One Night Only (97 page)

S
o
wh
y
di
d
Poll
y
fin
d
i
t
s
o
har
d
t
o
g
o
wit
h
th
e
flow?
Wh
y
di
d
sh
e
hav
e
t
o
b
e
s
o
stuff
y
an
d
piou
s
al
l
th
e
time?
Why
did
she
always
feel
so
goddamn
guilty
about
relaxing
,
eve
n
fo
r
on
e
minute
?
Wh
y
di
d
sh
e
alway
s
have t
o
b
e
s
o
highl
y
strung
,
a
s
Jame
s
tol
d
he
r
o
n
a
dail
y
basis?
W
h
y
,
wh
y
,
wh
y
?

“Ca
n
I
bu
y
yo
u
a
drink?
”

Polly
’
s
guil
t
tri
p
wa
s
interrupte
d
whe
n
sh
e
hear
d
a
very
deep
,
ver
y
rasp
y
voic
e
wit
h
a
Belfas
t
accent
.
Sh
e
looked u
p
t
o
se
e
th
e
gu
y
wit
h
th
e
Sta
g
M
e
Bitc
h
T
-shir
t
standing ove
r
he
r
.
Sh
e
notice
d
ho
w
h
e
looke
d
drun
k
an
d
a
bit unstead
y
o
n
hi
s
feet
.
Sh
e
didn
’
t
notic
e
hi
s
hug
e
muscly
arm
s
o
r
hi
s
gorgeou
s
blu
e
eye
s
bu
t
the
n
wh
y
woul
d
she?
Sh
e
wa
s
a
marrie
d
woman
.
I
t
wa
s
no
t
he
r
plac
e
t
o
notice suc
h
things
.
H
e
wa
s
a
youn
g
ma
n
wh
o
ha
d
obviousl
y
had fa
r
to
o
muc
h
t
o
drin
k
an
d
h
e
ha
d
n
o
ide
a
tha
t
h
e
was talkin
g
t
o
a
thirty-somethin
g
mothe
r
o
f
three
!
H
e
should b
e
ashame
d
o
f
himself
!
It
’
s
hi
s
sta
g
do
,
Poll
y
tol
d
herself.
Sto
p
bein
g
s
o
blood
y
judgmental
.

“
A
drink
?
Me
?
Aren
’
t
yo
u
gettin
g
marrie
d
soon?
”
she
sai
d
rathe
r
tartl
y
,
realisin
g
tha
t
he
r
mout
h
acte
d
a
lot quicke
r
tha
n
he
r
brain
.
Ther
e
sh
e
wa
s
again
.
T
ellin
g
people
o
ff
.
Naggin
g
someon
e
sh
e
didn
’
t
eve
n
know
!

“I
n
tw
o
weeks,
”
sai
d
th
e
Sta
g
Bo
y
an
d
h
e
swaye
d
slightly
t
o
th
e
music
.
“
I
onl
y
aske
d
yo
u
i
f
yo
u
wante
d
a
drink
.
I
didn
’
t
a
s
k
y
o
u
t
o
ru
n
awa
y
wit
h
m
e
t
o
Oute
r
Mongolia
an
d
neve
r
com
e
back
,
an
d
I
certainl
y
didn
’
t
expec
t
t
o
be me
t
wit
h
a
n
answe
r
m
y
mothe
r
woul
d
giv
e
me
!
Sorr
y
for disturbin
g
you
!
Y
o
u
jus
t
looke
d
a
bi
t
lonel
y
,
that
’
s
all!
”

H
e
lef
t
t
o
tur
n
awa
y
an
d
Poll
y
stoo
d
up
.

“
W
ait!
”
sh
e
called
.
“Pleas
e
wait
!
M
r
Sta
g
Boy
!
W
ait!”
Sta
g
turne
d
aroun
d
ver
y
,
ver
y
slowl
y
s
o
a
s
no
t
t
o
spill
hi
s
glas
s
o
f
vodk
a
tha
t
slappe
d
an
d
slurpe
d
aroun
d
i
n
his
glass
.
Hi
s
T
-shir
t
wa
s
staine
d
a
t
th
e
back
,
Poll
y
noticed. Re
d
win
e
perhaps
?
O
r a
bi
g
dollo
p
o
f
ketchup
?
O
r
worse, coul
d
i
t
b
e
blood
?
Sh
e
wondere
d
i
f
i
t
woul
d
com
e
ou
t
in th
e
wash
.
Stop
!
sh
e
tol
d
hersel
f
again
.
Sto
p
wit
h
the
domesti
c
shi
t
fo
r
once
!

“I’
d
lov
e
t
o
hav
e
a
drink,
”
sh
e
said
,
raisin
g
he
r
chin an
d
pullin
g
he
r
shoulder
s
back
.
“
I
wa
s
mile
s
awa
y
when yo
u
asked
.
I’
m
sorr
y
.
I’
m
s
o
sorr
y
fo
r
bein
g
rude.
”