Putting Out the Stars (3 page)

‘We’ll see about that.’ Breffni broke into a sudden run and sped past her.

‘Hey – you’re supposed to be wrecked.’ Laura slowed down as Breffni disappeared around the corner. ‘Hope you scald yourself.’

They went fishing at dawn one morning in the bay with Breffni’s uncle’s friend, and watched stripes of crimson and orange and pink lace the sky through the railings of Golden Gate
Bridge as the sun floated up to face another perfect day. Later they managed to catch a salmon, Laura frantically trying to manoeuvre the struggling fish into the huge net that Breffni, weak with
laughter, was holding over the boat’s rail. Their host watched in amusement, ready to take over if the fish looked like escaping.

‘Hold that blasted thing steady, would you?’ Laura heaved the rod in the direction of the wildly wavering net. ‘This weighs a ton.’

Breffni braced herself against the rail, giggling helplessly. ‘I’m trying, honest – Jesus, the size of that fish! Don’t let him pull you overboard – I’ve no
intention of jumping in after you.’ She looked back at the boat owner, still grinning widely. ‘Carl, I think the fisherman needs a bit of help here – she’s having trouble
landing her catch.’

They had barbecued salmon with the cousins that evening on Baker Beach, and belted out a fairly accurate version of ‘The Dock of the Bay’ after several lite beers.

Back in Ireland, Laura started her commercial art course at the end of September and Breffni, determined never to set foot in an educational institution again, got a job behind the reception
desk in a solicitor’s office. They met almost as much as ever, keeping up to date with their different lifestyles. Occasionally, Breffni stayed the night in the flat Laura had escaped to
after leaving school – thank God Dad had agreed to fund the rent. He could see how things were, how they’d always been between Laura and her mother. As soon as she moved out, Laura got
a part-time job in The White House pub, determined not to cost her father any more than she had to.

Over a year later, with Christmas just around the corner, Laura got a phone call.

‘Brace yourself – Andrew asked me out.’

‘Andrew who?’ Laura tried to drag her thoughts away from the department-store logo she was trying to design. She’d never have something ready by Friday.

Breffni snorted down the line. ‘What do you mean, Andrew who? Andrew your brother, you eejit. Andrew who grew up in the same house as you.’

‘Our Andrew? Andrew my little brother asked you out? You have got to be kidding.’ Laura laughed, sure it was another of Breffni’s jokes.

Breffni sounded mildly annoyed. ‘Why? Why shouldn’t he ask me out? What’s wrong with me?’

Laura stopped laughing. ‘God, you’re serious. My brother wants to go out with you.’

‘What’s so strange about that? Why shouldn’t he fancy me?’

Why indeed? Men had always been drawn to Breffni. But Andrew . . . ‘I’m not surprised that he fancies you, it’s not that; it’s just that he’s my little brother
–’

‘Stop calling him your little brother. He’s a head taller than you, and he’s eighteen, only a year and a bit younger than me. And you know I’ve always thought he’s
a right hunk.’

‘God, stop – I can’t think about him like that. You’re not really going to go out with him though, are you?’

Breffni’s voice had more than a hint of annoyance in it now. ‘Yeah, I am actually. We’re going to Gerry Flannery’s for a drink tomorrow night.’ She paused before
addding, ‘I hope you’re not going to be funny about it.’

Laura considered: her brother and her best friend. It definitely felt . . . odd; but then again, why shouldn’t they go out together, just because Breffni was her friend? ‘No, of
course I’m not going to be funny about it . . . it’s just – I suppose it’s just a bit . . . unexpected, that’s all.’

Breffni’s voice softened. ‘So you won’t disown me if I fall head over heels?’

Laura laughed again. ‘With my little – oh sorry, I mean with my much taller brother? Hardly. Ah, what the heck – go for a drink with him. Where’s the harm?’

And they did go. And a few days after that, they went to the cinema. And then Laura got used to the idea of her brother and her best friend together, and stopped marvelling at the fact that
she’d never seen Breffni so . . . contented. It wasn’t that she and Laura spent all day talking about Andrew – on the contrary, it was the first relationship they didn’t
dissect in great detail – but something had changed in Bref, definitely. There was a sort of excitement there that Laura had never seen before.

She and Andrew met at least twice a week, sometimes more. Occasionally they called in and sat at The White House counter, chatting to Laura – one night the three of them went to see a play
at the Belltable – and Laura was just beginning to play with the possibility of her friend and her brother getting serious, when Andrew brought Breffni home to ‘meet’ his
parents.

Of course, Brian and Cecily already knew Breffni well; she’d been in and out of their house practically all her life, sitting at the table during all of Laura’s birthday parties,
playing in the back garden with other little girls during summer afternoons, spending hours upstairs with Laura when they were older, even occasionally staying overnight on a camp bed in
Laura’s room.

But this was something new; now she was Andrew’s friend.

Laura would have loved to be there, just to see the reaction of her mother, in particular, to this new development. But since she’d moved out, invitations to dinner at home, much to
Laura’s private relief, had been limited to special occasions – birthday celebrations, Christmas Day, Easter Sunday – so she had to rely on Breffni’s account of the night.
Apparently Cecily had behaved perfectly all evening.

‘We got a gorgeous quiche, and a very posh salad with pine nuts. And strawberries for dessert – only Cecily would produce strawberries at the end of January.’

‘But what was it like – what did ye talk about?’ Laura couldn’t imagine it: Andrew and Breffni sitting down to dinner as a couple, with Cecily playing hostess. Much as
Laura adored her father, he couldn’t really be depended on to contribute much to the conversation – he usually preferred to leave that to Cecily, who was rarely lost for words. But what
on earth would she have found to talk about with Laura’s friend, in this unfamiliar social situation?

Breffni was amused. ‘Can you not give your mother some credit? We chatted away quite pleasantly, actually – she asked after my parents, although she probably bumps into one of them
every time she goes outside the door. Oh, and she wanted to know all about my job – you never told me she was a secretary before she got married. And I asked her about the book club,
pretended I was thinking of starting one up with the work crowd. It was grand, really – all very civilised and polite. And, of course, your father was a pet, as usual. Didn’t say too
much, but kept making sure I had enough to eat – he must have passed me the salad half a dozen times.’

Laura shook her head. ‘Well, that’s good; you’ve done the meet-the-parents thing and survived.’ She didn’t add
let’s wait and see what the verdict is when
it comes in
, but she knew Breffni was thinking it too.

And then two weeks later, on a bitterly cold February afternoon, Breffni walked into the travel agency next door to her workplace and bought a ticket back to San Francisco.

Laura was stunned when Breffni called around to her that evening. ‘What do you mean, leaving? You can’t leave, just like that. What about Andrew?’

Breffni looked straight at her. ‘Actually Laur, Andrew finished with me last week.’

Laura’s jaw dropped further. ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?’ She crouched beside Breffni’s chair and put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Are you
all right?’

‘I’ll live.’ Breffni shrugged. ‘I would have told you, but you’ve been a bit caught up in college stuff lately; I didn’t want to distract you.’

‘Bref, are you crazy?’ Laura looked bewildered. ‘As if my stupid course work would be more important than you. What happened?’

Breffni shrugged again. ‘Just that, really. He said he didn’t think we were going anywhere, blah blah blah. What could I say?’

Laura considered. Andrew and Breffni hadn’t been going out for long – six, seven weeks? – but when Laura had seen them together, she’d have sworn that Andrew was just as
taken with Breffni as she seemed to be with him. And hadn’t everything been fine when Breffni had gone to dinner with Brian and Cecily the other week?

Cecily, of course. Laura could have hit her, the way she ran Andrew’s life. Or hit Andrew, for letting his mother dictate to him. There was no doubt in Laura’s mind that Cecily was
responsible for this latest development. She took Breffni’s hand. ‘Look, maybe he’s just got cold feet; maybe I could talk to –’

‘No.’ Breffni pulled away from Laura. ‘Absolutely not. I’m not having you begging Andrew to take me back. Anyway, I’m quite looking forward to heading back to the
States – especially in this weather.’ She got up and walked to the window. ‘And the job was driving me mad, you know it was. Nothing to do all day except answer the phone and
smile at the few people who came in – deadly boring.’ She kept her back to Laura, looking out into the dark garden.

Laura was still struggling to gather her thoughts. ‘But you could have just got another job here in Limerick – you don’t have to go halfway around the world.’ It was the
first time either of them had made a decision without talking it over with the other; and now Breffni was doing this huge thing all by herself.

When she didn’t respond, Laura tried again. ‘Look Bref, why don’t you wait a while? Maybe we could go back in the summer – I’ll be off for three months. We could do
a bit of travelling, maybe go up –’

But Breffni shook her head, still looking out. ‘Sorry Laur – I’ve my mind made up; and I have the ticket bought. But do come out in the summer – I’d love
that.’ She turned around and leant against the window sill, smiling gently. ‘You know, the more I think about it, the more I can’t wait to go back – remember the buzz of San
Francisco? I bet you could be tempted back yourself right now if you weren’t up to your armpits in arty-farty stuff.’

Laura considered. ‘Well, yeah, I’d love to go back for another holiday – but I don’t know about living there . . . you might start doing daily yoga and eating bean
sprouts and chanting.’

Breffni shook her head again, made a face. ‘Can you see me doing daily anything, except eating? I might do the odd yoga class, but no bean sprouts unless they’re in a big fat
stir-fry – and definitely no chanting.’

‘You might start saying “have a nice day”, and talking about your feelings.’

She smiled faintly. ‘I won’t, honest. No nice days, no feelings.’ She turned and looked out into the night again, and after a minute Laura knew, by the way she bent her head
slightly, by the subtle change in her breathing, that she was crying.

Laura went over and put an arm around her shoulder. ‘I could kill him.’

‘Ah no.’ Breffni rubbed a sleeve across her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘These things happen; don’t blame him. I’ll survive.’

‘But what’ll you do there? How will you make enough to live on?’

‘Ah, there’s plenty of work there. I’ll probably look for house-cleaning – remember all the notices we saw in the supermarkets? Looks like they’re crying out for
cleaners. Or I could babysit, couldn’t I?’

‘And where’ll you stay?’

‘With the cousins to start with – I’m sure they won’t mind having me back. And then I’ll look around for a place once I’m settled.’

‘Rents are sky high there – you’ll never afford it without a proper job.’

The ghost of a smile flashed across Breffni’s face. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to sell my body then. That should make up the shortfall.’

‘Bref, be serious.’

‘I am serious – about going back, I mean.’ Breffni squared her shoulders, and Laura thought that maybe she was right; maybe the change of scene would do her good.

She grinned. ‘Hey, remember the secondhand stores, ‘Goodwill’ and ‘Thrift Town’ and that huge Salvation Army shop on Valencia Street?’

Breffni nodded, smiled back. ‘Remember when I got the Calvin Klein jeans for five bucks? You were raging with me for spotting them first.’

‘Remember the giant pizzas in that little place on Twenty-first Street – what was it called?’

‘Oh God, yeah – Serrano’s. The size of them, as big as the wheel of a High Nelly. Remember the Greek pizza, with the feta cheese and the olives –’

‘And Mitchell’s Ice-cream Parlour – the ginger ice-cream we couldn’t get enough of. And Trader Joe’s sourdough bread.’

Breffni nodded, amused at Laura’s enthusiasm. ‘See? Is it any wonder I’m heading back to all that? Wouldn’t you give your eye teeth to be coming too? And anyway, I might
only stay a few months – I’m not planning too far ahead. My ticket’s valid for three months, and I can extend it up to a year once I’m there, as long as I keep well hidden.
I’m sure there’ll be plenty of boring office jobs here when I come back.’

But she hadn’t come back. Not that year – not even for Christmas, in case they wouldn’t let her in again. She wrote to Laura often – long, funny letters full of news and
chat about the people she cleaned for.

She described the characters she met when she took her little babysitting charges to the local parks: Cloud, the gay eighteen-year-old who took obsessive care of Toby, his little half-brother;
Teresa, the smiling Mexican nanny with a pair of breath-catchingly beautiful toddler twins dressed from head to toe in designer labels – ‘
and you may be sure Mamma went nowhere near
her local thrift store
’.