A Gift to You (20 page)

Ciara felt sick, One of the fellas had brought vodka in a Seven-Up bottle to the party and she’d drank some and it made her feel very odd. Then she’d smoked a
cigarette and it made her feel dizzy. The music was very loud. She didn’t really like Baauer. She much preferred Adele. Her friend’s parents had gone off to the pub and two fellas that
hadn’t been invited had gatecrashed and they were causing trouble. Ciara wanted to go home. Terry Owens grabbed her.

‘Let’s snog.’ He smirked, shoving his pimply face close to hers.

‘In your dreams,’ Ciara said, in what she hoped was a sufficiently cold and sophisticated rebuff. Terry ignored her and kissed her anyway. She thought she was going to puke.

‘Can’t wait to see you in your nightie. Whose tent are you sleeping in?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Not yours, for sure. Besides you know it’s one tent for the boys and one for the girls,’ Ciara retorted. Terry winked.

‘We’re coming visiting.’

‘Get lost,’ Ciara slurred irritably. She didn’t want to sleep in a tent. She wanted to be safe and snug in her own bed knowing that Terry Owens couldn’t get near her. She
felt most peculiar. Her fingers closed around her house key in her jeans pocket. She always carried a key. She got home from school at three, every day, and her mother was never home from work
until after six and often later. She was used to being on her own in the house. She wouldn’t mind being alone until her dad came home from his match tonight.

Ciara slipped out of the side gate and hurried along the footpath, glancing around every now and then to see if anyone had seen her. She felt very sick and dizzy. Her knees started to shake. She
felt scared as she hunkered down, trying to take deep breaths.

‘Ciara, Ciara,’ are you all right?’ She heard Mike Stuart’s anxious enquiry.

‘I drank some stuff. I feel funny.’

‘Come on. Come home with me.’ Mike sounded very kind as he helped her up and she leaned against him. His house was just across the street and it was a huge relief to
sink down onto his sofa and close her eyes while Kathy covered her with a blanket.

‘It’s a bloody disgrace. Those kids are all half pissed down in Hennessy’s. I rang some of the parents. How could Garry and Alison let Ciara go to something
like that? They should be shot.’ Mike was furious.

‘They don’t care about that poor child. Do you know they left her on her own in the house after school with two men who were fitting a new alarm system. Maybe they were perfectly
nice men, but who’s to know these days? Have they no cop-on? Don’t they worry about things the way we do? I wouldn’t leave Hannah on her own with two strangers for three minutes,
let alone three hours. It’s just not safe any more. Have those two lost their marbles, or have they any sense of responsibility? By God, I’m going to give Garry and Alison an earful
when I bring Ciara home,’ Kathy fumed. ‘She’s out gadding. He’s out at his match, and that poor child is wandering the streets pissed out of her skull. Haven’t they a
great life all the same, the pair of them?’

‘Let her stay the night,’ Mike suggested.

‘No, Mike. I want Garry to see Ciara’s little white face, God love her. I’ll bring her home in an hour or so; besides she wants to go home to her own bed.’

‘OK, maybe you’re right.’ Mike agreed as he handed his wife a mug of coffee.

An hour later, Kathy drove her weary goddaughter home. She’d tried to phone to check that Garry was there, but the phone was engaged. So one of them must be there. She felt very sorry for
Ciara but it was time that pair accepted some responsibility for their child, she thought grimly, as she swung into the McHughs’ drive. Garry’s Audi was there and there was a light on
in the hall.

‘I’ve my key, the bell’s not working properly. You can’t hear it if the TV’s on,’ Ciara said miserably. ‘Dad’s going to kill me.’

‘No, he won’t. I’ll explain. I know you won’t drink again after this,’ Kathy assured her.

‘I promise I won’t, honest,’ Ciara said fervently as she slid the key into the lock.

Kathy followed her into the sitting room and heard Ciara’s gasp of horror as she halted in her tracks at the scene in front of her. Wailing loudly, she ran from the room as Garry cursed
vehemently and Brenda squeaked, ‘Ohmigod, ohmigod’ from her prone position underneath him on the sofa.

Kathy was so shocked she could only think,
What a hairy arse he has!

‘I . . . I . . .’ she stuttered. ‘I’ll bring Ciara home with me.’ She had to get out of here. This was a nightmare. ‘You prat, Garry, could you not have gone
to
her
house?’ Kathy exploded. She raced upstairs after Ciara. ‘Come on, love. Come and stay the night with us.’

‘I hate him. I hate him. I hate all of them.’

‘I know, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it at home. Come on, you need a good night’s sleep.’ Kathy’s heart bled for her. Ciara, only five weeks older than her own
Hannah, had just had her innocence and security snatched from her in the cruellest way imaginable.

Kathy had lost all respect for Garry. Having an affair was his business, but couldn’t he have the decency to conduct it somewhere other than his own home. And Brenda was supposed to be
Alison’s best friend . . . some friend. The McHughs’ marriage was well and truly over, that was for sure, Kathy thought sadly as she ushered the distraught young girl out of the front
door. Hard as it was on Garry and Alison, it was a thousand times worse for Ciara.

A year later

Thank God he was staying with his fancy woman tonight, Imelda thought with a sigh of relief, as she plonked herself in front of the TV with a cheese and pickle sandwich.
He wasn’t coming home for lunch, so she could watch
Home and Away
in peace without having to worry about cooking a meal. What had she done to deserve this trial in her life? Imelda
wondered angrily. It was almost eight months since Garry had arrived on her doorstep, muttering that there was a bit of trouble at home and could he stay with her for a while. Imelda had been
dumbstruck, but what could she say? She couldn’t turn her own son away, even if he was the last person in the world she wanted living with her.

He was so like his father, surly and bad-tempered. He’d moved in, bag and baggage and the days turned into weeks, then months and slowly but surely her precious hard-won freedom was eroded
away. She had to wash and iron his clothes, and cook his meals for him. She couldn’t even watch the programmes she liked on TV any more if there was sport on.

He had another girlfriend, he’d told her that, and he usually spent a night or two and the weekends with her. But if they had a row, which they did frequently, he ended up staying with
Imelda. She bitterly resented the situation but couldn’t bring herself to ask him to leave. She’d never been good at standing up for herself; a lifetime married to Ben McHugh had seen
to that. Now it was if he’d come back to haunt her. She woke up angry in the mornings and went to bed angry at night.

A little flicker of hope glimmered. Maybe Garry would get a divorce and go and marry that Brenda one. Imelda had never met her nor did she want to meet her, but if she took Garry off her hands,
Imelda would be eternally grateful. She wondered, could she pray that Garry would get divorced and remarried? Hardly. It didn’t seem right. Maybe she’d just pray that Garry would move
out and get a flat of his own. He surely didn’t want to spend the rest of his life living with her?

It was all so distressing. Imelda pushed away her sandwich. She wasn’t hungry. Her life was a hard old grind again. Just like before. And she didn’t have the guts to do anything
about it. That was the hardest thing of all to live with.

Kathy glazed the top of the chicken and mushroom pie and popped it in the oven. It would be cooked by the time the kids came in from school. She’d made it especially for
Ciara. It was her goddaughter’s favourite. Ciara was spending the weekend with them . . . yet again.

Kathy’s mouth tightened into a thin line as she remembered how Alison had phoned with her one of her rigmaroles about how she needed Ciara looked after as she’d just got a lovely
offer of a weekend away with her new boyfriend and she couldn’t ask Garry and Brenda to take her because it wasn’t their weekend to have her and they weren’t at all flexible in
that regard. ‘And she just loves being with you and Mike. And Hannah’s her very best friend,’ Alison gushed, as usual.

Poor old Ciara – she was just a nuisance to her parents, who were far too concerned with having a good time to worry about the effect it was all having on their daughter. Kathy was so
angry she really wanted to tell Garry and Alison what she thought of them. She hadn’t seen Garry since that dreadful night when she’d walked in on him and Brenda. He hadn’t had
the manners to contact her or Mike once. It was as if they didn’t exist in his life. Some friend he’d turned out to be. He didn’t have the backbone to face them. Or maybe he just
didn’t want to. He’d dropped them like hot potatoes when he didn’t need them, and all their happy times together meant nothing.

Kathy could understand why Garry couldn’t face her, but she couldn’t forgive him for the way he was treating Ciara. She’d never forget Hannah telling her last summer that Ciara
had got a postcard from her daddy and his girlfriend on holiday and she hoped they’d buy her a nice present.

He’d only seen her three times that summer. At least Alison had taken her away for a week. But Garry had taken his two weeks holiday and spent them driving around the country with his
mistress. The best he could do was to send Ciara a postcard. Kathy had been incensed.

‘It’s neglect, Mike, that’s what it is, and I’m going to have it out with him. And with Alison. The two of them are off having the life of Reilly and it’s you and
me that are here worrying about Ciara.’

‘And if you cause a row, who’s going to suffer? Ciara. Say nothing. It’s not our place to interfere. All we can do is be here for Ciara as long as she needs us. If
there’s an argument, they might stop her from seeing us. That poor kid has enough traumas in her life without that. Say nothing,’ Mike had advised.

Kathy knew he was right and she’d held her tongue, but she sizzled with resentment. She’d liked Garry and Alison as friends. They’d had a lot of good times in the past. Never
in a million years had she expected this of them. It was quite obvious Garry didn’t give a hoot about her and Mike and that hurt.

Alison was using them at every possible opportunity, emotionally blackmailing them by saying how much Ciara loved staying with them. Kathy was sick of it, heartily sick of it. Users,
that’s what they were. If it wasn’t for the fact that she loved Ciara like one of her own she’d tell them to get lost, and never wish to see them again, she thought angrily as she
set the table for the dinner.

Brenda sat in the staff canteen drinking coffee. The chatter and buzz and the rattle of china and cutlery was giving her a headache. Being involved with Garry left her feeling
as if she was walking on a tightrope. One false move and that was it. Why didn’t he want to marry her the way she wanted to marry him? Why wouldn’t he commit to her? Why did he keep
using Ciara as an excuse? It wasn’t as if he was exactly
Father of the Year Award
material. Actually, he wasn’t as good a father as she had once given him credit for, that
couldn’t be denied. He admitted it, but he was too selfish to do anything about it. It was a side of him that Brenda didn’t like, but she tried not to think about it.

If he was living with her permanently, Ciara could spend more time with them. The trouble was, Brenda knew he was happy enough living with his mother. He was well looked after. Better than when
he’d lived with Alison. He had all the home comforts. And then he had her for sex when he needed it.

How could she compete with Ma McHugh? Garry had told her that his mother liked him living with her. It made her feel more ‘secure,’ he said. He wouldn’t like to
‘desert’ her.

That
had chilled Brenda to the bone. Something drastic had to be done. She needed to make living with her a more attractive proposition for him.

Brenda got up from the table and marched upstairs. She Googled for a couple of minutes on her iPhone, found the number she was looking for and dialled it. ‘Hello,’ she said to the
person at the other end, ‘I’d like to make an enquiry about getting Sky Sports. How do I go about it?’

Ciara sat in class listening to her teacher explain about the assessment test for deciding the maths groups. It was like a huge big weight on her shoulders. It made her feel
sick to think about it. She was
such
a dunce at maths. She was going to stay with Hannah this weekend. She’d ask Mike to explain Simple Interest to her. He was very good at
explaining things.

She was glad she was staying with the Stuarts. She didn’t want to go to Kilkenny for the weekend with Alison and her new boyfriend. She hated seeing her mother in bed with another man,
just as she hated seeing her Dad in bed with Brenda of the knitting needle legs. She’d never forget the sight of those skinny legs wrapped around her father’s white arse. Ciara bit her
nails. They were down to the stubs. They looked awful but no matter how hard she tried to, she couldn’t stop.

Biting her nails made her think of food. She hoped Kathy would cook chicken and mushroom pie for the dinner. It always tasted scrumptious. Everyone thought she was dead lucky to have a mother
like Alison. A mother who let her wear make-up and minis and who brought her into pubs and gave her sips of wine and who allowed her have a TV in her room. Her friends thought Alison, who went to
nightclubs, and knew all the words of the latest pop songs, was dead cool. Ciara just wished she’d stay at home and cook real dinners and help her with her homework. Like Kathy. Kathy was a
proper
mother, Ciara thought enviously. Hannah was very lucky.

‘Are your Ma and Da going to get a divorce, like mine?’ Sadie Flynn had whispered to her in class earlier.

‘No, they’re just separated for a while; they’re going to get back together,’ Ciara whispered back. She always said that, hoping against hope that it would come true.