This Charming Man (85 page)

‘And Marnie, there’s nothing you can do either. You’ve no choice. I used to think you had but you haven’t. You’re powerless, as powerless as I am.’

It was the strangest feeling – I’d forgiven her. She wasn’t going to stop drinking, I knew that now. Nothing could make her stop. She would keep drinking and keep drinking and – sooner or later – it might kill her. But even for that I’d already forgiven her.

Bridie, Barry, Treese, Jem, Gwen and I arrive Uncle Tom’s cabin. All together in Treese’s new SUV. (Present from Vincent.) (Vincent not present.)

Open bottle of wine.

Knock on door.

‘That’ll be Considine.’ But when opened door, who was standing there? Only Chloe! Yes, Chloe! Eyes sparkling, hair glossy, clothing as on-trend as ever.

Delighted hugs. Proud introductions. Over-interested gawking from Bridie, Barry, Jem and Gwen. Less overt staring from Treese.

Strong drinks. High spirits. Out on the town. Knockavoy crammed with visitors. People everywhere. No one sussed Chloe was trannie, simply thought she was – perhaps slightly tall, slightly bulky – girl from Dublin.

Chloe huge hit with friends.

‘Full of life and laughter,’ Bridie kept saying about her. (Do not know where she got that phrase. Bridie has propensity for peculiar phrases.) ‘Do not fancy her as, unlike you, Lola, am not lezzer-inclined, but full of life and laughter.’

Bridie tremendously drunk.

All of us tremendously drunk.

Great, great night.

Quite unwell. Jem and Gwen carried sofa round to back of house for me – too hung-over to do it myself – then lay on it, huddled beneath
duvet. Kept Considine’s house in my sights, hoping to see him and give little wave, but he never appeared. Down pothole, no doubt.

Treese got up.

Treese went back to bed.

Aided by Barry, Bridie crept downstairs. Had been vomiting since sun-up.

‘Toast,’ she whispered.

Jem and Gwen cooked dinner. Bottle of wine opened. Tentative sips. Suddenly everyone talking and colour back in our cheeks.

Knock on door.

‘That’ll be Considine.’ But when opened door, who was standing there? Only Chloe! Yes, Chloe! Again! Different clothing this time, but just as dazzling. Thrilled, yes, thrilled to see her once more. Could not understand why felt so disappointed.

Strong drinks. High spirits. Out on the town. Knockavoy crammed with visitors. People everywhere. Again, no one sussed Chloe was trannie, simply thought she was – perhaps slightly tall, slightly bulky

– girl from Dublin.

Again, Chloe huge hit with friends.

‘Full of life and laughter,’ Bridie kept saying about her.

Decided to count how many times Bridie said, ‘Full of life and laughter,’ but lost count after forty-eight.

Bridie tremendously drunk.

All of us tremendously drunk.

Great, great night.

Did not really enjoy it.

Had been asleep for only two hours but was awake again. Thinking of Considine. Keen to see him. Very keen. Needed to get to him before he started applying false nails and chicken fillets and became Chloe again. Now as good a time as any. Slipped from bed and, still in pyjamas, crossed grass to his house.

Knocked on door.

No answer.

Knocked again, much louder.

No answer.

Knocked again, this time so loud almost missed him protesting, ‘Is middle of bloody night!’

‘Let me in, Cranky-Arse! Is Lola.’

He opened door and I scooted past him. His hair mussed and face sleepy. Wearing blue sweats and raggedy grey T-shirt. (All traces of Chloe removed, was relieved to see.)

‘Badger’s arse?’ I asked with sympathy.

‘Badger’s arse.’ He nodded dolefully. ‘You?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tea?’

‘No.’

‘Anything?’

‘No.’

‘Sit beside me?’

I moved. Emboldened. ‘I put head on your shoulder?’

‘Yes. I put arm around you?’

‘Yes.’

Sat side by side in hung-over silence. Remarkably pleasant.

‘Considine.’ Cleared throat. ‘Never thought would hear self say these words, but am happy to see you. Was starting to think wouldn’t see you at all this weekend.’

‘Thought you liked Chloe. Got Chloe out of retirement specially for you.’

‘Do like Chloe. Kindly of you to go to trouble. But like you too.’

He rubbed hand over stubbly jaw. Raspy noise. Sexy, if truth be told. ‘Like you too, Lola,’ he said. Silence. ‘Like you very, very much.’
More silence. But not normal silence. Silence where a lot of emotion happening. ‘Very much. Missed you since you left.’

Pause where weighed up what should say. ‘Missed you too.’

‘Think about you all the time.’

Another pause. ‘Think about you all the time too.’

‘Think about you every day.’

Another pause. ‘Think about you every day too.’

He yawned. I yawned. He said, ‘Better go back to bed.’ Seemed to be struck by notion. Twisted head to look at me. ‘You like to come?’

Gazed into his eyes. ‘… Er… yes.’

‘Good!’ Sudden, most un Considine-like grin and he swung me up into his arms – carrying me! Was mortified.

‘Put me down. You will hurt your back. I have large bottom.’

‘Perfect bottom.’ He was climbing the stairs. Not even puffing.

‘How you so strong?’

‘Potholing.’

He kicked bedroom door open, it vibrated with force, then placed me in centre of bed. Still warm from him.

All happening too fast. Lost my nerve. ‘We have had no sleep, Considine. Let’s have little snooze.’

‘Whatever you like.’

Got under duvet but kept my pyjamas on. He kept clothes on also.

Gathered me to him, pulled duvet tightly around us. I began drifting off to sleep, but felt would combust spontaneously. ‘Am too hot, Considine.’

‘Me too.’

‘Am taking off my top.’

‘Me too.’

I unbuttoned my pyjama top. He pulled T-shirt over his head. Warm smooth skin against mine. Hard muscles. Taut stomach. Oh delicious.

Shut my eyes and resumed sleeping position. ‘Am still too hot, Considine.’

‘Me too.’

But once all clothes off, felt hotter still. Freedom of unfettered limbs, legs tangled with his. I shifted and his erection banged against my thigh.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Ignore it.’

‘Would prefer not to. If that’s okay with you.’

‘That’s okay with me all right.’ Amused.

Was bloody fabulous.

No porn. No prostitutes. Only one position.

Focused. Intense. Holding himself effortlessly on tensed arms, like doing push-ups, he moved slowly in and out of me, while staring into my eyes. Thought would
die
.

Woken by double beep of Considine’s phone.

He read text. Passed me phone. ‘It’s for you.’

From Bridie. I replied in the affirmative. Text came back.

‘Considine, I have to go.’

‘Stay,’ he said.

‘Cannot,’ I said. ‘Big job tomorrow.’

‘… Tomorrow. But I…’ He didn’t say whatever had been going to say. ‘You still very busy?’

‘Oh
very
busy.’ Yes, had plenty of work, but making self sound even busier than was.

‘No sign of it slowing down?’

‘No sign.’

‘And you’re feeling good?’

‘Excellent.’

‘Glad to be back in Dublin?’

‘Overjoyed.’

‘… Okay. Well, for what it’s worth, Lola, I want to tell you something. It’s important.’

‘What is it?’

‘Chloe here for you any time you like.’

Chloe
? Not what had been expecting to hear.

‘Kindly of you,’ I said stiffly. ‘Will let self out.’

In the car
‘So!’ Bridie said. ‘You and trannie-man!’

‘Is nothing,’ I said irritably. ‘Holiday romance.’

‘Maybe he visit you in Dublin?’

I kept mouth closed. Considine hadn’t mentioned any possible visits and so neither had I.

‘What’s up with you?’ Bridie asked.

‘Nothing.’

But not nothing. Had been stung by Considine’s offer of Chloe’s friendship. He hadn’t said, ‘
I
here for you any time you like.’ Prepared to offer his trannie alter ego but not himself.

I arrived home on 19 March, the day of the general election.

‘Dee Rossini’s party is expected to do very well,’ Ma informed me.

‘Good, good.’ I couldn’t care less. I didn’t want to hear about Dee or New Ireland or anything to do with them.

‘Damien was looking for you,’ Ma said.

My heart hopped, then immediately slumped to an even lower position. He must want to talk about what we were to do with our house.

‘He rang while you were away but I didn’t want to disturb your holiday. He says to give him a ring when you’re back.’

I’d give it a couple of days, I decided. It was going to be a painful discussion and I wanted to put it off for as long as possible. He was bound to be working all hours on the election; that could be my excuse. I’d wait until after it was done and dusted.

The following morning I was woken at seven-thirty by voices bellowing from the radio in the kitchen.

‘Turn it down,’ I yelled. ‘Turn the fucking thing down.’

But no one heard me so I stomped downstairs.

‘It’s a bloodbath,’ Dad crowed, sitting at the kitchen table. ‘Your friend Dee Rossini is after making shite of the main parties. Everyone has lost seats to New Ireland – even the mighty Nappies. She looks likely to double her number of Dail seats. The Nappies will be gagging to stay in coalition with her.’

‘Very good.’

I gave the dial such a swivel I hurt my wrist, then I made toast and went back to bed. I ate my toast and drifted back into a funny, dream-filled half sleep and was woken by a tap on the bedroom door. It was Ma. ‘Someone to see you,’ she said.

My heart leapt with hope and I sat up eagerly.

‘No, it’s not Damien,’ she said.

‘Oh. Okay.’ Slowly I lay down on the bed again.

‘Get up,’ Ma hissed. ‘It’s Dee Rossini.’

Oh no. I’d have to be enthusiastic. ‘Ma, tell her I can’t –’

But Ma had disappeared out onto the landing, then, practically bowing, she was leading Dee into the room.

‘New Ireland are forming a coalition government with the Nappies. Ms Rossini’s just been made Minister for Finance
and
Deputy Prime Minister,’ Ma said, bursting with pride. ‘She just got a call
this minute
from An Taoiseach.
On her mobile.’

An Taoiseach? Ma loathed Teddy Taft. She
hated
him, she always referred to him as the Thug and she said his nose looked like a penis. But she’d even said An Taoiseach with its proper Irish pronunciation – On Thway-shaaaaaaackkkhhhh, as ifshe was dry-retching.

‘Dee hasn’t been to bed yet,’ Ma said with admiration.

‘Grace.’ Dee came towards me. Then she got a proper look. ‘Oh my God! Grace! You look sick.’

‘Thanks a million!’ I said. ‘I’m just back from holiday! I should look good. You’d want to have seen me before I went.’

‘Are you sure you’re not sick?’

‘Completely sure. I went to the doctor. She made me.’ I indicated Ma, who was still in the room.

Ma put her hand to her chest and gave a little gasp, as ifshe too had just discovered that she was still in the room. ‘I should really…’ She sounded disappointed. ‘You must have private things to discuss. I’ll leave you to it.’ Reluctantly she left.

‘Anyway, Dee, congratulations.’ I remembered my manners. ‘You’ve done amazingly well, Dad says.’

‘Ifit wasn’t for you, Grace, I wouldn’t even be leader of New Ireland,’ Dee said. ‘I’m sorry you had to lose so much…’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘We’re having a celebration tonight,’ Dee said. ‘We’re inviting every party member in the country. It’s all being put together in a bit of a hurry. It’s only right that you’re there.’

‘Dee, no… I’m sorry.’

‘I’ve a surprise for you.’

A surprise? I didn’t want a surprise.

‘It’s about Paddy.’

‘Aargh!’ I held up my hand, like I was warding off evil spirits. I didn’t even want to hear his name.

‘Come. Really. You’ll be glad you did.’

Marnie woke, in her own bed, in her own bedroom, feeling extraordinarily well. She’d slept through the night without once jerking awake from a terrifying nightmare, the sheets weren’t tangled around her, drenched with sweat, and she felt full of hope rather than her more customary dread.

She’d got back from Tenerife the previous night. It was four days since she’d had a drink – since the lapse on holiday – and she’d made a little decision. No need to announce it to the world, but she was – very quietly – going to knock the drink on the head.

It was Grace’s pity that had done it. After Marnie had emerged from ‘the lapse’, which had happened a week into their holiday, she’d braced herself for Grace’s fury. But Grace had responded with an astonishing lack of anger. There was a new look in her eyes – like sympathy, but not as nice. Pity, Marnie had eventually recognized it as – and it had stung.

The interesting thing was that during the weekends when Grace used to visit, in an effort to police Marnie’s drinking, her anger had had no effect at all on Marnie, except perhaps to make her retreat further into the cocoon of alcohol. It was as if Marnie had been able to see Grace mouthing the furious words, but couldn’t hear them.

However, Grace’s pity, that was a different story. Pity wasn’t the same as compassion: a nasty vein of disrespect ran through pity.

Suddenly she had seen herself as Grace – and others – saw her: not as the intelligent, oversensitive creature she had always been treated as, but simply as a burden. Someone to worry about.

It had been a bit of an eye-opener. That’s what people think I’m like, she realized. Perhaps even my own daughters…