Angel Kiss (6 page)

‘Is something wrong?’ He looked concerned.

‘Just headaches. My mum is making me get them checked out,’ I said, rolling my eyes.

‘Oh, that sucks,’ he said, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. ‘I’m so bored. Everyone’s busy and there’s nothing to do.’

‘You could come with me, if you like? I can’t promise it will be very exciting though.’

‘Sure, why not,’ said Colin. He began to count out his change. ‘When’s the bus due?’

‘It should be here in a few minutes.’

He sat down next to me on the wall. ‘Wanna play Would You Rather?’

‘OK.’

Colin smiled. ‘Right then, let me think. Would you rather … be able to read people’s minds or know their future?’ he asked, tilting his head.

‘Read their minds,’ I answered immediately. ‘I don’t think I’d like to know people’s futures. Dealing with the present is hard enough without knowing what’s coming next.’

‘Interesting. Now you go.’

I thought hard, wanting to come up with something good. ‘Would you rather … have to go to school naked for just one day, or have to go to school every day for the rest of your life?’

‘Naked for one day. No question about it,’ said Colin with a laugh. ‘Would you rather find true love or find a million euro?’

I pondered it for a moment but the answer was obvious. ‘True love,’ I said. ‘Would you rather … live without music or live without movies?’

‘Music,’ said Colin without hesitation. His answer surprised me. There was no way I could live without music. ‘Would you … rather drown or be strangled to death?’

‘Drown. Definitely.’

Forty minutes later we were sitting in the doctor’s waiting room. It was a bit depressing, with a dark brown carpet, hard wooden chairs and a stack of magazines that were more than a year old. Colin sat beside me, flicking through one of them. An elderly
woman in a navy headscarf sat across from me and a man with a toddler sat next to her.

‘I can feel the germs in the air,’ whispered Colin. ‘That kid doesn’t even cover his mouth when he coughs!’

‘Colin, he’s about two years old!’

‘So?’

The little kid coughed again and Colin flinched.

Eventually a woman in a cream blouse and brown trousers called my name. Presumably Dr Cahill. I nodded and rose from my seat. She was petite, probably about sixty, with glasses and black curly hair. I followed her into the surgery, which was painted white with a black couch against the wall. Dr Cahill sat down on her leather chair, rested her hands on the desk and smiled at me. I had never been nervous in the doctor’s before, but this time was different. This time there might actually be something seriously wrong with me. I tried not to think about that though.
Be positive
.

‘I don’t think we’ve met before, have we? I’m Dr Cahill.’

‘No, we haven’t,’ I said, sitting down on the chair opposite. ‘I’m Jacki King. My mum made the appointment. We’ve just moved here … Well, just moved to Avarna.’

‘Oh, where in Avarna? I live near there,’ she said, typing on her computer.

‘Up by the mines. Alf Meehan’s old house.’ People still referred to it as Alf’s. We’d probably have to be there a while before anybody called it the Kings’ house.

‘Ah yes. I heard that had been sold. Right, Jacki, what can I do for you?’

‘Well, I’ve been having these headaches. My mum is worried because, as she told your receptionist, my dad died of a brain tumour.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Jacki,’ she said. ‘I can understand why your mum might be worried, but it’s probably nothing serious. Can you describe the headaches for me?’

I thought about how to explain them. ‘Well, it’s like an elastic band has been strapped round my head, and someone keeps pulling it tighter and tighter.’ My headache had actually eased by now, but I’d never forget the pain.

‘That’s quite specific. OK, we’ll check you for allergies. Something you’re eating could be triggering them.’

Allergies. I liked the sound of that. It was a nice, logical explanation.

‘Is there anything else?’ asked Dr Cahill. I figured I might as well tell her about the other stuff. There was probably a simple explanation for that too.

‘Well … I keep having this nightmare …’ I began feeling slightly self-conscious. ‘I have the same one every night …’ I described the dream to her. When I’d finished she didn’t say anything for a few moments. I was certain I saw a tinge of fear in her eyes. It made me very uneasy.

‘Anything else?’ she said.

‘Well, I sort of had … like a panic attack or something … in the garden last night.’ I told her about that too.

‘The men from your dream … do you know them?’ she asked, still staring at me intently.

‘No. I’ve never seen either of them in my life.’

‘Could you describe the men to me again?’ she said.

I did. I described the man in the car with the frightening stare and the drunken man stumbling up the lane.

Dr Cahill typed something into her computer then turned back to me. ‘Jacki, have you ever met Alf Meehan?’ she asked.

‘No.’ It was a strange question. Immediately I thought of the threatening note I’d opened that was addressed to him and felt a chill. ‘Why?’

‘Because the drunk man you describe sounds exactly like him.’ She stared at me again for a few moments then opened one of the drawers of the desk and took out a business card. ‘There’s someone else I’d like you to consult, Jacki. I think I know someone who might be able to help you.’

She handed me the card. It was cream with simple black and gold lettering. Printed on it was a mobile number, an Avarna address, and the words
Ger Rapple, Healer
.

A healer?
It wasn’t what I was expecting at all. ‘What about the … the allergies?’

‘I’d like to rule something else out first,’ she said. ‘I believe this may be outside my area.’

‘What do you mean?’ I was getting worried now. I didn’t understand what was going on.

Dr Cahill lowered her voice. ‘I think we may be dealing with something … something supernatural.’

I laughed. ‘Um, OK.’ I waited for the punch line, but she just continued to stare at me with an intense expression. ‘What? Are you serious?’

‘Trust me,’ she said, standing up. ‘Go and see Mr Rapple. I think he may be able to help.’ She ushered me to the door. ‘But do come and see me again if the symptoms persist.’ She closed the door and I walked out of the clinic and into the street in a daze, forgetting Colin was with me.

‘Jacki!’ he called, rushing out after me. ‘Are you OK? What did she say?’ He looked concerned.

‘She thinks it might be an allergy,’ I said, avoiding eye contact with him. ‘I have to get tests done.’

‘Oh, right. Well at least you have an explanation now.’

‘Yes … kind of.’

I don’t know why I didn’t tell Colin what the doctor had actually said. I guess I was still in shock. I’d gone to the doctor thinking she could help me, and all she’d done was give me the phone number of a healer. I didn’t even believe in that sort of thing. The visit had been a complete waste of time.

‘You’re being very quiet,’ Colin observed as we walked along.

‘Am I?’ I said, pushing Ger Rapple’s business card further down in my jeans pocket.

I wanted to change the subject. I wanted to totally forget what had just happened.

‘I saw Sarah earlier,’ I said. I needed to talk about something normal.

‘Oh, yeah … she’s … she’s nice,’ said Colin, smiling half-heartedly. We arrived at the bus stop and I checked the times. There was one in six minutes.

‘She kind of blanked me,’ I said. ‘Well … maybe she just didn’t recognize me. I did only talk to her for a few minutes when I met her.’

‘She’s the most annoying girl who ever walked the planet,’ said Colin in one breath, then covered his mouth with his hand. ‘Oops,’ he said, ‘that just slipped out.’

‘You don’t like her?’ I said, intrigued. I sat down on the path beside Colin.

He crossed his arms. ‘I just find her really fake,’ he said. ‘I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous and all, but that doesn’t give her
the right to be so rude. She never makes an effort to talk to any of Nick’s mates. She thinks she’s better than all of us.’

‘Maybe she didn’t recognize me though, or maybe she thought I was being rude. I did kind of leave in a hurry the other day.’ I didn’t like to talk about people behind their backs, unless I was sure of my facts. It always came back to haunt me.

‘I doubt you did anything wrong. I don’t know any girls who like her. Worship her, yeah, terrified of her, yeah. But like her? No. Of course, most of the lads think she’s all right. Pretty girls get away with so much. I’m sure you know that.’

I blushed. I didn’t really see myself as pretty and got embarrassed when people referred to how I looked.

‘Have they been going out long?’ I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

‘About four months, I think. That’s the problem. He hasn’t been going out with her long enough.’

‘Long enough … for what?’

‘Long enough to find out what she’s really like: part stunner, part psycho.’

The way he said it made me laugh. ‘He must really like her,’ I said, thinking back to the way he’d looked at her in the shop.

‘Oh yeah, he thinks he’s totally in love with her.’

Great, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear. But it was sort of nice to know that Colin didn’t like her.

‘Crap, I need more change for the bus,’ he said, digging around in his pockets.

I took out my purse to check what I had, but he’d already run off to a nearby shop.

He came out a minute later carrying two ice-cream cones.

‘I hope you like sprinkles!’ he said just as the bus pulled up.

The next afternoon Colin had to help his mum in the guesthouse, so I decided to write some lyrics. I needed to forget about what had happened at the doctor’s the day before. That had really done my head in. I just couldn’t accept that all that stuff was caused by something … What had she called it? Paranormal? Supernatural? Whatever it was, it was weird, but there was no way I was calling it any of those things. Maybe I was in denial, but I just couldn’t go there. Mum had asked me how it went and seemed relieved when I used the allergies excuse again. I wasn’t ready to tell her what Dr Cahill had really said.

I didn’t need to think about that now; anyway I had more important things to consider. It was far too long since I’d written a song. The noise on the building-site-that-was-my-home wasn’t making it the most inspirational place to write, so I threw my notebook into my patchwork bag along with my favourite pen, and headed for the village. I knew exactly where I’d go – to Avarna’s communal garden. It was in a little hidden-away spot down by the river, the perfect place to write a song.

As I walked along the road I began to feel a bit better. I was happy with this plan. Arranging words to music has always been an important part of my life. After writing a song, I feel
like a weight has been lifted from me, as if some of my deepest feelings have been released. I suppose you could say it’s become my way of dealing with things. I find it much easier to write a song than to talk my problems over with somebody else. Putting the right words to my feelings seemed to make them more real, more permanent. Maybe that was why I found it so hard to find the words to describe what was happening … About what the doctor had said. I didn’t believe in that kind of thing. I didn’t want that to be part of my world, to consider the ‘supernatural’ a reality.

Love, on the other hand, was a totally different matter. I wanted that to be part of my life. I wanted it more than anything. I bent down and picked a daisy and pulled off the petals as I walked along. ‘He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me.’

I hurried down the path to the garden entrance, pushed open the white painted iron gate and stepped inside. The garden was surrounded by a low hedge. It was small but perfect, with a wrought-iron bench, a water fountain in the centre and a picnic table down near the river. I was glad to be alone in this miniature paradise.

A family of ducks floated on the river, the smallest one diving beneath the surface every few moments. The water was still except for the ripples made by the ducks. I was tempted to skim a stone and watch it bounce along the surface, but resisted. I didn’t want to frighten them away.

A path led through the garden to the wrought-iron bench, which was under an oak tree. The iron felt cold against my back as I settled down, my patchwork bag beside me. Hundreds of people must have sat on this bench, each with their own stories,
their own obsessions, their own pain. I took out my notebook and pen and started to write.

The words seemed to flow on to the page as easily as the river ran downstream. I like to just jot down whatever comes to me, not worrying whether it makes sense or not, and then work on it later. I read the words I’d just written, knowing that they were far from perfect, but knowing too that they reflected my feelings so, if nothing else, they were certainly honest.

When I thought about the last song I’d written it seemed like a lifetime ago. So much in my life had changed since then. I remembered it had been in Dublin, in my bedroom. I’d been so angry with Cian. I couldn’t believe what he’d done. When I thought back now I wondered if maybe I’d been angry with myself for putting up with his crap for so long.

I looked up at the sky with its patches of blue and vast white and grey clouds, and for the first time I felt happy to be living here. Maybe I could adjust to country life after all. I loved the quietness, the sense of peace. I began to understand why so many people moved away from cities. Mary had told me that there were lots of creative types living in and around the village, artists and musicians who had been captivated by its tranquillity. Maybe my songs would get better now that I had such an inspiring place to write.

I picked another daisy and began plucking off its delicate white petals. Each one spiralled in the air before dropping on to my notebook.

‘He loves me, he loves me not, he –’

The gate creaked. I looked up and was surprised to see Nick walking across the grass towards me, a guitar case slung across his back. Oh my god. I dropped the daisy to the ground and
slammed the notebook shut. It was so weird to be thinking about someone so intensely, and then for them to show up out of nowhere.