The Girl Who Lied(34)

A gentle tap at the door brings me from my thoughts.

‘Erin? You okay?’ It’s Kerry.

‘I won’t be a moment,’ I call, attempting to sound cheery. I check myself in the mirror, flush the toilet for good measure and wait a minute before letting myself out of the bathroom. I smile at Kerry, who is standing across the landing, leaning against the slope of the dormer window, his hands in his pockets.

‘I didn’t ask you to hurry up,’ he says gently. ‘I asked if you were okay.’

The concern in his voice is apparent and for a second I’m uncertain if I can answer. I broaden my smile. ‘Me? I’m fine. Whatever made you think I wasn’t?’

‘Roisin and Ed.’ Kerry fixes me with his grey eyes, his voice is soft.

It’s almost too much for me. A thread of sympathy and I can feel my composure unravelling. It only takes one stride and he is in front of me, his strong arms around me as he pulls me into him. I take in the smell of his aftershave, a spicy mixture, tinged slightly with cigarette smoke, which oddly enough I don’t find offensive. He drops a kiss on the top of my head and I can feel his fingers entwining with my hair.

I pull away. ‘We’d better get back to the party. People will wonder where we are.’

*

‘That was interesting,’ says Ed, exhaling loudly, as he slowly steers the hire car along Corkscrew Lane, avoiding the potholes where possible.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I didn’t expect to be hanging out with a load of hippy bikers this afternoon.’

‘They’re not hippy bikers. Well, maybe a bit, but it doesn’t matter, they’re all very nice.’ Even Joe had been quite pleasant, I reflect, if you didn’t count the Curly Hurley jibe. After that, much as it pains me to admit, I couldn’t really fault him.

‘Yeah, nice but a bit, well, you know …’ says Ed.

I feel myself bristle. ‘Actually, I don’t know.’

‘You know…not very sophisticated. Country bumpkins. Bex with her mad hair and nose piercing, I half expected her to get out a guitar and start singing ‘Kumbaya’. Then Joe and Kerry with their scruffy hair, frayed and faded jeans, t-shirts and tattoos. Can’t quite see them at Jones’ Wine Bar. Can you?’

I have to admit, I can’t see any of the Wrights in the wine bar that Ed and I frequent but, then again, I can’t actually imagine they would want to. ‘They’re just different,’ I say. ‘Anyway, you’ll have to get used to them, Bex has invited us to the naming ceremony in a few weeks.’

‘What? A naming ceremony? What’s wrong with a traditional Christening?’ Ed shakes his head as he steers the car out of the lane and onto the High Street. ‘Please don’t say you’ve accepted.’

I haven’t actually said yes for definite, but Ed is annoying me now. He’s been nothing short of pompous this afternoon. Showing off at every opportunity and being patronising towards me. He gets like that when we’re in a crowd. It will serve him right if I make him go to the naming ceremony. You never know, he might stop being so dismissive of my friends if he got to know them properly. My friends, I note the reference and acknowledge subconsciously I am already thinking of them in this way. Ed is waiting for me to reply. ‘Unlucky,’ I say. ‘I’ve accepted on behalf of us both.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Erin.’ His eyebrows dart together in irritation. ‘Why did you go and do that?’

‘Because I would like to go. It will be nice.’

‘The sooner you come back to London and civilisation, the better. Next they’ll be brainwashing you, and before you know it, you’ll be dressing in a floral smock, running around bare-foot with daisies in your hair. Speaking of which…,’ he flicks at my curls, ‘you really need to get the straighteners out.’





Chapter 11


Teenage Kicks

Two months before leaving

I don’t go to school the next day. I wake up feeling very sick. I clearly drank too much last night. Niall got some cider from the locally offy and we went and sat down on the beach. We went to the far end, where there are sand dunes and made ourselves a small fire to keep warm. We huddled under the blanket, drank the cider and ate leftover sandwiches from the café Dad let me take. We made love on the sand under the stars. It was very romantic. We stayed until the fire burnt out and we had no more driftwood to put on. It was very late. but I didn’t care. I was with Niall and that was all that mattered.

Now, the morning after, I’m beginning to think it wasn’t quite so romantic after all. The nausea notches up a gear and I rush to the bathroom. I retch but only some sickly sort of bile comes up. It tastes disgusting. All metallic. Yuk.