‘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.
Chapter 6
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.
‘Hi, Jacki,’ he said.
‘Hey.’ I was so surprised by his arrival that I didn’t have time to get anxious about it. Nick looked like he hadn’t got much sleep, but still managed to look irresistible.
‘What’s the story?’ he said.
‘Nothing much.’
‘Are you going to the table quiz in the parish hall tonight?’ He took his guitar off his shoulder.
‘I don’t know; maybe,’ I said. I remembered Mum mentioning something about it the previous week. The idea of it hadn’t exactly excited me.
‘Well, if you do go, you can be on our team if you want. Sarah has to work so we’re one short.’
I was suddenly most definitely going to the table quiz in the parish hall. I hoped that he hadn’t noticed my face light up.
