The Fall Girl (26 page)

For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee. Psalms 86:5

I've written a letter. Sorry, letters. It's my fifth attempt. The first one was to Father Vincent, telling him to stick his job offer, to keep his nose out of my business and, while he was at it, to tell my father to do his own dirty work in future. I tore that one up. Why shoot the messenger? The second had the same message, only I addressed it to my father. That's in the bin too. The third was a short note to Father Vincent formally declining the offer. Also binned. The fourth was an angry letter to my father, asking him who the hell he thought he was trying to run my life for me, and that he needn't worry his cowardly head about me embarrassing him any more,
because I've no intention of ever living with him again. I haven't torn that one up yet. Here's the last one.

Dear Daddy,

I haven't yet thought about what I'm going to do when I leave here. I've been much too busy trying to figure out how I got here in the first place. Please let Father Vincent know that I won't be accepting the offer. Whatever I decide to do, I've no intention of hiding away for the rest of my life. I want to move forwards, not backwards, and I thought that, seeing as you're so concerned about my future, maybe you could help me to move on by answering a few questions for me.

All my life, I've been trying to figure out why we were such an unhappy family. Looking back on my childhood, which I've been doing quite a lot this past couple of months, I struggle to remember any happy times, and the few good memories I do have all occurred before Aunty Lily died. How come? What happened in the days and weeks after Aunty Lily's death that caused my mother to stop loving us? And Aunty Lily. Had it something to do with that row ye had with Xavier? Or that strange man who turned up at the funeral? I could never figure out why she was so unhappy and so angry. Somehow, I felt that it had something to do with me, but how could it have? I was just a kid. Why did you allow her to treat us the way she did? I don't blame you, Daddy. At this stage, I just what to know the truth. You might think it's none of my business, but it is, because it affected me as much, if not more, than it affected you. I have the right to know why my mother stopped loving me.

And then there's the issue of the marriage cert. I know I was born three months after your wedding. What I can't figure out is why you won't level with me after all these years. I understand that you don't want to let Mammy down by admitting she had sex
before marriage, but the evidence is there that she did, either with you or with someone else, even if it happened without her consent. Did it?

These are the questions that have been haunting me for several weeks, Daddy, so I hope you find the courage to be honest with me. And I hope you're well
.

Frances

I won't post it for a couple of days.

I'm wondering if I should write to Lesley, now that I'm in a letter-writing mood. Would it do any good? What would she think, hearing from me after all these years? Would she really want to know what has happened to me over the past few months? Would she care? She would have, once upon a time. She'd have loved the drama of it. She'd have been right there in that courtroom. In the front row.

But people change, move on; well, most people that is. Obviously she has. I wonder what her life is like – if she's happy, if she ever thinks about me, and if she does, is she still angry?

I'm in an awful state. I can't believe what I've done. The sex was supposed to make me feel better, but it hasn't. It was rushed, rough and vulgar. He never looked at me; he just squeezed me, while I looked out over his shoulder at the rain
and cried. He didn't even notice. I don't ever want to see him again.

I've tons of homework, but I can't do a stroke, not until I've rung Lesley. She'll be waiting for my call. First, I need to calm down. I feel so emotional. I'm gutted over the way she dumped me in Enniskillen and then lied to me about it. Is that all she thinks of me – her best friend? I'm so angry with her, and Johnny, and myself, for that matter, because I've decided not to confront her about her deception. Instead, I'm going to forgive her: I love her too much not to. It's better to forget what I've heard and to carry on as usual than to risk falling out with her. Besides, I've already had my revenge, horrible as it was.

Several times I go down to the hall and pick up the receiver, but as soon as I start dialling, I panic and hang up. What if she's already been talking to Jackie or Orla? I'm not convinced they believed my story. They said they did, but their expressions didn't back up their words. They kept giving each other doubtful looks. On second thoughts, maybe I should tell Lesley the truth. I don't need to say that we went all the way, just that we had a kiss. If I explain how hurt I felt over her lying to me, she's bound to understand, isn't she? After all, we've both made mistakes. We both need to forgive and to be forgiven.

Just as I'm about to pick up the phone again, it rings.

‘Hello.'

‘Hiya.'

‘Lesley!' Thank God she sounds cheerful. ‘I was just about to ring you.'

‘The gingerbread man beat you to it.'

‘You've been talking to him?'

‘Yeah, for a whole hour. He's coming down to see me on Friday night.'

Jesus! So much for him wanting me to be his girlfriend. Not that I want to be, but God, what's he up to now?

‘I can't fucking wait,' she says. ‘I feel like Rapunzel stuck inside this house for the past week. It's doing my head in. Bad as school is, this kip's way worse.'

‘So you're still as mad about him as ever then?'

‘Madder.'

‘Oh.' I know now that if I tell her the truth, our friendship is over.

As she babbles on about what he said to her and what she said to him, it becomes apparent that he hasn't mentioned anything about me being in the van with him. He and I hadn't discussed what excuse I'd come up with for disappearing from the school for over an hour. As soon as the sex was over for him, he drove me back in silence as far as the end of the avenue, where he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said he'd see me the following Wednesday. Luckily, my biology teacher was doing an experiment and had not noticed my absence.

‘So, you weren't talking to Jackie or Orla this evening?'

‘No,' she says. ‘Not yet. But I'm expecting Jackie any minute. She met Keith down the town earlier on and told him she'd be calling over to see me.'

I have to tell her what I told the girls quickly before Jackie gets to her house to fill her in.

‘Lesley, Johnny's really cracked about you.' I can hear the quiver in my voice.

‘Do you really think so?'

‘I know so. He told me.'

She screams down the phone. ‘Yes! Tell me more.'

‘I was nearly caught talking to him.'

‘By who?'

‘Sister Bernadine.'

‘Ah, I wouldn't worry about
her
. She's seen me there with him loads of times. Sure, you know yourself, the daft oul bat hasn't a clue who's who.'

‘She might be a bit doddery, but she's no fool. She must have known there was something going on when she complained to PMT about all the girls hanging around the bread van. Anyway, I had to get into the van to dodge her.'

‘Why didn't you just run off like we usually do?'

‘Cos I still had the note in my pocket, so I hopped into the passenger seat and ducked.'

She starts to laugh. ‘Oh, you're a mad bitch, fair dues to you.'

‘It wasn't fucking funny. I waited ages for her to go back into the ref so that I could get out, but she didn't. I'm telling you, she definitely suspected something, because she hung around outside waiting for Johnny to leave and I couldn't budge. I was trapped.'

‘Ya poor eejit, ya.'

‘In the end, Johnny had to drive off with me still in the van.'

‘Go way.'

‘Honest to God. I never felt as sick in my life. I thought, this is it, I'm going to be expelled and all because of Lesley Kelly and her mental love life.'

‘Oh, sorry.' She's still giggling.

‘It's all right.' I'm glad now I opted for the lie.

‘So what happened then?'

‘We parked out the road, had a couple of smokes and talked about you.'

‘What did he say?'

‘That he loved you.' Well, it is what she wants to hear. And with any luck, it might turn her off him. Any boyfriend
who'd been foolish enough to mention the ‘L' word to Lesley ended up getting the heave-ho within a week. ‘I would've got out at the end of the avenue only he kept going on about you and asking me tons of questions. I'm telling you, he has it bad.'

‘Do you really think so?'

‘Definitely.'

‘Then why does he act so bloody cool? I mean, even on the phone this evening, I practically had to beg the bollocks to meet me on Friday night. I just don't know what to make of him.'

‘He's trying to keep you keen.'

‘Are you serious?'

‘Yeah. He reckons if he was all over you, you'd get bored.'

‘That's the crafty oul fecker. He's playing games with me.'

‘He's right though, isn't he? If he was smothering you with attention, you'd have dumped him long ago.'

‘Johnny can give me as much attention as he likes. I'll never stop loving him.'

‘You sound happy.'

‘Happy! Cloud nine my arse, I'm on fucking Jupiter. I was beginning to think he was just using me.'

Shit! I've gone too far. I've built up her hopes, knowing that Johnny has every intention of letting her down. I didn't set out to hurt her, it's just …

‘So youse didn't talk about anything else except me.'

‘No, not a thing.'

‘Lovely stuff! He really does have it bad so.'

‘Don't tell him I told you what he said.'

‘I won't.'

‘In fact, as far as you're concerned, I just gave him the note and left.'

‘OK. Oh, there's the doorbell now. It's probably Jackie. Hang on a second.'

I hear her telling Jackie that I'm on the phone.

‘I'd better go. Jackie's in a tizzy about something. I'll talk to you tomorrow and thanks; you're the fucking best.'

‘You're welcome.'

‘Oh, hang on a second, Frances. What was that, Jackie?'

I hear mumbling in the background.

‘Jackie wants to know if you've looked in the mirror lately.'

‘Looked in the mirror? Why? What's she on about?'

‘She wants to know what you're on about,' she says to Jackie.

‘Tell her she'll know when she looks in the mirror.'

‘She says –'

‘Yeah, I know. I heard her.'

‘Well, when you find what you're looking for, let me know, won't you?'

‘Yeah, OK. I'll talk to you later,' I say, a horrible sense of uneasiness sweeping over on me.

Standing in front of the hall mirror, I take several deep breaths before slowly raising my eyes in dread. What? I can't see anything unusual. Fair enough, my hair is a bit of a mess, but then my hair is always like that – wild-looking. It's all the gel I use. What am I supposed to be looking for? Do I look like I've just lost my virginity? Do I look like a slut? A liar? What's she on about?

Back in my bedroom, I start imagining the conversation that is taking place between Lesley and Jackie. It switches from talking about the good friend I am one minute, to calling me a scheming bitch the next. In fact, under the circumstances, it wouldn't surprise me if they were planning on battering the crap out of me.

Stop panicking, I think, flicking through my Maths book. Why would they? They don't know what I've done. They couldn't possibly.

I muddle through my homework as best I can, but at the back of my mind the question is still niggling me – What am I supposed to see in the mirror?

Before I go to bed, I go into the bathroom to wash my hair. Filling the wash-hand basin with warm water, I take off my cardigan and turn down the collar of my uniform blouse. As I lower my head into the water, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and there it is – a dirty big love bite on the side of my neck. SHITE! How the hell had I missed it? I turn the collar back the way it had been just to see if it covers the bruise. It does, except when I turn my head to the right.

When my mother calls me for school the following morning, I'm already awake.

‘I suppose you are a bit on the pale side,' she says when I tell her I have a woeful headache and cannot go to school.

I spend the next three days moping around the house in my dressing-gown and slippers. With all the hours I have to rack my brains, I cannot think of a way out of the mess I'm in. By Sunday afternoon, I haven't made or received any phone calls. My mother says that if I'm not fit for school the following morning, I'll have to see the doctor, because three days is too long for anyone to have a headache. What am I going to do? I cannot face losing Lesley. Without her, my life is a joke. I should have rung her as soon as I saw the love bite and told her I'd had a snog with one of the boys from the village. Out of desperation, she might have believed me. But I was in that
much of a heap at the time, I couldn't think clearly. She's bound to have come to the conclusion by now that I'm as guilty as sin.

‘You didn't have any breakfast,' my mother says, nabbing me on my way out the door on Monday morning.

‘I didn't feel like it.'

She's been watching me closely over the past few days. She knows there's something up.