneaking under the blinds and the room was already warm.
‘Hello,’ I whispered, sliding into bed beside her, ‘I stole you some cheese.’
‘Where did you go to with the coke?’ she murmured. ‘And you shouldn’t have left me to deal with this on my own.’
‘But I met a man,’ I explained quietly.
‘It’s not on, Rachel,’ she said, her eyes still closed. ‘Half that gram was mine. It wasn’t yours to take.’
My fear ripped wide open again. Brigit was cross with me. My free-floating paranoia had something concrete to hang on. I wished fiercely that I hadn’t left. Especially considering how fruitless the whole mission had been.
Mama.
Mama indeed.
Fucking headcase, I thought dismissively.
I hope he rings.
Brigit turned over and went on sleeping. But I could feel her anger. I didn’t want to be in her bed anymore, but I had no place else to go.
29
I was nearly sick with fear that the questionnaire might be read out in that morning’s group. Please God, I prayed. I’ll do anything you want, just let this cup pass from my lips.
The only thing was that the inmates seemed to be on my side, most of them anyway. When I went down to make the breakfasts, Don shouted ‘What do we WANT?’ And Stalin replied ‘Luke Costello’s bollix for earrings.’
Then Don shouted, his eyes bursting from his skull, ‘When do we want IT?’ And Stalin replied, ‘Now!’
And there were energetic variations of the theme all through breakfast. Among the things wanted were Luke Costello’s kneecaps for ashtrays, Luke Costello’s arse for a doormat, Luke Costello’s willy for a bracelet and, of course, Luke Costello’s bollix in an eggcup, for target practice, for golf-balls, to juggle with, to play marbles with and for gobstoppers.
I was deeply touched by their support. Of course, not everyone joined in. Mike didn’t, he just wore an unreadable expression on his granite-ugly face. Most of the older people who’d been there for more than a month looked on with mouths pursed in disapproval. Frederick, who had attained the grand age of six weeks, tutted and tisked and said ‘You shouldn’t be blaming anyone else, you should be looking to see what your part in all of this is.’ Then everyone who was on my side – Fergus, Chaquie, Vincent, John Joe, Eddie, Stalin, Peter, Davy the gambler, Eamonn and Barry the child all shouted ‘Ah, shut up.’ Even Neil did, although I was happy to do without his support.
I carefully watched Chris, desperate for a sign that he was still my friend, and I felt hurt when he didn’t say he wanted Luke’s balls for anything. But to my relief he didn’t seem to be allying himself with the self-righteous oldtimers either. And just as we were on our way to group – me feeling like I was going to face a firing squad – he grabbed me.
