He whistles in surprise. ‘God damn. Haven’t heard that name for a long time.’ He searches my eyes. ‘Why’d you want to know?’
I press my back against the booth. ‘She was my mother.’
Bishop’s eyebrows hit the roof of his head.
‘Did you know Violet?’ I say.
He shifts in his seat, shrugs. ‘Not really. Saw her around town.’
‘Don’t suppose you saw her with anyone? A man, possibly?’
Bishop passes a hand across his forehead. ‘Saw her once slinking around the edge of the woods with Christian Earhart.’
The growing knot in my gut twists harder.
‘Go on,’ I say.
Bishop leans forward and lowers his voice conspiratorially. ‘There she was, sitting on the fence, swinging her legs and smoking and talking to Christian.’
‘The Mayor?’ Fab5 says, and frowns.
Something sharp lodges itself in my chest.
Bishop continues. ‘Christian was one of the few young men in this town with money in his pocket and that lent a certain shine to him.’ He grins. ‘It’s hard to believe it now, looking at the shape of him, but Christian was well put together in those days, a fine big strapping lad.’ Bishop leans in closer. ‘He told me the last thing he needed was to be hooked by Violet’s dirty ways. She, uh, had a bit of a reputation back then, you see.’
Rage rests heavy on my shoulders. ‘You’re talking about my mum there, Bishop. You’d do well to remember it.’ I speak low and soft, but it’s my expression that startles Bishop. Cold-eyed and with a smile that says I could climb over the table and finish him off with my bare hands.
My mother was thirteen.
His dark eyes turn into slits. ‘I meant no offence.’
‘None taken,’ Fab5 says. He nudges me. ‘Is there, man?’
I nod imperceptibly, drop my stern smile.
‘There now,’ Fab5 says. ‘Let’s play nice, boys.’
Bishop takes a sly gander at me, straightens up. ‘If you’d prefer I dressed it up a bit? Tidied the corners? I only say it how I saw it.’
‘And isn’t that the best way, Shepherd?’ Fab5 says.
I pause, watch a spider crawl under the table.
Bishop snorts. ‘Now I can see it.’
I light an electronic cigarette. ‘See what?’
I offer one to Bishop. He declines. ‘You have your mum’s eyes,’ he says. ‘Wild.’
‘I do? And what about my dad? Do I look like my dad?’
‘I’ve no answer for you there, Shepherd.’
‘My dad was anyone and no one, was he?’
Bishop looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. ‘You were a bye-child. There wasn’t anyone that could have made her decent.’
I take a long, hard drag of my smoke. ‘What was she like?’
Bishop grimaces. ‘Dunno. She never said more than five words to me.’
I snap my eyes to his, figure the lie. It’s a soft lie, badly delivered.
He knows something. He fucking knows something.
‘Just tell me something about her,’ I grit out.
Bishop studies his knuckles. ‘Violet was from another world. As I said, I didn’t really know her.’
He’s stone-cold lying.
I should know. It takes a liar to catch a liar.
‘Think we’re done here. For now,’ I tell Bishop. ‘Wouldn’t mind bringing us another round of coffee, eh? Cheers.’
Bishop looks stumped, then goes back to the bar. A waitress brings over our coffee. Bishop is nowhere in sight.
‘You know Ella?’ Fab5 says. ‘The redhead from the club that keeps coming on to you?’
‘Vaguely. Why?’
‘You didn’t sleep with her, did you?’
I glug back my coffee. It tastes bitter. Lukewarm. ‘Told you already — she’s not my type. Nowhere close.’
Sunshine brain hair.
Little emerald cities.
Princess dresses and cookie dough.
‘Good,’ Fab5 says. ‘I’m gonna ask her out on a date.’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Fab5 scowls at me, then searches in his pocket for his phone. ‘Shit, dude. I need to meet up with the electrician in an hour. He’s helping us set up those new fancy lights we ordered.’
We walk out of the bar and go to his van.
‘Fab5. You don’t think I’ve got heart, do you?’
My friend opens the door to his van. ‘Hell no, dude. Your heart was cut out long ago.’
‘You don’t think I’m secretly Christlike, a man with a pure heart?’
‘No way, man. You’re an arsehole of the purest kind.’
He gets inside. I lean into the open window. ‘You don’t think I’m capable of growing a heart, right?’
‘Face it, dude. You’re fucking with a sweet, nice chick who has OCD. And let’s not forget the little detail of blackmail and pretending to be a doctor. You’re already shame spiralling big-time.’
‘Tell me again, Fab5.’
I’m not good and kind and caring or any of that happy horse-shit.
I’m nothing but a selfish prick. That I can live with. This is who I am. Just a fucking liarholic, and I can’t ever, ever let myself forget that.
Christ sakes, Amy still thinks I’m a bona-fide psychologist. It’s a lie that’s cutting me to the bone. Which is new to me. I’ve never given a damn until now.
Love her. Hate her. Can't stand to be away from her. Shit like that makes my eyes all stupid hot and wet like when I was a kid. Thought the lies and fighting fixed that, but I guess not.
I say to Fab5, ‘Tell me again, I’m a heartless piece of shit.’
40
YOU
Everything feels completely and utterly rotten.
I catch sight of myself in the bedroom mirror. My eyes water and I blink back the tears. When did all my wires fray and fizzle out? There was a time when I was just away with the twisted fairies, and I couldn’t get out of the room or the estate without checking everything. I’m not just a mad girl, anymore. I’m a hopeless mad
