With All My Love (8 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

The next time Valerie saw Jeff Egan she was coming home from evening study, looking a sight in her green uniform and navy gabardine coat. She was standing in the queue in the chipper when he pushed open the door and came to stand behind her. He was scowling, his hands thrust into his duffel coat pockets and she wasn’t sure if he recognized her. He seemed rather preoccupied.

‘Hi, Jeff,’ she said casually, as her heart did a little flip-flop. What bad luck to be caught looking like a school kid. And she had a zit the size of an acorn on the side of her nose.

‘Oh . . . oh . . . hi, Valerie, how’s it going?’ he asked politely.

‘Fine.’ She was suddenly speechless. ‘Er, and how are you? How did your exam go?’

‘My exam?’

‘The term . . . termo . . . ?’ She couldn’t remember how to pronounce it.

‘The thermodynamics, yeah, it went grand. Got a B. Can I have a snack box and a Coke, please?’ He placed his order.

‘That was a good result,’ she persevered.

‘Um.’

‘Are you playing a match this weekend?’

‘Yep, are you going?’

‘Noooo!’ She smiled. ‘Your marriage prospects will be safe.’

He laughed that deep, hearty chuckle, and she felt ridiculously happy and wished her order hadn’t been processed so quickly.

‘Well, see you,’ she said, with pretend jauntiness as she took her change and her brown bag of battered sausage and chips.

‘Hey, listen, walk up the road with me, or are you in a hurry? They’re wrapping up my snack box now,’ he said easily.

‘I’m not in a hurry.’ She tried to keep her voice neutral.

‘So how’s the bulldog?’ she asked as they walked past the supermarket, devouring their steaming hot chips, the vinegary aroma scenting the night air.

‘Barking mad!’ he grimaced. ‘I swear to God, her cat gets better fed than us students. Just as well my ma packs me a box of goodies when I’m going back after the weekends.’

‘Have you succeeded in getting your girlfriend in yet?’ She pretended to be ever so casual when she asked the question.

‘Oh, we’re not dating any more. We were at a party last weekend and she got off with a guy who I thought was a mate.’ His face darkened in a scowl and she understood why he had looked so preoccupied and annoyed when she’d seen him earlier.

‘That’s awful!’ She was genuinely shocked that a dish like Jeff could get dumped.

‘She said she was pissed and she didn’t mean it and she wants us to get back together, but that’s just because I’ve got tickets for Queen. She can get lost,’ he growled, biting into a chicken leg.

‘You’ve got tickets for Queen! For the Crazy Tour? Wow!’ She couldn’t hide her envy.

‘Yep! Simmonscourt Pavilion. Eat your heart out, Ursula Byrne, ‘cos you won’t be going.’ He took a swig of his Coke. ‘So how’s the swotting coming along?’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘I just keep telling myself that this time next year it will be all over, and at least Christmas is coming so I can take a couple of days off.’ She tried to take a ladylike bite of her battered sausage instead of chomping half at once, as she usually did, but the grease ran down her chin and she had to wipe it away.

‘Once Christmas is over it will fly. The trick is to keep revising and not leave it to the last minute.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s what I’m doing. I swear to God I’ll never pick up another book once my exams are over. Lizzie and I are going to light a bonfire down on the beach and burn them.’

‘My ma made me sell mine back to the school to their second-hand shop. Got a few quid for them,’ he pointed out as they came to a halt opposite the Ball Alley.

‘I guess this is where we go our separate ways. Have a good weekend, Jeff. Hope you win your match on Sunday. And enjoy Queen. It will be amazing.’ She was sorry their short stroll together was at an end.

‘Do you fancy coming? I have a spare ticket now?’ He gave his lopsided grin.

‘Are you
serious
?’ She couldn’t believe her ears.

‘Yeah, why not? That’s if you want to,’ he added, scrunching his chip paper into a ball. ‘Maybe you don’t like them.’

‘I
love
Queen,’ she said fervently. ‘And I’ve never been to a pop concert.’

‘Me neither. We’ll be pop concert virgins. Will your da be OK with you going?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ she replied breezily, but her heart sank. Terence would refuse point-blank to let her go to a rock concert. There was no point in even asking him. She’d have to come up with some plausible fib.

‘Great, give me your phone number and I’ll give you mine and we’ll sort out arrangements. Do you have a pen?’ Jeff asked.

‘Sure.’ She scrabbled in her bag until she found one, wrote his number on the cover of her homework notebook, tore a page out and wrote hers on it. ‘The best time to get me is around five,’ she said, handing it to him. Her dad wouldn’t be home from work until six.

‘Right, I’ll keep that in mind. Roll on the twenty-second of November. I’ll have a Killer Queen on my arm and Ursula Byrne can go stuff herself.’ He smiled at her and she smiled back, wondering if she would wake up and find out it was all a dream.

‘You’re going to Queen with Jeff
Egan
?’ Lizzie’s voice rose an octave and her eyes were like saucers when Valerie imparted her news that night while they babysat for Lizzie’s older sister.

‘Yeah. Bad move, Ursula Byrne, whoever you are, dumping your boyfriend who has tickets for the concert of the decade.’ Valerie giggled. ‘Bet she’s kicking herself now.’

‘Deadly,’ Lizzie declared, pouring them two small vodkas and adding tonic, before replacing the bottles in her sister’s drinks cabinet. ‘I brought crisps too. And Martina left some sandwiches and cream sponge for us.’

‘And I’ve got chocolate.’ Valerie patted her bag.

They settled companionably on the sofa in front of a roaring fire with Sister Sledge singing ‘He’s the Greatest Dancer’ on the tape deck. Valerie hummed along happily, taking a packet of Tayto from her friend.

‘Now tell me everything again from the beginning.’ Lizzie took a slug of her drink.

Valerie relayed the events of a few hours earlier, with Lizzie interjecting a comment here or there. ‘The only thing is that he’s just bringing me to spite that Ursula one – it’s not as if he actually
fancies
me or anything – so it’s not a real date, but at least I get to see Queen,’ she said a little regretfully.

‘And do you fancy him?’ Lizzie eyed her sharply.

‘I think I do a bit. He’s gorgeous-looking and dead sexy in that black leather jacket, and he’s good fun too,’ Valerie admitted. ‘And it’s only a few months to my Leaving so once that’s over I could start dating him properly.’

‘Eight months, dear, not a few,’ Lizzie said drily. ‘A college boy is not going to wait eight months. I’m just saying that as your best friend who’s always honest with you.’

‘We can all have our fantasies,’ Valerie sighed.

‘Have you said anything to your folks?’ Lizzie broke off a square of chocolate.

‘What do you think?’ Valerie said gloomily. ‘I won’t be allowed to go and that’s it! I’ll just have to come up with something.’

‘Right . . . I figured that.’ Lizzie thought for a moment. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. Tell them you’re going on a field trip . . . geography. Remember the one we went on for the Inter?’

‘Yeah, but that’s not going to go on all night. The concert doesn’t start until eight.’

‘I know, you can say you’re babysitting with me, and we’re revising for the Christmas exams. We won’t be home until after midnight tonight so that’s nothing unusual.’

‘It’s on a Thursday night, though, which is a bit of a pain in the ass. If it was on a Friday it would be much easier to spoof!’

‘Well, just say Martina’s going to a wedding and it’s a great opportunity to get some serious revision done,’ Lizzie improvised rapidly.

‘Do you think?’ Valerie asked doubtfully.

‘Yeah, go for it.’ Lizzie sounded confident. She jumped up and held a pretend mic, belting out ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’. ‘Do you know how lucky you are? I’m pea green with envy. Just as well you’re my best friend.’

‘I’m glad you are. I wish you were coming. It would be a blast.’ Valerie hugged her.

‘Bet there’s no tickets left. I’ll ask Phil if he could get any but I won’t hold my breath. Now start rehearsing what you’re going to say to your da.’

‘It’s a comparative study to the one we did for the Inter.’ Valerie tried to sound nonchalant the following Saturday as she broached the subject before her father began to look at the afternoon sport. She thought ‘comparative study’ sounded serious and intellectual.

‘Would you not be better off sitting at your desks studying like we had to?’ Terence grumbled.

‘Well, social geography is different,’ she explained. ‘We’re studying dormitory towns outside of Dublin.’

‘And how many of you are going? Is it just an excuse for a doss?’ He settled himself in his armchair ready to study the RTE guide to see what was on TV.

‘No, no,’ she assured him hastily, banishing an image of a bottle of vodka being passed surreptitiously around the back of a tour bus, on a previous field trip, and Ashlynn Callaghan puking her guts up out the window on the way home after drinking half a bottle of Malibu, while her friend told the geography teacher earnestly that she was a very poor traveller.

‘Only the honours students,’ Valerie lied.

‘And how much is this going to cost me?’ Her father arched a bushy eyebrow at her.

‘Um . . . one pound fifty,’ she ventured, unable to believe her luck.

‘Daylight robbery,’ he groused, extracting two silver pound coins from his wallet. Valerie took the money calmly. Now she wouldn’t have to fund her trip out of her own money either. This was a real bonus.

‘Thanks, Dad.’ There was a hint of warmth in her tone. This was an uncharacteristically kind gesture from her father.

‘Give me back the change and you can pay me back when you start working again,’ he growled, returning to form. He had made her give up her Saturday job at the local hairdresser’s until her exams were over and she really missed the money.

‘Oh, and I’ll be going straight to Lizzie’s after we get home. She’s babysitting and we’re going to do maths revision. We’ve a big test the next day,’ she said flatly.

‘I thought you babysat on Fridays.’ He eyed her suspiciously.

‘Her sister’s going to a wedding.’

‘Go on,’ he grunted, turning his attention back to his magazine.

Valerie walked out into the kitchen, feeling strangely dejected. She should have been on a high; it had all gone so smoothly. But for one brief moment she’d felt her da was like every other dad she knew when he’d handed her the coins. Her heart had actually lifted. There’d been a rare, fleeting moment of happiness and then he’d ruined it all and she felt a fool for thinking anything had changed.

‘Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,’ the crowd sang lustily with Freddie Mercury urging them on and Brian May giving it wellie on the guitar. Jeff and Valerie grinned at each other as they bopped exuberantly and sang their hearts out. From the moment the lights had dimmed and the roar of welcome from the crowd had nearly lifted the roof off the pavilion as the Pizza Oven stage rig exploded into light, Valerie had been in heaven. Freddie Mercury was almost within touching distance as he started the show with ‘Let Me Entertain You’ and then belted out ‘We Will Rock You’.

At first she’d been shy about joining in the singing but as the band played all those songs that she sang and danced to at the disco in Hanlon’s, she gave herself up to the music, and forgot her inhibitions. She was glad she’d worn her good jeans and a glittery boob tube. It was a perfect look for the concert, she and Lizzie had decided, after much trying on and discarding of outfits. Lizzie had done her make-up for her, in the school loo, and packed her school uniform neatly in a plastic bag before transforming her into a disco diva. Jeff had told her that a private bus was going from Wicklow. It would be leaving after the concert and would stop at Rockland’s on the journey back so she’d booked a ticket, delighted that there would be no hassle in getting to and from the venue.

Jeff had met her off the bus and they had gobbled down a pizza, which she had insisted on paying for, before joining the queue. The doors opened at seven and they surged through. Jeff had his arm around her as they made their way to their assigned area and when they got there, he bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled her closer, and she was secretly thrilled until she realized he was putting on a show for his mates from college, who also had tickets for the same section, and whom Ursula would have known. They had all been coming to the concert as a group.

It dawned on Valerie that Jeff was pretending she was his new girlfriend, and to good effect. One scrawny blonde with purple eye shadow, tight black jeans that hugged her pipe-cleaner legs, and a bright green halter-neck top that showed off her bony shoulders, was giving her daggers looks. A friend of Ursula’s, Valerie instantly deduced. Jeff clearly had an agenda and she was his pawn, she thought in dismay. Even though it was the kind of thing girls did all the time, she’d never thought that boys would be hurt enough to try and make a girl jealous.

‘So I guess word will get back to Ursula that you were seen at Queen with a new girl,’ she shouted into his ear amid the din, determined to let him know that she had him sussed.

‘What?’ He looked down at her, startled.

‘That blonde girl just over there that keeps giving me dirty looks – is she one of Ursula’s friends? That’s why you brought me, wasn’t it, to make Ursula jealous?’

A dull red foamed up over his shirt collar, rising to his hairline, and she knew she had mortified him. Good, she thought viciously. He had just proved her point. All men were bastards.

‘Look . . . er . . . yeah. I did ask you to make her jealous, but I don’t care now. I’m having fun and I’m glad you’re with me. I could have sold the ticket but when I saw you in the chipper that day I thought I’d ask you. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, honest. And then I thought I could make Ursula jealous as well because I wanted to get back at her . . .’ His voice trailed away and he couldn’t look at her.