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Authors: Sinead Moriarty

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BOOK: Whose Life is it Anyway?
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So, Sarah watched patiently as I tried on my long pink fishtail skirt with my long white shirt with the Elvis collar and a pink belt hanging over the shirt at the hips. Then I tried on my long black fishtail skirt with a long black and white striped shirt and a black belt. My red cords with the white shirt and a red satin waistcoat. My black leggings with my black miniskirt over them, and the white shirt with the black belt.

‘Yes,’ said Sarah. ‘That’s what you should wear.’

We then put on our makeup. Egypt Wonder – lots of it – black eyeliner, and pink lipstick. I put on my chandelier diamanté earrings and brooch to match, then got undressed. I put on my jeans and packed my leggings and mini in Sarah’s bag. My father did not view leggings as trousers. He said they were nothing more than tights, and he was not a fan of the miniskirt: only cheap girls wore minis…

When we finally came out Finn was hovering by the door. He sniggered when he saw us.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Your faces are bright orange.’

‘It’s called makeup, you nerd, and at least we don’t have buck teeth.’

I know it was mean, but I was really nervous. I’d be nice to him tomorrow after I’d snogged someone.

We went downstairs and my mother told us we looked lovely. My father glanced up from the paper and muttered something about girls in trousers giving the wrong impression to young lads. My mother winked and told us we’d knock all the boys dead, then gave me two pounds for a Coca-Cola.

Did I get off with someone? Yes. Was it nice? No. For the first half-hour we stood around trying to look cool, sipping our vodka and Coke. Sarah had nicked some vodka from her parents’ drinks cabinet, which we had mixed with the Coke in the loo while I was getting changed.

When we’d finished our drinks we went to dance with the rest of our group, Suzanne, Saoirse and Deirdre. We danced in a circle, shuffling from side to side, trying to blend in. Then the DJ played a slow song, so we sprinted to one side of the room, as did the lads. We stood praying that someone would ask us to dance. One by one the others got asked up and just as I was wishing the floor would open up and swallow me, I heard a voice asking me to dance.

He had greasy hair and a bad case of acne. But he was a boy and he wanted to dance. Besides, when we snogged I’d have my eyes closed so I wouldn’t see the spots. We shuffled around to ‘Careless Whisper’, ‘True’ and ‘Stairway to Heaven’. It was during ‘True’ that Frank shoved his tongue into my mouth and for the whole of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ I twirled mine – anti-clockwise, by the way – and tried desperately to breathe through my nose. There was saliva everywhere and it was gross, but at least I could say I’d done it.

When Frank finally came up for air, he wiped the saliva off his chin with his jumper and asked if I wanted to go outside. Now, I knew that going outside meant more snogging and maybe second base. I decided I might as well get some more experience and was also secretly hoping that the kissing would get better. As we walked outside, squeezing between the other couples lined up against the wall, I tried to suck all the saliva I could out of my mouth so it was bone dry. Off we went again, anti-clockwise, cold wet saliva being recycled in our mouths. Then Frank asked if he could go down.

Go down? What the hell was that? No one had ever mentioned going down. I had no idea what he meant. Maybe it meant give me a love bite. Aha! That would be cool. Going to school on Monday with a love bite! Yes, I wanted one of those. ‘Sure,’ I said, smiling.

So Frank shoved his hand down my leggings and into my knickers. I screamed like a banshee. He nearly died, and so did I when I saw everyone staring at us. I pushed him away and ran home.

Siobhan was up when I got back. When she saw the state I was in, she brought me into the kitchen and tried to calm me down. ‘What happened to you?’

‘You stupid cow.’ I blubbed. ‘You never said anything about going down. I didn’t know what it meant and then when he did it I nearly died. So I screamed and everyone saw and it was awful.’ I was sobbing into a tea-towel – my life was over. My friends would desert me. No guy would ever go near me again. I’d be known as tight. I’d be lucky if Noreen O’Reilly gave me the time of day.

‘Who was he? What did he do?’ Siobhan sounded genuinely concerned.

‘Some rapist called Frank. He stuck his hand down my pants.’

‘Oh, my God, that’s awful. Why on earth did you let him?’

‘Because I didn’t know what it meant and I didn’t think you jumped from first base to third without going to second! What am I going to do? Everyone heard me screaming. I can never go back to school. I’ll have to pretend I have a vocation and join the nuns.’

‘Stop being so dramatic. It’s not that bad. He was obviously a creep and you were right to scream. Forget about it, and if anyone slags you just ignore them.’

Siobhan didn’t understand. How could she? She was surrounded by girls who embraced their Irishness and thought she was a goddess because of the dancing and Liam. She was full of confidence. I, on the other hand, hung out with girls who shunned their Irishness and I had no confidence because I was the loser of my group.

I knew Deirdre would be vicious on Monday and make a fool of me. I was dreading it. The others always laughed at her slags because they were a bit afraid of her. Deirdre was the only girl in school who answered back to the nuns. She was always in detention. The only reason she hadn’t been expelled was because Sister Patricia, the headmistress, had a soft spot for her: Deirdre’s father had run off to Scotland with Mrs Hogart from our road and her mother now suffered from depression. Sister Patricia was determined to save Deirdre’s soul. It was a lost cause as far as I could see, but she wasn’t one to give up easily.

I would be a laughing-stock at school. ‘I’m going to bed. My life is over,’ I said, getting up to make a dramatic exit.

‘You’re not the only one with problems,’ said Siobhan, beginning to cry.

‘Let me guess. You only got an A minus in your latest exam,’ I said, and stormed out.

8

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed and went to Irish dancing, then tap to meet Sarah and dissect the awfulness of what had happened. She was very sweet, as always, and assured me I’d been right to scream. I made her tell me what the others had said after I left, and eventually she admitted that they hadn’t been very nice.

I was devastated. My life at school would be hell now. Sarah said she’d stick by me, but I knew how difficult it would be for her: if she did, she’d be an outcast of the cool group too. It wasn’t fair on her. I told her it was OK, she could hang around with the others. I’d have to ask Noreen O’Reilly if I could hang out with her group. It was the worst day of my life – and then my mother walked into the class as we were mid-tap. She was bawling.

I nearly died. I actually think my heart stopped. My mother very rarely cried. I had broken her heart by lying to her about tap dancing. As she walked towards me I began to cry too. I felt awful. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to upset you. Please forgive me. Don’t cry, please, Mum.’

She looked utterly devastated. She took me by the hand and walked me out of the class.

She didn’t speak to me until we were sitting in the car. When she closed her door, she began to howl. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never seen her like this. My God, she must really hate tap dancing – Granny Byrne should have warned me. This was awful. The weekend was turning out to be a complete nightmare. I wouldn’t have to worry about snogging boys any more. By the looks of things I’d be grounded until I was forty. Then it hit me. If my mother was this upset, imagine what my father would be like.

I panicked. ‘Mum, does Dad know?’

She didn’t answer me, she just kept sobbing. Oh, my God, this was awful! He must have found out, gone mad and sent her down to collect me. He was waiting at home to torture me for lying. Oh God oh God oh God! Stupid bloody tap dancing.

My mother’s crying was really distressing me now. She was almost hysterical. ‘Mum,’ I said, ‘Mum, listen to me. I’m so sorry, I am so very, very sorry. I swear it will never happen again. I’ll never lie again.’

Suddenly she stopped crying and looked at me. Then she hugged me and started bawling again. My mother wasn’t normally a hugger. This was all most irregular. I had clearly pushed her over the edge this time. She’d end up going on ‘holidays’ like Uncle Pat. Oh, God, what had I done?

Eventually she was able to speak. ‘Niamh, I want you to listen to me very carefully,’ she said. She was speaking slowly, as if she was talking to a foreign person. ‘Your sister has done a terrible thing and has brought shame on our family. Our lives will never be the same again. It’s going to be very hard for you and Finn, but especially for you because you’re a girl. Your father is devastated, as am I, but we’re going to have to put our best foot forward. I’ll need you to be very strong. People are going to talk about us and spread nasty rumours. I want you to hold your head up high and ignore them. Remember, Siobhan is your sister, and although she has done a terrible thing, it’s going to be harder for her than anyone else.’

I had no idea what she was talking about. Siobhan bringing shame on the family? What on earth did she mean? Had she come last in the Irish-dancing competition? ‘Mum,’ I said gently – she had started crying again – ‘Mum, I don’t know what you mean. What has Siobhan done?’

My mother stared out of the window. Her mouth was set in a tight hard line. ‘Your fool of a sister has gone and got herself pregnant.’

OH MY GOD
. I was gobsmacked. Siobhan! Pregnant! I just couldn’t believe it. No wonder my mother was so upset. This was the worst thing that could happen to an unwed Irish girl. Wow, I thought. So Siobhan was having sex with Liam. I saw her in a whole new light. But to have got caught by getting pregnant! My father would go insane. He’d never get over it.

Then it occurred to me, in my self-obsessed fifteen-year-old way, that this might work in my favour. Clearly my mother hadn’t noticed I was doing tap so my secret was safe. Plus, I’d be in the cool gang again because they’d all want to know about my wild sister. Siobhan a rebel – who would have thought it? And I would no longer be the one who always messed up. I know it’s awful, but that was what I was thinking when my mother interrupted me.

‘Now, you listen here, missy. That disco you went to last night is the first and last one you will ever go to. You are not even so much as to look at a boy. Siobhan has ruined her life and I’ll be damned if you’ll go the same way. You’ll put your head down and start working really hard in school. You’re going to college like Siobhan was supposed to and make the most of the opportunities your dad and I could only dream of. There will be no more messing and no more bad reports. I’m warning you.’

Oh, God, my life
was
over. My mother had one main obsession and it was that we all go to university. My father saw no need for women to study after school. He thought we should focus on getting married and having children – as opposed to having babies unwed at seventeen. But this was one area in which my mother put her foot firmly down. She drilled it into us that we were to go to college, get a proper education, have a career, and then meet someone nice and settle down. But college came first.

That was OK for Siobhan, who was planning to go to university in Ireland and study Gaelic. This was the only option my father would agree to. It was the compromise he and my mother had reached, regarding higher education. You could go to college but only in Ireland.

Well, that had been Siobhan’s Plan A. I was sure Plan B would be a lot different. I, on the other hand, wanted to be an air-stewardess. I wanted to wear a glamorous uniform, bright red lipstick and three-inch heels. It seemed so easy – get dressed up, look beautiful and smile a lot. And you got to travel for free.

Also, I wasn’t very good in school and I didn’t like homework. Apparently at college you had loads of work to do, with massive essays called theses, and I had no interest in that. Besides, I didn’t want to go and live in Ireland. I loved London – it was vibrant and cutting-edge. Rock stars lived in London, for goodness’ sake.

I decided to remain silent for the rest of the journey home. My mother was driving like a lunatic, swerving all over the road as she thumped the steering-wheel and repeated over and over, ‘Stupid girl, stupid girl.’ I actually began to feel sorry for Siobhan. My father must be giving her an awful roasting.

When we got home, he and Siobhan were sitting in the front room. Siobhan’s face was puffy and blotched from crying and she looked shattered. I went over and gave her a hug. It was awkward and I felt a bit embarrassed, but she clung to me like a terrified child, so I was glad I’d made the effort. Eventually I prised her hands off my back and sat down. Finn had gone to Leeds to play in some hurley league, so he was spared the drama.

It was only when I glanced at my father that the magnitude of what was happening hit me. He had aged ten years in one morning. He was utterly deflated, like a man who has lost everything. He sat in his favourite chair, shoulders hunched, head down, sobbing into his big white hankie. I knew then that I might as well pack it all in and join a nunnery. My social life, which hadn’t even begun, was never going to happen now. As I tried to picture myself in a nun’s habit the doorbell rang out ‘Danny Boy’.

It was Uncle Tadhg and Auntie Nuala. They were brilliant. Auntie Nuala hugged my mother, then my father, Siobhan and even me. She said loudly, and a little too cheerfully, ‘It’s like a bloody morgue in here. Come on, now, no one’s dead. We’ll sort this out,’ and squeezed my mother’s hand. Mum smiled gratefully. She needed Auntie Nuala. She was too shell-shocked to think straight.

Uncle Tadhg went over and thumped my father awkwardly on the back – displays of brotherly affection were strictly post a tumbler or two of whiskey. ‘Come on now, Mick, don’t be getting yourself into a state. It’ll be OK. We’re all here for you.’

‘It’s a bloody mess,’ said my father. ‘A disgrace. I’ve broken my back working to give my children a better life, a good education, food on the table and a roof over their heads, and what do they do? Bring shame on me.’

BOOK: Whose Life is it Anyway?
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