PS I LOVE YOU 11-20

Eleven
“OH SHARON, I JUST HATE him,” Holly moaned to her friend on the phone later that night.
“Just ignore him, Holly, he can't help himself, he's an idiot,” she replied angrily.
“But that's what annoys me even more. Everyone says he can't help himself or it's not his fault.
He's a grown man, Sharon. He's thirty-six years old. He should bloody well know when to keep
his mouth shut. He says those things deliberately,” she fumed.
“I really don't think he does it deliberately, Holly,” she said soothingly. “I genuinely think he
called around to wish you a happy birthday . . .”
“Yeah! And what's that about?” Holly ranted. “Since when has he ever called around to my
house to give me a birthday present? Never! That's when!”
“Well, thirty is more of a big deal than any other . . .”
“Not in his eyes it's not! He even said so at dinner a few weeks ago. If I recall, his exact words
were,” she mimicked his voice, “I don't agree with silly celebrations blah-blah-blah, I'm a sap
blah-blah-blah. He really is a Dick.”
Sharon laughed at her friend sounding like a ten-year-old. “OK, so he's an evil monster of a
being who deserves to burn in hell!”
Holly paused. “Well, I wouldn't go that far, Sharon . . .”
Sharon laughed. “Oh, I just can't please you at all, can I?”
Holly smiled weakly. Gerry would know exactly how she was feeling, he would know exactly
what to say and he would know exactly what to do. He would give her one of his famous hugs
and all her problems would melt away. She grabbed a pillow from her bed and hugged it tight.
She couldn't remember the last time she hugged someone, really hugged someone. And the
depressing thing was that she couldn't imagine ever embracing anyone the same way again.
“Helloooo? Earth to Holly? You still there or am I talking to myself again?”
“Oh sorry, Sharon, what did you say?”
“I said, have you given any more thought to this karaoke business?”
“Sharon!” Holly yelped. “No more thought is required on that subject!”
“OK, calm down, woman! I was just thinking that we could hire out a karaoke machine and we
could set it up in your living room. That way, you'll be doing what he wants minus the
embarrassment! What do you think?”
“No, Sharon, it's a great idea but it won't work; he wants me to do it in Club Diva, wherever
that is.”
“Ah! So sweet! Because you're his Disco Diva?”
“I think that was the general idea,” Holly said miserably.
“Ah! That's a lovely idea, although Club Diva? Never heard of it.”
“Well, that's that settled then, if no one knows where it is, then I just can't do it, can I?” Holly
said, satisfied she had found a way out.
They both said their good-byes and as soon as Holly had hung up, the phone rang again.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Mum!” Holly said accusingly.
“Oh God, what have I done now?”
“I received a little visit from your evil son today and I'm not very happy.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I tried to call you earlier to tell you he was on his way over but I kept
getting that bloody answering machine, do you ever turn your phone on?”
“That is not the point, Mum.”
“I know, I'm sorry. Why, what did he do?”
“He opened his mouth. There lies the problem in itself.”
“Oh no, and he was so excited about giving you that present.”
“Well, I'm not denying that the present was very nice and thoughtful and all of those wonderful
things, but he said some of the most insulting things without batting an eyelid!”
“Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
“No, it's OK; we're big boys and girls now. But thanks anyway. So what are you up to?” Holly
was anxious to change the subject.
“Ciara and I are watching a Denzel Washington film. Ciara thinks she's going to marry him
someday,” Elizabeth laughed.
“I am, too!” Ciara shouted in the background.
“Well, sorry to burst her little bubble, but he's already married.”
“He's married, honey.” Elizabeth passed on the message.
“Hollywood marriages. . . ,” Ciara mumbled in the background.
“Are the two of you on your own?” Holly asked.
“Frank is down the pub and Declan is in college.”
“College? But it's ten o'clock at night!” Holly laughed. Declan was probably out somewhere
doing something illegal and using college as an excuse. She didn't think her mum would be so
gullible to believe that, especially after having four other children.
“Oh, he's a very hard worker when he puts his mind to it, Holly, he's working on some project. I
don't know what it is; I don't listen half the time.”
“Mmm,” Holly replied, not believing a word of it.
“Anyway, my future son-in-law is back on television so I must be off,” Elizabeth laughed.
“Would you like to come around and join us?”
“Thanks but no, I'm OK here.”
“All right, love, but if you change your mind you know where we are. Bye, dear.”
Back to her empty, silent house.
Holly woke up the next morning still fully dressed and lying on her bed. She could feel herself
slipping into her old habits again. All her positive thoughts of the past few weeks were melting
away bit by bit every day. It was so bloody tiring trying to be happy all the time and she just
didn't have the energy anymore. Who cared if the house was a mess? Nobody but her was going
to see it, and she certainly didn't care one way or the other. Who cared if she didn't wear
makeup or wash for a week? She certainly had no intention of impressing anyone. The only guy
she was seeing regularly was the pizza delivery boy, and she had to tip him to make him smile.
Who bloody cared? Her phone vibrated beside her, signaling a message. It was from Sharon.
CLUB DIVA NO 36700700
THINK BOUT IT. WUD B FUN.
DO IT 4 GERRY?
Gerry's bloody dead, she felt like texting back. But ever since she had begun opening the
envelopes he didn't feel dead to her. It was as though he were just away on holiday and writing
her letters, so he wasn't really gone. Well, the very least she could do was ring the club and suss
out the situation. That didn't mean she had to go through with it.
She dialed the number and a man answered. She couldn't think of anything to say so she quickly
hung up again. Oh, come on, Holly, she told herself, it's really not that difficult, just say a friend
is interested in singing.
Holly braced herself and pressed REDIAL.
The same voice answered, “Club Diva.”
“Hi, I was wondering if you do karaoke nights there?”
“Yes we do, they are on a. . . ,” she heard him leafing through some pages, “yeah sorry, they're
on a Thursday.”
“Thursday?”
“No sorry, sorry, hold on . . .” He leafed through some pages again. “No, they're on a Tuesday
night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, they are definitely on a Tuesday.”
“OK, em, well, I was wondering if, em . . .” Holly took a deep breath and began the sentence
again. “My friend might be interested in singing and she was wondering what she would have to
do?”
There was a long pause on the other end.
“Hello?” Was this person stupid?
“Yeah sorry, I don't actually organize the karaoke nights, so . . .”
“OK.” Holly was losing her temper. It had taken a lot to summon up the courage to actually
make the call and some underqualified unhelpful little twit wasn't going to ruin it for her. “Well,
is there anyone there who might have a clue?”
“Eh, no, there isn't, the club isn't actually open yet, it's very early in the morning still,” came the
sarcastic response.
“Well, thank you very much, you've been a terrific help,” she said, matching his sarcasm.
“Excuse me, if you can just bear with me for a moment, I'll try and find out for you.” Holly was
put on hold and was forced to listen to “Greensleeves” for the next five minutes.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“Barely,” she said angrily.
“OK, I'm very sorry about the delay but I just made a phone call there. What's your friend's
name?”
Holly froze, she hadn't planned on this. Well, maybe she could just give her name and then get
“her friend” to call back and cancel if she changed her mind.
“Em, her name is Holly Kennedy.”
“OK, well, it's actually a karaoke competition on Tuesday nights. It goes on for a month and
every week two people out of ten are chosen till the last week of the month, where the six
people sing again in the final.”
Holly gulped. She didn't want to do this.
“But unfortunately,” he continued, “the names have all been entered a few months in advance,
so you can tell your friend Holly that maybe she could try again at Christmas. That's when the
next competition is on.”
“Oh, OK.”
“By the way, the name Holly Kennedy rings a bell. Would that be Declan Kennedy's sister?”
“Eh, yeah, why, do you know her?” said a shocked Holly.
“I wouldn't say I know her, I just met her briefly here the other night with her brother.”
Was Declan going around and introducing girls as his sister? The sick and twisted little . . . No,
that couldn't be right, what on earth?
“Declan played a gig in Club Diva?”
“No no,” he laughed, “he played with his band downstairs in the basement.”
Holly quickly tried to digest the information until finally it clicked.
“Is Club Diva in Hogan's?”
He laughed again, “Yeah, it's on the top floor. Maybe I should advertise a bit more!”
“Is that Daniel?” Holly blurted out and then kicked herself for being so stupid.
“Eh, yeah, do I know you?”
“Em, no! No you don't! Holly just mentioned you in conversation, that's all.” Then she realized
how that sounded. “Very briefly in conversation,” she added. “She said you gave her a stool.”
Holly began hitting her head softly on the wall.
Daniel laughed again. “Oh, OK, well, tell her if she wants to sing in the karaoke at Christmas I
can put her name down now for her. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that want to
sign up.”
“Really,” Holly said weakly. She felt like a fool.
“Oh, by the way, who am I speaking to?”
Holly paced her bedroom floor. “Em, Sharon, you're speaking to Sharon.”
“OK, Sharon, well, I have your number on caller ID so I'll call you if anyone backs out.”
“OK, thanks a lot.”
And he hung up.
And Holly leapt into bed, throwing the duvet over her head as she felt her face going purple
with embarrassment. She hid under the covers, cursing herself for being such a bimbo. Ignoring
the phone ringing, she tried to convince herself she hadn't been a complete idiot. Eventually,
after she had persuaded herself she could show her face in public again (it took a long time), she
crawled out of bed and hit the button on her answering machine.
“Hi Sharon, I must have just missed you. It's Daniel here from Club Diva.” He paused and then,
laughing, added, “In Hogan's. Em, I was just looking through the list of names in the book and
it seems somebody already entered Holly's name a few months back, in fact it's one of the first
entries. Unless it's another Holly Kennedy . . .” He trailed off. “Anyway, call me back when you
get a chance so we can sort it out. Thanks.”
Holly sat shocked on the edge of her bed, unable to move for the next few hours.
Twelve
SHARON, DENISE AND HOLLY SAT by the window in Bewley's Café overlooking Grafton
Street. They often met up there to watch the world go by; Sharon always said it was the best
window-shopping she could ever do as she had a bird's-eye view of all her favorite stores.
“I can't believe Gerry organized all this!” gasped Denise when she heard the news. She flicked
her long brown hair behind her shoulders and her bright blue eyes sparkled back at Holly
enthusiastically.
“It'll be a bit of fun, won't it?” Sharon said excitedly.
“Oh God.” Holly had butterflies in her stomach just over the thought of it. “I still really, really,
really don't want to do it, but I feel I have to finish off what Gerry started.”
“That's the spirit Hol!” said Denise, “and we'll all be there to cheer you on!”
“Now hold on a minute, Denise,” Holly said, changing the celebratory tone. “I just want you
and Sharon there, no one else. I don't want to make a big deal out of this at all. Let's keep it
between us.”
“But Holly!” Sharon protested. “It is a big deal! No one ever thought you'd do karaoke again
after last time . . .”
“Sharon!” warned Holly. “One must not speak of such things. One is still scarred from that
experience.”
“Well, I think one is a daft cow for not getting over it,” mumbled Sharon.
“So when's the big night?” Denise changed the subject, sensing bad vibes.
“Next Tuesday,” Holly groaned, bending forward and banging her head playfully on the table.
The surrounding customers stared at her curiously.
“She's just out for the day,” Sharon announced to the room, pointing at Holly.
“Don't worry, Holly; that gives you seven days exactly to transform yourself into Mariah Carey.
No problem at all,” Denise said, smiling at Sharon.
“Oh please, we would have a better chance teaching Lennox Lewis how to do ballet,” said
Sharon.
Holly looked up from banging her head. “Well, thanks for the encouragement, Sharon.”
“Ooh, but imagine Lennox Lewis in a pair of tights, that tight little arse dancing around . . . ,”
Denise said dreamily.
Holly and Sharon stopped growling at each other to stare at their friend.
“You've lost the plot, Denise.”
“What?” Denise said, defensively snapping out of her fantasy. “Just imagine those big muscular
thighs . . .”
“That would snap your neck in two if you went near him,” Sharon finished for her.
“Now there's a thought,” Denise said, widening her eyes.
“I can see it all now,” Holly joined in, staring off into space. “The death pages would read:
'Denise Hennessey has tragically died, crushed to death by the most tremendous thunder thighs
after briefly catching a glimpse of heaven . . . ' ”
“I like that,” Denise agreed. “Ooh, and what a way to die! Give me a slice of that heaven!”
“OK, you,” Sharon interrupted, pointing her finger at Denise, “keep your sordid little fantasies
to yourself, please. And you,” she pointed at Holly, “stop trying to change the subject.”
“Oh, you're just jealous, Sharon, because your husband couldn't snap a matchstick between his
skinny little thighs,” teased Denise.
“Excuse me, but John's thighs are perfectly fine, I just wish mine could be more like his,”
Sharon finished.
“Now you!” Denise pointed at Sharon. “Keep your sordid little fantasies to yourself.”
“Girls, girls!” Holly snapped her fingers in the air. “Let's focus on me now, focus on me.” She
gracefully motioned with her hands, bringing them toward her chest.
“OK, Ms. Selfish, what are you planning on singing?”
“I have no idea, that's why I called this emergency meeting.”
“No it's not, you told me you wanted to go shopping,” Sharon said.
“Oh really?” Denise said, looking at Sharon and raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were both
coming to visit me on my lunch break.”
“You are both correct,” Holly asserted. “I am shopping for ideas and I need you both.”
“Ha-ha! Good answer,” they both agreed for once.
“OK, OK!” Sharon exclaimed excitedly. “I think I've got an idea. What was that song we sang
for the whole two weeks in Spain and we couldn't get it out of our heads and it used to bug the
hell out of us?”
Holly shrugged her shoulders. If it bugged the hell out of them it was hardly a very good choice.
“I don't know, I wasn't invited on that holiday,” muttered Denise.
“Oh, you know the one, Holly!”
“I can't remember.”
“Oh, you have to!”
“Sharon, I don't think she can remember,” Denise frustratedly said to Sharon.
“Oh, what is it?” Sharon put her face in her hands, irritated. Holly shrugged her shoulders at
Denise again. “OK, I've got it!!” she announced happily, and began to sing loudly in the café. “
'Sun, sea, sex, sand, come on boy give me your hand!' ”
Holly's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as people at the surrounding
tables turned to stare. She turned to Denise for support in silencing Sharon.
“ 'Ooh ooh ooh so sexy, so sexy!' ” Denise joined in with Sharon. Some people stared in
amusement but most in loathing while Denise and Sharon warbled their way through the tacky
European dance song that had been a hit a few summers previously. Just as they were about to
sing the chorus for the fourth time (neither of them could remember the verses), Holly silenced
them.
“Girls, I can't sing that song! Besides, the verses are rapped by a guy!”
“Well, at least you wouldn't have to sing too much,” chuckled Denise.
“No way! I am not rapping at a karaoke competition!”
“Fair enough,” nodded Sharon.
“OK, well, what CD are you listening to at the moment?” Denise got serious again.
“Westlife?” she looked at them hopefully.
“Then sing a Westlife song,” Sharon encouraged. “That way, at least you'll know all the words.”
Sharon and Denise began to laugh uncontrollably. “You might not get the tune right,” Sharon
forced out between hacking laughs.
“But at least you'll know the words!” Denise managed to finish for her before the two of them
doubled over at the table.
First Holly was angry, but looking at the both of them crouched over, holding their stomachs in
hysterics, she had to giggle. They were right, Holly was completely tone-deaf and hadn't a note
in her head. Finding a song she could actually sing was going to prove impossible. Finally after
the girls settled down again, Denise looked at her watch and moaned about having to get back
to work. They left Bewley's (much to the other customers' delight). “The miserable sods will
probably throw a party now,” Sharon had mumbled, passing their tables.
The three girls linked arms and walked down Grafton Street, heading toward the clothes store
where Denise was manager. The day was sunny with just a light chill in the air; Grafton Street
was busy as usual with people running around on their lunch breaks while shoppers slowly
meandered up the street, taking full advantage of the lack of rain. At every stretch of the road
there was a busker fighting for attention from the crowds, and Denise and Sharon
embarrassingly did a quick Irish dance as they passed a man playing the fiddle. He winked at
them and they threw some money into his tweed cap on the ground.
“Right, you ladies of leisure, I better head back to work,” Denise said, pushing the door to her
shop open. As soon as her staff saw her they scarpered from gossiping at the counter and
immediately began to fix the clothes rails. Holly and Sharon tried not to laugh. They said their
good-byes and both headed up to Stephen's Green to collect their cars.
“ 'Sun, sea, sex, sand,' ” Holly quietly sang to herself. “Oh shit, Sharon! You've got that stupid
song in my head now,” she complained.
“You see, there you go with that 'shit Sharon' thing again. So negative, Holly.” Sharon began
humming the song.
“Oh, shut up!” Holly laughed, hitting her on the arm.
Thirteen
IT WAS FOUR O'CLOCK BY the time Holly eventually got out of town and started heading
home to Swords. Evil Sharon convinced Holly to go shopping after all, which resulted in her
splashing out on a ridiculous top she was far too old to wear. She really needed to watch her
spending from now on; her funds were running low, and without regular income she could sense
tense times ahead. She needed to start thinking about getting a job, but she was finding it hard
enough to get out of bed in the morning as it was, another depressing nine-to-five job wasn't
going to help matters. But it would help pay the bills. Holly sighed loudly, all these things she
had to handle all by herself. The thought of it was just depressing her, and her problem was that
she spent too much time on her own thinking about it. She needed people around her, like today
with Denise and Sharon, as they always succeeded in taking her mind off things. She phoned
her mum and checked if it was all right for her to call around.
“Of course you can, love, you're always welcome here.” Then she lowered her voice to a
whisper, “Just as long as you know that Richard is here.” Christ! What was with all the little
visits all of a sudden?
Holly had contemplated heading straight home when she heard that but convinced herself she
was being silly. He was her brother, and as annoying as he was, she couldn't go on avoiding him
forever.
She arrived to an extremely loud and crowded house and it felt like old times again, hearing
screams and shouts in every room. Her mum was setting an extra place at the table just as she
walked in. “Oh, Mum, you should have told me you were having dinner,” Holly said, giving her
a hug and a kiss.
“Why, have you eaten already?”
“No, actually I'm starving, but I hope you didn't go to too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all, dear, it just means that poor Declan will have to go without food for the day,
that's all,” she said, teasing her son who was taking his seat. He made a face at her.
The atmosphere was so much more relaxed this time around, or maybe it had just been Holly
who was uptight during the last family dinner.
“So, Mr. Hard Worker, why aren't you in college today?” she said sarcastically.
“I've been in college all morning,” he replied, making a face, “and I'm going back in at eight
o'clock, actually.”
“That's very late,” said her father, pouring gravy all over his plate. He always ended up with
more gravy than food on his plate.
“Yeah, but it was the only time I could get to book the editing suite.”
“Is there only one editing suite, Declan?” piped up Richard.
“Yeah.” Ever the conversationalist.
“And how many students are there?”
“It's only a small class, there are just twelve of us.”
“Don't they have the funds for any more?”
“For what, students?” Declan teased.
“No, for another editing suite.”
“No, it's only a small college, Richard.”
“I suppose the bigger universities would be better equipped for things like that, they're better
all-round.”
And there was the dig they were all waiting for.
“No, I wouldn't say that, the facilities are top of the range, there's just fewer people so therefore
less equipment. And the lecturers aren't inferior to university lecturers, they're a bonus because
they work in the industry as well as lecturing. In other words, they practice what they preach.
It's not just textbook stuff.”
Good for you, Declan, Holly thought, and winked across the table at him.
“I wouldn't imagine they get paid well doing that, so they probably have no choice but to lecture
as well.”
“Richard, working in film is a very good job; you're talking about people who have spent years
in college studying for degrees and master's . . .”
“Oh, you get a degree for that, do you?” Richard was amazed. “I thought it was just a little
course you were doing.”
Declan stopped eating and looked at Holly in shock. Funny how Richard's ignorance still
amazed everyone.
“Who do you think makes all those gardening programs you watch, Richard?” Holly interjected.
“They're not just a crowd of people who are doing a little course.”
The thought had clearly never crossed his mind that there was a skill involved.
“Great little programs they are,” he agreed.
“What's your project on, Declan?” Frank asked.
Declan finished chewing his food before he spoke. “Oh, it's kind of too messy to go into, but
basically it's on club life in Dublin.”
“Ooh, will we be in it?” Ciara broke her unusual silence and asked excitedly.
“Yeah, I might just show the back of your head or something,” he joked.
“Well, I can't wait to see it,” Holly said encouragingly.
“Thanks.” Declan put his knife and fork down and started laughing. “Hey, what's this I hear
about you singing in a karaoke competition next week?”
“What?” Ciara yelled, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.
Holly pretended not to know what he was talking about.
“Ah come on, Holly!” he persisted. “Danny told me!” He turned to the rest of the table and
explained, “Danny is the owner of the place where I did the gig the other night and he told me
Holly has entered a karaoke competition in the club upstairs.”
Everyone oohed and aahed and talked about how great it was. Holly refused to give in. “Declan,
Daniel's just playing games with you. Sure everyone knows I can't sing! Now come on,” she
addressed the rest of the table. “Honestly, if I was singing in a karaoke competition I think I
would tell you all.” She laughed as if the thought were so ridiculous. In fact, the thought was so
ridiculous.
“Holly!” he laughed. “I saw your name on the list! Don't lie!”
Holly put her knife and fork down, she suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.
“Holly, why didn't you tell us you're going to sing in a competition?” her mother asked.
“Because I can't sing!”
“Then why are you doing it?” Ciara burst out laughing.
She might as well tell them, she figured; otherwise Declan would beat it out of her and she
didn't like lying to her parents. It's just a shame Richard would have to hear it too.
“OK, it's a really complicated story, but basically Gerry entered my name in months ago because
he really wanted me to do it, and as much as I don't want to do it, I feel I have to go through
with it. It's stupid, I know.”
Ciara stopped laughing abruptly.
Holly felt paranoid with her family staring at her, and she nervously tucked her hair behind her
ears.
“Well, I think that's a wonderful idea,” her dad suddenly announced.
“Yes,” added her mum, “and we'll all be there to support you.”
“No, Mum, you really don't have to, it's no big deal.”
“There's no way my sister is singing in a competition without me being there,” declared Ciara.
“Here, here,” said Richard. “We'll all go so. I've never been to a karaoke before, it should be . . .
,” he searched his brain for the right word, “. . . fun.”
Holly groaned and closed her eyes, wishing she had gone straight home from town. Declan was
laughing hysterically. “Yes, Holly, it'll be . . . hmmm . . . ,” he said, scratching his chin, “. . .
fun!”
“When is it on?” Richard said, taking out his diary.
“Eh . . . Saturday,” Holly lied, and Richard began writing it down.
“It is not!” Declan burst out. “It's next Tuesday, you liar!”
“Shit!” cursed Richard, much to everyone's surprise. “Has anyone got any Tipp-Ex?”
Holly could not stop going to the toilet. She was nervous and had gotten practically no sleep the
night before. And she looked just the way she felt. There were huge bags under her bloodshot
eyes, and her lips were bitten.
The big day had arrived, her worst nightmare, singing in public.
Holly wasn't the kind of person who even sang in the shower, for fear of cracking all the
mirrors. But man, was she spending time in the toilet today. There was no better laxative than
fear, and Holly felt like she had lost a stone in just one day. Her friends and family had been as
supportive as ever, sending her good luck cards. Sharon and John had even sent her a bouquet
of flowers, which she placed on the draft-free, heat-vent-free coffee table beside her half-dead
orchid. Denise had “hilariously” sent her a sympathy card.
Holly dressed in the outfit Gerry had told her to buy in April and cursed him all throughout.
There were far more important things to worry about right now than irrelevant little details like
how she looked. She left her hair down so it could cover her face as much as possible and piled
on the waterproof mascara as though it could prevent her from crying. She could foresee the
night ending in tears. She tended to have psychic powers when it came to facing the shittiest
days of her life.
John and Sharon collected Holly in the taxi and she refused to talk to them, cursing everyone for
forcing her to do this. She felt physically sick and couldn't sit still. Every time the taxi stopped at
a red light she contemplated jumping out and running for dear life, but by the time she built up
the courage the lights would go green again. Her hands fidgeted nervously and she kept opening
and closing her bag, pretending to Sharon she was searching for something just to keep herself
occupied.
“Relax, Holly,” Sharon said soothingly, “everything will be fine.”
“Fuck off,” she snapped.
They continued on in silence for the rest of the journey, even the taxi driver didn't speak. They
finally reached Hogan's, and John and Sharon had a hell of a time trying to stop her ranting
(something about preferring to jump in the River Liffey) and persuading her to go inside. Much
to Holly's horror, the club was absolutely jammed, and she had to squeeze by everyone to make
her way to her family, who had saved a table (right beside the toilet as requested).
Richard was sitting awkwardly on a stool looking out of place in a suit. “So tell me about these
rules, Father, what will Holly have to do?” Holly's dad explained the “rules” of karaoke to
Richard and her nerves began to build even more.
“Gosh, that's terrific, isn't it?” Richard said, staring around the club in awe. Holly didn't think he
had ever been in a nightclub before.
The sight of the stage terrified Holly; it was much bigger than she had expected and there was a
huge screen on the wall for the crowd to see the words of the songs. Jack was sitting with his
arm draped around Abbey's shoulders; they both gave her a supportive smile. Holly scowled at
them and looked away.
“Holly, the funniest thing just happened earlier on,” Jack said, laughing. “Remember that guy
Daniel we met last week?”
Holly just stared at him, watching his lips moving but not giving a damn about what he said.
“Well, me and Abbey got here first to keep the table and we were having a kiss and your man
came over and whispered in my ear that you were gonna be here tonight. He thought we were
going out and that I was doing the dirt!” Jack and Abbey laughed hysterically.
“Well, I think that's disgusting,” Holly said and turned away.
“No,” Jack tried to explain, “he didn't know that we were brother and sister. I had to explain . .
.” Jack trailed off as Sharon shot him a warning look and silenced him.
“Hi, Holly,” Daniel said, approaching her with a clipboard in his hand, “OK, the order of tonight
is the following: First up is a girl called Margaret, then a guy called Keith and then you're up
after him. Is that OK?”
“So I'm third.”
“Yeah, after . . .”
“That's all I need to know,” Holly snapped rudely. She just wanted to get out of this stupid club
and wished that everyone would just stop annoying her and leave her alone to wish evil
thoughts on them all. She wished the ground would open and swallow her up, that a natural
disaster would occur and everyone would have to evacuate the building. In fact, that was a good
idea; she searched around frantically for a button to raise the fire alarm, but Daniel was still
talking away to her.
“Look, Holly, I'm really sorry to disturb you again, but could you tell me which of your friends is
Sharon?” He looked like he was afraid she was going to bite his head off. So he should be, she
thought, squinting her eyes.
“Her over there.” Holly pointed to Sharon. “Hold on, why?”
“Oh, I just wanted to apologize for the last time we spoke.” He started to walk toward Sharon.
“Why?” Holly said with panic in her voice, making him turn around again.
“Oh, we just had a minor disagreement on the phone last week.” He looked at her confused as
to why he had to explain himself to her.
“You know, you really don't need to do that, she's probably forgotten about it completely by
now,” she stammered. This was the last thing she needed.
“Yeah, but I would still like to apologize,” and he headed over to her. Holly leapt from her
stool.
“Sharon, hi, I'm Daniel, I just wanted to apologize about the confusion on the phone last week.”
Sharon looked at him as though he had ten heads. “Confusion?”
“You know, on the phone?”
John placed his arm protectively around her waist.
“On the phone?”
“Eh . . . yes, on the phone.” He nodded.
“What's your name again?”
“Em, it's Daniel.”
“And we spoke on the phone?” Sharon said with a smile appearing on her face.
Holly gestured wildly to her behind Daniel's back. Daniel cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, you
called the club last week and I answered, does that ring a bell?”
“No, sweetie, you've got the wrong girl,” Sharon said politely.
John threw Sharon a dirty look for calling him sweetie; if it had been up to him he would have
told Daniel where to go. Daniel brushed his hand through his hair and appeared to be more
confused than anyone else and began to turn around to face Holly.
Holly nodded her head frantically to Sharon.
“Oh . . . ,” Sharon said, looking like she finally remembered. “Oh Daniel!” she yelled, a bit
overenthusiastically. “God, I am so sorry, my brain cells seem to be going a bit dead.” She
laughed like a madwoman. “Must be too much of this,” she laughed, picking up her drink.
Relief washed over Daniel's face. “Good, I thought it was me going mad there for a minute!
OK, so you remember us having that conversation on the phone?”
“Oh, that conversation we had on the phone. Listen, don't worry about it,” she said, waving her
hand dismissively.
“It's just that I only took over the place a few weeks ago and I wasn't too sure of the exact
arrangements for tonight.”
“Oh, don't worry . . . we all need our time . . . to adjust . . . to things . . . you know?” Sharon
looked at Holly to see if she had said the right thing or not.
“OK then, well, it's nice to finally meet you in person,” Daniel laughed. “Can I get you a stool or
anything?” he said, trying to be funny.
Sharon and John sat on their stools and stared back at him in silence, not knowing what to say
to this strange man.
John watched with suspicion as Daniel walked away.
“What was that all about?” Sharon asked Holly as soon as he was out of earshot.
“Oh, I'll explain it to you later,” said Holly as she turned to face the stage. Their karaoke host
for the evening was just stepping up onstage.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” he announced.
“Good evening!” shouted Richard, looking excited. Holly rolled her eyes up to heaven.
“We have an exciting night ahead of us . . .” He went on and on and on in his DJ voice while
Holly danced nervously from foot to foot. She desperately needed the toilet again.
“So first up tonight we have Margaret from Tallaght, who is going to sing the theme to Titanic,
'My Heart Will Go On,' by Celine Dion. Please put your hands together for the wonderful
Margaret!” The crowd went wild. Holly's heart raced. The hardest song in the world to sing,
typical.
When Margaret began to sing, the room became so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop.
Holly looked around the room and watched everyone's faces. They were all staring at Margaret
in amazement, including Holly's family, the traitors. Margaret's eyes were closed and she sang
with such passion it seemed she had lived every line of the song. Holly hated her and
contemplated tripping her up on her way back to her seat.
“Wasn't that incredible?” the DJ announced. The crowd cheered again, and Holly prepared
herself not to hear that sound after her own song. “Next up we have Keith, you may remember
him as last year's winner, and he's singing 'America,' by Neil Diamond. Give it up for Keith!”
Holly didn't need to hear any more and rushed into the toilet.
She paced up and down the toilet and tried to calm herself, her knees were knocking, her
stomach was twisted in knots and she felt the beginnings of vomit rising to her mouth. She
looked at herself in the mirror and tried to take big deep breaths. It didn't work, as it only made
her feel dizzy. The crowd applauded outside and Holly froze. She was next.
“Wasn't Keith terrific, ladies and gentlemen?”
Lots of cheers again.
“Perhaps Keith is going for the record of winning two years in a row, well, it doesn't get any
better than that!”
It was about to get a lot worse.
“Next we have a newcomer to the competition. Her name is Holly and she's singing . . .”
Holly ran to the cubicle and locked herself in. There was no way in this world they were getting
her out of there.
“So ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Holly!”
There was a huge applause.
Fourteen
IT WAS THREE YEARS AGO when Holly had taken to the stage for her debut karaoke
performance. Coincidentally it had been three years since Holly had taken to the stage to do
karaoke.
A huge crowd of her friends had gone to their local pub in Swords to celebrate the thirtieth
birthday of one of the lads. Holly had been extremely tired, as she had been working overtime
for the previous two weeks. She really wasn't in the mood to go out partying. All she wanted
was to go home, have a nice long bath, put on the most unsexy pair of pajamas she owned, eats
lots of chocolate and snuggle up on the couch in front of the TV with Gerry.
After standing on an overcrowded DART all the way from Blackrock to Sutton Station, Holly
was definitely not in the mood to go through the whole ordeal again in an overcrowded, stuffy
pub. On the train, half her face had been squashed up against the window and the other half
lodged underneath the sweaty armpit of a very unhygienic man. Right behind her a man was
breathing alcoholic fumes rather loudly down her neck. It didn't help matters that every time the
train swayed he “accidentally” pressed his big beer belly up against her back. She had suffered
through this indignity every day going to work and coming home for two weeks and she could
take it no longer. She wanted her pajamas.
Finally she arrived at Sutton Station and the very clever people there thought it was a great idea
to all get on the train while people tried to get off. It took her so long to fight her way through
the crowd to get off the train that by the time she reached the platform she saw her feeder bus
drive off, packed with happy little people smiling out the window at her. And because it was
after six o'clock, the coffee shop had closed and she was left standing in the freezing cold
waiting for another half an hour till the next bus arrived. This experience only strengthened her
desire to cuddle up in front of the TV.
But a good evening at home was not to be. Her beloved husband had other plans. She arrived
home tired and extremely pissed off to a crowded house and thumping music. People she didn't
even know were wandering around her living room with cans of beer in their hands and
slumping themselves on the couch she had intended to live on for the next few hours. Gerry
stood at the CD player acting DJ and trying to look cool. At that moment in time she had never
seen him look so uncool in her life.
“What is wrong with you?” Gerry asked her after seeing her storming upstairs to the bedroom.
“Gerry, I am tired, I am pissed off, I am not in the mood to go out tonight, and you didn't even
ask me if it was all right to invite all these people over. And by the way, who are they?” she
yelled.
“They're friends of Conor's and by the way, this is my house too!” he yelled back.
Holly placed her fingers on her temples and began to gently massage her head; she had an
incredible headache and the music was driving her crazy.
“Gerry,” she said quietly, trying to stay calm, “I'm not saying that you can't invite people over. It
would be fine if you had planned it in advance and told me. Then I wouldn't care, but today of
all days when I am so so tired,” her voice became weaker and weaker with every word, “I just
wanted to relax in my own house.”
“Oh, every day's the same with you,” he snapped. “You never want to do anything anymore
anyway. Every night you're the same. You come home in your cranky moods and bitch at me
about everything!”
Holly's jaw dropped.
“Excuse me! I have been working hard!”
“And so have I, but you don't see me biting your head off every time I don't get my own way.”
“Gerry, this isn't about me getting my own way, this is about you inviting the whole street into
our h–”
“It's Friday,” he yelled, silencing her. “It's the weekend! When is the last time you went out?
Leave your work behind and let your hair down for a change. Stop acting like such a granny!”
And he stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door.
After spending a long time in the bedroom hating Gerry and dreaming of a divorce, she managed
to calm down and think rationally about what he had said. And he was right. OK, he wasn't
right in the way he had phrased it, but she had been cranky and bitchy all month and she knew
it.
Holly was the type of person who finished work at 5 P.M. and had her computer switched off,
lights off, desk tidied and was running for her train by 5:01 P.M. whether her employers liked it
or not. She never took her work home and never stressed about the future of the business
because, quite frankly, she didn't care, and she phoned in sick as many Monday mornings as
possible without running the risk of being fired. But due to a momentary lapse of concentration
when looking for new employment, she had found herself accepting an office job that forced her
to take paperwork home, to agree to work late and to worry about the business, which she was
not happy with at all. How she even managed to stay there for an entire month was anybody's
guess, but nevertheless, Gerry had been right. Ouch, it even hurt to think it. She hadn't gone out
with him or her friends for weeks and she fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow every
night. Come to think of it, that was probably Gerry's main problem, never mind the bitchiness.
But tonight would be different. She intended to show her neglected friends and husband that
she was still the irresponsible, fun and frivolous Holly who could drink them all under the table
and yet manage to walk the white line all the way home. This show of antics began by preparing
home cocktails, God only knows what was in them, but they worked their little magic and at
eleven o'clock they all danced down the road to the pub where a karaoke was taking place.
Holly demanded to be first up and heckled the karaoke host until she got her way. The pub was
jammed and that night there was a rowdy crowd who were out on a stag night. It was as though
a film crew had arrived in the pub hours earlier and worked away setting the scene for disaster.
They couldn't have done a better job.
The DJ gave Holly a huge buildup after believing her lies of being a professional singer. Gerry
lost all power of speech and sight from laughing so hard but she was determined to show him
that she could still let her hair down. He needn't plan that divorce yet. Holly decided to sing
“Like a Virgin” and dedicated it to the man who was getting married the next day. As soon as
she started singing, Holly had never heard so many boos in her whole life and at such a loud
volume. But she was so drunk she didn't care and continued on singing to her husband, who
seemed to be the only one without a moody face.
Eventually when people began to throw things at the stage and when the karaoke host himself
encouraged them to boo even louder, Holly felt that her work there had been done. When she
handed him back the microphone there was a cheer so loud that people from the pub next door
came running in. It was all the more people to see Holly trip down the steps in her stilettos and
fall flat on her face. They all watched as her skirt went flying over her head to reveal the old
underwear that had once been white was now gray, and that she hadn't bothered to change
when she got home from work.
Holly was taken to hospital to see to her broken nose.
Gerry lost his voice from laughing so loudly and Denise and Sharon helped matters by taking
photographs of the scene of the crime, which Denise then chose as the cover for the invitations
to her Christmas party, with the heading “Let's get pissed!”
Holly vowed never to do karaoke again.
Fifteen
“HOLLY KENNEDY? ARE YOU HERE?” the karaoke host's voice boomed. The crowd's
applause died down into a loud chatter as everyone looked around in search of Holly. Well, they
would be a long time looking, she thought as she lowered the toilet seat and sat down to wait
for the excitement to settle so they could move on to their next victim. She closed her eyes,
rested her head on her hands and prayed for this moment to pass. She wanted to open her eyes
and be safely at home a week from now. She counted to ten, praying for a miracle, and then
slowly opened her eyes again.
She was still in the toilet.
Why couldn't she, at least just this once, suddenly find magical powers? It always happened to
the American girls in the films and it just wasn't fair . . .
Holly had known this would happen; from the moment she opened that envelope and read
Gerry's third letter, she foresaw tears and humiliation. Her nightmare had come true.
Outside, the club sounded very quiet and a sense of calm engulfed her as she realized they were
moving on to the next singer. Her shoulders relaxed and she unclenched her fists, her jaw
relaxed and air flowed more easily into her lungs. The panic was over, but she decided to wait
until the next singer began his song before she made a run for it. She couldn't even climb out the
window because she wasn't on the ground floor, well, not unless she wanted to plummet to her
own death. Another thing her American friend would be able to do.
Outside the cubicle Holly heard the toilet door open and slam. Uh-oh, they were coming to get
her. Whoever they were.
“Holly?”
It was Sharon.
“Holly, I know you're in there, so just listen to me, OK?”
Holly sniffed back the tears that were beginning to well.
“OK, I know that this is an absolute nightmare for you and I know you have a major phobia
about this kind of thing, but you need to relax, OK?”
Sharon's voice was so soothing, Holly's shoulders once again relaxed.
“Holly, I hate mice, you know that.”
Holly frowned, wondering where this little pep talk was going.
“And my worst nightmare would be to walk out of here to a room full of mice. Now could you
imagine me?”
Holly smiled at the thought and remembered the time when Sharon moved in with Gerry and
Holly for two weeks after she had caught a mouse in her house. John, of course, was granted
conjugal visits.
“Yeah, well I would be right here where you are now and nothing in the whole world would
bring me out.”
She paused.
“What?” the DJ's voice said into the microphone and then started laughing, “Ladies and
gentlemen, it appears that our singer is currently in the toilets.” The entire room erupted in
laughter.
“Sharon!” Holly's voice trembled in fear. She felt as though the angry mob were about to break
down the door, strip her of her clothes and carry her over their heads to the stage for her
execution. Panic took over for the third time. Sharon rushed her next sentence. “Anyway, Holly,
all I'm saying is that you don't have to do this if you don't want to. Nobody here is forcing you . .
.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, let's let Holly know that she's up next!” yelled the DJ. “Come on!”
Everybody began to stamp their feet and chant her name.
“OK, well, at least nobody who cares about you is forcing you to do this,” stammered Sharon,
now under pressure from the approaching mob. “But if you don't do this, I know you will never
be able to forgive yourself. Gerry wanted you to do this for a reason.”
“HOLLY! HOLLY! HOLLY!”
“Oh Sharon!” Holly repeated again, panicking. Suddenly the walls of the cubicle felt like they
were closing in on her; beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She had to get out of there. She
burst through the door. Sharon's eyes widened at the sight of her distraught friend, who looked
like she had just seen a ghost. Her eyes were red and puffy with black lines of mascara streaming
down her face (that waterproof stuff never works) and her tears had washed all her makeup
away.
“Don't mind them, Holly,” Sharon said coolly, “they can't make you do anything you don't want
to do.”
Holly's lower lip began to tremble.
“Don't!” Sharon said, gripping her by the shoulders and looking her in the eye. “Don't even
think about it!”
Her lip stopped trembling but the rest of her didn't. Finally Holly broke her silence. “I can't sing,
Sharon,” she whispered, her eyes wide with terror.
“I know that!” Sharon said laughing. “And your family knows that! Screw the rest of them! You
are never gonna see any of their ugly mugs ever again! Who cares what they think? I don't, do
you?”
Holly thought about it for a minute. “No,” she whispered.
“I didn't hear you, what did you say? Do you care what they think?”
“No,” she said, a little stronger.
“Louder!” Sharon shook her by the shoulders.
“No!” she yelled.
“Louder!”
“NOOOOOOOOO! I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY THINK!” Holly screamed so loud the
crowd began to quiet down outside. Sharon looked a little shaken, was probably a little deaf,
and stood frozen in her place for a while. The two of them smiled at each other and then began
to giggle at their stupidity.
“Just let this be another silly Holly day so we can laugh about it a few months from now,”
Sharon pleaded with her.
Holly took one last look at her reflection in the mirror, washed away her smudged mascara lines,
took a deep breath and charged toward the door like a woman on a mission. She opened the
door to her adoring fans, who were all facing it and chanting her name. They all began to cheer
when they saw her, so she took an extremely theatrical bow and headed toward the stage to the
sound of claps and laughter and a yell from Sharon saying, “Screw them!”
Holly had everybody's attention now whether she liked it or not. If she hadn't run into the toilet,
the people who were chatting down the back of the club probably wouldn't have noticed her
singing, but now she had attracted even more attention.
She stood with her arms folded on the stage and stared at the audience in shock. The music
started without her even noticing and she missed the first few lines of the song. The DJ stopped
the track and put it back to the start.
There was complete silence. Holly cleared her throat and the sound echoed around the room.
Holly stared down at Denise and Sharon for help and her whole table held their thumbs up at
her. Ordinarily Holly would have laughed at how corny they all looked, but right then it was
strangely comforting. Finally the music began again and Holly held the microphone tightly in her
two hands and prepared to sing. With an extremely shaky and timid voice she sang: “What
would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me?”
Denise and Sharon howled with laughter at the wonderful choice of song and gave her a big
cheer. Holly struggled on, singing dreadfully and looking like she was about to burst into tears.
Just when she felt like she was about to hear boos again her family and friends joined in with the
chorus. “Ooh, I'll get by with a little help from my friends; yes, I'll get by with a little help from
my friends.”
The crowd turned to her table of family and friends and laughed and the atmosphere warmed a
little more. Holly prepared herself for the high note coming up and yelled at the top of her lungs,
“Do you neeeed anybody?” She even managed to give herself a fright with the volume and a
few people helped her out to sing, “I need somebody to love.”
“Do you neeeed anybody?” she repeated and held the microphone out to the crowd to
encourage them to sing, and they all sang, “I need somebody to love,” and gave themselves a
round of applause. Holly felt less nervous now and battled her way through the rest of the song.
The people down the back continued on chatting, the bar staff carried on serving drinks and
smashing glasses until Holly felt like she was the only one listening to herself.
When she had finally finished singing, a few polite tables up front and her own table to the right
were the only people to acknowledge her. The DJ took the microphone from her hand and
managed to say between laughs, “Please give it up for the incredibly brave Holly Kennedy!”
This time her family and friends were the only people to cheer. Denise and Sharon approached
her with cheeks wet from tears of laughter.
“I'm so proud of you!” Sharon said, throwing her arms around Holly's neck. “It was awful!”
“Thanks for helping me, Sharon,” she said as she hugged her friend.
Jack and Abbey cheered and Jack shouted, “Terrible! Absolutely terrible!”
Holly's mother smiled encouragingly at her, knowing she had passed her special singing talent
down to her daughter, and Holly's father could barely look her in the eye he was laughing so
much. All Ciara could manage was to repeat over and over again, “I never knew anyone could
be so bad.”
Declan waved at her from across the room with a camera in his hand and gave her the
thumbs-down. Holly hid in the corner at the table and sipped on her water while she listened to
everyone congratulating her on being so desperately bad. Holly couldn't remember the last time
she had felt so proud.
John shuffled over to Holly and leaned against the wall beside her, where he watched the next
act onstage in silence. Eventually he plucked up the courage to speak and said, “Gerry's
probably here, you know,” and looked at her with watery eyes.
Poor John, he missed his best friend too. She gave him an encouraging smile and looked around
the room. He was right. Holly could feel Gerry's presence. She could feel him wrapping his arms
around her and giving her one of the hugs she missed so much.
After an hour the singers had finally finished and Daniel and the DJ headed off to tot up the
votes. Everyone had been handed a voting slip as they paid at the door and Holly couldn't bring
it upon herself to write her own name down, so she gave her slip to Sharon. It was pretty
obvious that Holly wasn't going to win, but that had never been her intention. And on the off
chance that she did win, she shuddered at the thought of having to return in two weeks' time to
repeat the whole experience. She hadn't learned a thing from it, only that she hated karaoke
even more. Last year's winner, Keith, had brought along at least thirty of his friends, which
meant that he was a sure winner, and Holly doubted very much that her “adoring fans” in the
crowd would vote for her.
The DJ played a pathetic CD of a drumroll as the winners were about to be announced. Daniel
took to the stage once again in his black leather jacket and black slacks uniform and was greeted
by wolf whistles and screams from the girls. Worryingly, the loudest of these girls was Ciara.
Richard looked excited and crossed his fingers at Holly. A very sweet but incredibly naïve
gesture, she thought; he obviously didn't understand the “rules” properly.
There was a bit of embarrassment as the drumroll began to skip and the DJ rushed over to his
equipment to shut it down. The winners were announced undramatically, in dead silence. “OK,
I'd like to thank everyone for taking part in tonight's competition, you provided us all with some
terrific entertainment.” That last part was directed at Holly and she slithered down her seat with
embarrassment. “OK, so the two people that will be going through to the final are,” Daniel
paused for dramatic effect, “Keith and Samantha!”
Holly jumped up with excitement and danced around in a huddle with Denise and Sharon. She
had never felt such relief in her life. Richard looked on very confused, and the rest of Holly's
family congratulated her on her victorious loss.
“I voted for the blond one,” Declan announced with disappointment.
“That's just because she had big tits,” Holly laughed.
“Well, we all have our own individual talents,” Declan agreed.
Holly wondered what hers were as she sat back down. It must be a wonderful feeling to win
something, to know that you have a talent. Holly had never won anything in her life; she didn't
play any sports, couldn't play an instrument, now that she thought about it, she didn't have any
hobbies or special interests. What would she put down on her CV when she eventually got
around to applying for a job? “I like to drink and shop” wouldn't go down very well. She sipped
her drink thoughtfully. Holly had lived her life being interested only in Gerry; in fact, everything
she did revolved around him. In a way, being his wife was all she was good at; being his partner
was all she knew. Now what did she have? No job, no husband and she couldn't even sing in a
karaoke competition properly, never mind win it.
Sharon and John seemed engrossed in a heated discussion, Abbey and Jack were gazing into
each other's eyes like love-struck teenagers as usual, Ciara was snuggling up to Daniel, and
Denise was . . . Actually, where was Denise?
Holly looked around the club and spotted her sitting on the stage swinging her legs and striking
a very provocative pose for the karaoke host. Holly's parents had left hand in hand just after her
name wasn't announced as a winner, which left . . . Richard. Richard sat squashed beside Ciara
and Daniel, looking around the room like a lost puppy and taking a sip from his drink every few
seconds out of paranoia. Holly realized she must have looked like him . . . a complete loser. But
at least this loser had a wife and two children to go home to, unlike Holly, who had a date with
a microwave dinner.
Holly moved over and sat on the high stool opposite Richard and struck up a conversation.
“You enjoying yourself?”
He looked up from his drink, startled that someone had spoken to him. “Yes, thank you, I'm
having fun, Holly.”
If that was him having fun Holly dreaded to think what he looked like when he wasn't.
“I'm surprised you came, actually, I didn't think this would be your scene.”
“Oh, you know . . . you have to support the family.” He stirred his drink.
“So where's Meredith tonight?”
“Emily and Timothy,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“You working tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he said suddenly, knocking back his drink, “so I best be off. You were a great sport
tonight, Holly.” He looked around awkwardly at his family, debating whether to interrupt them
and say good-bye but eventually deciding against it. He nodded to Holly and off he went,
maneuvering his way through the thick crowd.
Holly was once again alone. As much as she wanted to grab her bag and run home, she knew
she should sit this one out. There would be plenty of times in the future when she would be
alone like this, the only singleton in the company of couples, and she needed to adapt. She felt
awful, though, and she also felt angry with the others who didn't even notice her. Then she
cursed herself for being so childish, she couldn't have asked for more supportive friends and
family. Holly wondered whether this had been Gerry's intention. Did he think that this situation
was what she needed? Did he think that this would help her? Perhaps he was right, because she
was certainly being tested. It was forcing her to become braver in more ways than one. She had
stood on a stage and sung to hundreds of people, and now she was stuck in a situation where
she was surrounded by couples. They were all around her. Whatever his plan was, she was being
forced to become braver without him. Just sit it out, she told herself.
Holly smiled as she watched her sister nattering away to Daniel. Ciara was nothing like her at
all, she was so carefree and confident and never seemed to worry about anything. For as long as
Holly could remember, Ciara had never managed to hold down a job or a boyfriend, her brain
was always somewhere else, lost in the dream of visiting another far-off country. Holly wished
she could be more like her, but she was such a home-bird and could never imagine herself
moving away from her family and friends and leaving the life she had made for herself here. At
least she could never leave the life she once had.
She turned her attention to Jack, who was still lost in a world with Abbey. She even wished she
could be more like him; he absolutely loved his job as a secondary school teacher. He was the
cool English teacher that all the teenagers respected, and whenever Holly and Jack passed one
of his students on the street they always greeted him with a big smile and a “Hiya, sir!” All the
girls fancied him and all the boys wanted to be like him when they got older. Holly sighed loudly
and drained her drink. Now she was bored.
Daniel looked over. “Holly, can I get you a drink?”
“Ah no, it's OK, thanks, Daniel, I'm heading home soon anyway.”
“Ah Hol!” protested Ciara. “You can't go home so early! It's your night!”
Holly didn't feel like it was her night. She felt like she had gate-crashed a party and didn't know
anyone there.
“No, I'm all right, thanks,” she assured Daniel again.
“No, you're staying,” Ciara insisted. “Get her a vodka and Coke and I'll have the same again,”
she ordered Daniel.
“Ciara!” Holly exclaimed, embarrassed at her sister's rudeness.
“No, it's OK!” Daniel assured her. “I asked,” and he headed off to the bar.
“Ciara, that was so rude,” Holly gave out to her sister.
“What? It's not like he has to pay for it, he owns the bloody place,” she said defensively.
“That still doesn't mean you can go around demanding free drinks . . .”
“Where's Richard?” Ciara interrupted.
“Gone home.”
“Shit! How long ago?” She jumped down from her seat in a panic.
“I dunno, about five or ten minutes. Why?”
“He's supposed to be driving me home!” She threw everyone's coats into a pile on the floor
while she rooted around for her bag.
“Ciara, you'll never catch him now, he's gone far too long.”
“No, I will. He's parked ages away and he'll have to drive back down this road to get home. I'll
get him while he's passing.” She finally found her bag and legged it out the door yelling, “Bye,
Holly! Well done, you were shite!” and disappeared out the door.
Holly was once again alone. Great, she thought, watching Daniel carrying the drinks back to the
table, now she was stuck talking to him all by herself.
“Where's Ciara gone?” Daniel asked, placing the drinks on the table and sitting down opposite
Holly.
“Oh, she said to say she's really sorry but she had to chase my brother for a lift.” Holly bit her lip
guiltily, knowing full well that Ciara hadn't even given Daniel a second thought as she raced out
the door. “Sorry for being so rude to you earlier as well.” Then she started laughing, “God, you
must think we're the rudest family in the world. Ciara's a bit of a motormouth; she doesn't mean
what she says half the time.”
“And you did?” he smiled.
“At the time, yes,” she laughed again.
“Hey, it's fine, just means there's more drink for you,” he said, sliding the shot glass across the
table to her.
“Ugh, what is this?” Holly wrinkled her nose up at the smell.
Daniel looked away awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I can't remember.”
“Oh, come on!” Holly laughed. “You just ordered it! It's a woman's right to know what she's
drinking, you know!”
Daniel looked at her with a smile on his face. “It's called a BJ. You should have seen the
barman's face when I asked for one. I don't think he knew it was a shot!”
“Oh, God,” Holly said. “What's Ciara doing drinking this? It smells awful!”
“She said she found it easy to swallow.” He started laughing again.
“Oh, I'm sorry, Daniel, she really is ridiculous sometimes.” Holly shook her head over her sister.
Daniel stared past Holly's shoulder with amusement. “Well, it looks like your friend is having a
good night anyway.”
Holly swirled around and saw Denise and the DJ wrapped around each other beside the stage.
Her provocative poses had obviously worked.
“Oh no, not the horrible DJ who forced me to come out of the toilet,” Holly groaned.
“That's Tom O'Connor from Dublin FM,” Daniel said. “He's a friend of mine.”
Holly covered her face in embarrassment.
“He's working here tonight because the karaoke went out live on the radio,” he said seriously.
“What?” Holly nearly had a heart attack for the twentieth time that night.
Daniel's face broke into a smile. “Only joking; just wanted to see the look on your face.”
“Oh my God, don't do that to me,” Holly said, putting her hand on her heart. “Having the
people in here hear me was bad enough, never mind the entire city as well.” She waited for her
heart to stop pounding while Daniel stared at her with an amused look in his eye.
“If you don't mind me asking, if you hate it so much, why did you enter?” he asked carefully.
“Oh, my hilarious husband thought it would be funny to enter his tone-deaf wife into a singing
competition.”
Daniel laughed. “You weren't that bad! Is your husband here?” he asked, looking around. “I
don't want him thinking I'm trying to poison his wife with that awful concoction.” He nodded
toward the shot glass.
Holly looked around the club and smiled. “Yeah, he's definitely here . . . somewhere.”
Sixteen
HOLLY SECURED HER BEDSHEET ONTO the washing line with a peg and thought about
how she had bumbled around for the remainder of May trying to get her life into some sort of
order. Days went by when she felt so happy and content and confident that her life would be
OK, and then as quickly as the feeling came it would disappear again, and she would feel her
sadness setting in once more. She tried to find a routine she could happily fall into so that she
felt like she belonged in her body and her body belonged in this life, instead of wandering
around like a zombie watching everybody else live theirs while she waited around for hers to
end. Unfortunately the routine hadn't turned out exactly as she hoped it would. She found
herself immobile for hours in the sitting room, reliving every single memory that she and Gerry
had shared. Sadly, she spent most of that time thinking about every argument they had had,
wishing she could take them back, wishing she could take back every horrible word she had
ever said to him. She prayed that Gerry had known her words had only been spoken out of anger
and that they had not reflected her true feelings. She tortured herself for the times she had acted
selfishly, going out with her friends for the night when she was mad at him instead of staying
home with him. She chastised herself for walking away from him when she should have hugged
him, when she held grudges for days instead of forgiving him, when she went straight to sleep
some nights instead of making love to him. She wanted to take back every moment she knew he
had been so angry with her and hated her. She wished all her memories could be of the good
times, but the bad times kept coming back to haunt her. They had all been such a waste of time.
And nobody had told them that they were short on time.
Then there were her happy days, when she would walk around in a daydream with nothing but a
smile on her face, catching herself giggling as she walked down the street when a joke of theirs
would suddenly pop into her head. That was her routine. She would fall into days of deep dark
depression, then finally build up the strength to be positive and to snap out of it for another few
days. But the tiniest and simplest thing would trigger off her tears again. It was a tiring process,
and most of the time she couldn't be bothered battling with her mind. It was far stronger than
any muscle in her body.
Friends and family came and went, sometimes helping her with her tears, other times making her
laugh. But even in her laughter there was something missing. She never seemed to be truly
happy; she just seemed to be passing time while she waited for something else. She was tired of
just existing; she wanted to live. But what was the point in living when there was no life in it?
These questions went through her mind over and over until she reached the point of not
wanting to wake up from her dreams–they were what felt real.
Deep down, she knew it was normal to feel like this, she didn't particularly think she was losing
her mind. She knew that people said that one day she would be happy again and that this feeling
would just be a distant memory. It was getting to that day that was the hard part.
She read and reread Gerry's original letter over and over, analyzing each word and each
sentence, and each day she came up with a new meaning. But she could sit there till the cows
came home trying to read between the lines and guess the hidden message. The fact was that
she would never really know exactly what he meant because she would never speak to him ever
again. It was this thought that she had the most difficulty trying to come to terms with, and it
was killing her.
Now May had gone and June had arrived, bringing bright long evenings and the beautiful
mornings that came with them. And with these bright sunny days June brought clarity. There
was no hiding indoors as soon as it got dark, and there were no lie-ins until the afternoon. It
seemed as though the whole of Ireland had come out of hibernation, taken a big stretch and a
yawn and suddenly started living again. It was time to open all the windows and air the house,
to free it of the ghosts of the winter and dark days, it was time to get up early with the songbirds
and go for a walk and look people in the eye and smile and say hello instead of hiding under
layers of clothes with eyes to the ground while running from destination to destination and
ignoring the world. It was time to stop hiding in the dark and to hold your head up high and
come face-to-face with the truth.
June also brought another letter from Gerry.
Holly had sat out in the sun, reveling in the new brightness of life, and nervously yet excitedly
read the fourth letter. She loved the feel of the card and the bumps of Gerry's handwriting under
her finger as it ran over the dried ink. Inside, his neat handwriting had listed the items that
belonged to him that remained in the house, and beside each of his possessions he explained
what he wanted Holly to do with them and where he wished for them to be sent. At the bottom
it read:
PS, I love you, Holly, and I know you love me. You don't need my belongings to remember me
by, you don't need to keep them as proof that I existed or still exist in your mind. You don't need
to wear my sweater to feel me around you; I'm already there . . . always wrapping my arms
around you.
That had been difficult for Holly to come to terms with. She almost wished he would ask her to
do karaoke again. She would have jumped from an airplane for him; run a thousand miles,
anything except empty out his wardrobes and rid herself of his presence in the house. But he
was right and she knew it. She couldn't hang on to his belongings forever. She couldn't pretend
to herself that he was coming back to collect them. The physical Gerry was gone; he didn't need
his clothes.
It was an emotionally draining experience. It took her days to complete. She relived a million
memories with every garment and piece of paper she bagged. She held each item near to her
before saying good-bye. Every time an item left her fingers it was like saying good-bye to a part
of Gerry all over again. It was difficult; so difficult and at times too difficult.
She informed her family and friends of what she was about to do, and although they all offered
their assistance and support time and again, Holly knew she had to do this alone. She needed to
take her time. Say a proper good-bye because she wouldn't be getting anything back. Just like
Gerry, his belongings couldn't return. Despite Holly's wishes of wanting to be alone, Jack had
called around a few times to offer some brotherly support and Holly had appreciated it. Every
item had a history and they would talk and laugh about the memories surrounding it. He was
there for her when she cried and he was there when she finally clapped her hands together,
ridding her skin of the dust that remained. It was a difficult job but one that needed to be done.
And one that was made easier by Gerry's help. Holly didn't need to worry about making all the
big decisions, Gerry had already made them for her. Gerry was helping her, and for once, Holly
felt like she was helping him too.
She laughed as she bagged the dusty cassettes of his favorite rock band from his school days. At
least once a year Gerry came across the old shoe box during his efforts to control the mess that
grew inside his closet. He would blast the heavy metal music from every speaker in the house to
torment Holly with its screeching guitars and badly produced sound quality. She always told him
she couldn't wait to see the end of those tapes. The relief didn't wash over her as she once
hoped it would.
Her eyes rested upon a crumpled ball lying in the back corner of the wardrobe–Gerry's lucky
football jersey. It was still covered in grass and mud stains, fresh from its last victorious day on
the pitch. She held it close to her and inhaled deeply; the smell of beer and sweat was faint, but
still there. She put it aside to be washed and passed on to John.
So many objects, so many memories. Each was being labeled and packed away in bags just as it
was in her mind. To be stored in an area that would sometime be called upon to teach and help
in future life. Objects that were once so full of life and importance but that now lay limp on the
floor. Without him they were just things.
Gerry's wedding tuxedo, his suits, shirts and ties that he would moan about having to wear
every morning before going to work. The fashions of the years gone by, eighties shiny suits and
shell tracksuits bundled away. A snorkel from their first time scuba diving, a shell that he picked
from the ocean floor ten years ago, his collection of beer mats from every pub in every country
they had visited. Letters and birthday cards from friends and family sent to him over the years.
Valentine's Day cards from Holly. Childhood teddies and dolls put aside to be sent back to his
parents. Records of bills, his golf clubs for John, books for Sharon, memories, tears and laughter
for Holly.
His entire life bundled into twenty refuse sacks.
His and her memories bundled away into Holly's mind.
Each item unearthed dust, tears, laughter and memories. She bagged the items, cleared the dust,
wiped her eyes and filed away the memories.
Holly's mobile began to ring and she dropped the laundry basket onto the grass under the
washing line and ran through the patio doors into the kitchen to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“I'm gonna make you a star!” Declan's voice screeched hysterically on the other end and he
broke into uncontrollable laughter.
Holly waited for him to calm down while she searched her brain and tried to figure out what he
could be talking about. “Declan, are you drunk?”
“Maybe jus a li'l bit, but that's completely irrevelant,” he hiccuped.
“Declan, it's ten o'clock in the morning!” Holly laughed. “Have you been to bed yet?”
“Nope,” he hiccuped again, “I'm on the train home now and will be in bed in 'proximately three
hours.”
“Three hours! Where are you?” Holly laughed again. She was enjoying this, as it reminded her
of when she used to call Jack at all hours of the morning from all sorts of locations after
misbehaving on a night out.
“I'm in Galway. The 'wards were on last night,” he said, as if she should know.
“Oh, sorry for my ignorance, but what awards were you at?”
“I told you!”
“No you didn't.”
“I told Jack to tell you, the bastard–” He stumbled over his words.
“Well, he didn't,” she interrupted him, “so now you can tell me.”
“The student media 'wards were on last night and I won!” he yelled, and Holly heard what
sounded like the entire carriage celebrating with him. She was delighted for him.
“And the prize is that it's gonna be aired on Channel 4 next week! Can you believe it!” There
were more cheers this time and Holly could barely make out what he was saying. “You're gonna
be famous, sis!” was the last thing she heard before the line went dead. What was this odd
feeling she detected running through her body? Was it . . . no it couldn't . . . could it be that
Holly was experiencing a sensation of happiness?
She rang around her family to share the good news but learned that they had all received a
similar phone call. Ciara had stayed on the phone for ages chattering like an excited schoolgirl
about how they were going to be on TV, and eventually her story ended with her marrying
Denzel Washington. It was decided that the family would gather in Hogan's pub next
Wednesday to watch the documentary being aired. Daniel had kindly offered Club Diva as the
venue so they could watch it on the big wall screen. Holly was excited for her brother and rang
Sharon and Denise to let them know the good news.
“Oh, this is brill news, Holly!” Sharon whispered excitedly.
“Why are you whispering?” Holly whispered back.
“Oh, old wrinkly face here decided it would be a great idea to ban us from accepting personal
calls,” moaned Sharon, referring to her boss. “She says we spend more time chatting on the
phone to friends than doing business, so she's been patrolling our desks all morning. I swear I
feel like I'm back at school again with the old hag keeping her eye on us.” Suddenly she spoke
up and became businesslike. “May I take your details please?”
Holly laughed. “Is she there?”
“Yes absolutely,” Sharon continued.
“OK, well, I won't keep you very long then. The details are that we're all meeting up in Hogan's
on Wednesday night to watch it, so you're welcome to come.”
“That's great . . . OK.” Sharon pretended to take her details.
“Brilliant, we'll have fun. Sharon, what will I wear?”
“Hmm . . . brand-new or secondhand?”
“No, I really can't afford anything new; even though you forced me to buy that top a few weeks
ago, I'm refusing to wear it on the grounds that I am no longer eighteen. So probably something
old.”
“OK . . . red.”
“The red top I wore to your birthday?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“What's your current state of employment?”
“To be honest I haven't even started looking yet.” Holly chewed the inside of her mouth and
frowned.
“And date of birth?”
“Ha-ha, shut up, you bitch,” Holly laughed.
“I'm sorry, we only give motor insurance to ages twenty-four and older. You're too young, I'm
afraid.”
“I wish. OK, I'll speak to you later.”
“Thank you for calling.”
Holly sat at the kitchen table wondering what she should wear next week; she wanted
something new. She wanted to look sexy and gorgeous for a change, and she was sick of all her
old clothes. Maybe Denise had something in her shop. She was about to call when she received
a text message from Sharon.
HAG RITE BHIND ME
TLK 2 U L8R XXX
Holly picked up the phone and called Denise at work.
“Hello, 'Casuals,' ” answered a very polite Denise.
“Hello, Casuals, Holly here. I know I'm not supposed to call you at work but I just wanted to
tell you that Declan's documentary won some student award thingy and it's gonna be aired on
Wednesday night.”
“Oh, that's so cool, Holly! Are we gonna be in it?” she asked excitedly.
“Yeah, I think so. So we're all meeting up at Hogan's to watch it that night. You up for that?”
“Oooh, of course! I can bring my new boyfriend too,” she giggled.
“What new boyfriend?”
“Tom!”
“The karaoke guy?” Holly asked in shock.
“Yeah, of course! Oh Holly, I'm so in love!” she giggled childishly again.
“In love? But you only met him a few weeks ago!”
“Oh I don't care; it only takes a minute . . . as the saying goes.”
“Wow, Denise . . . I don't know what to say!”
“Tell me how great it is!”
“Yeah . . . wow . . . I mean . . . of course . . . it's really great news.”
“Oh, try not to sound too enthusiastic, Holly,” she said sarcastically. “Anyway, I can't wait for
you to meet him, you'll absolutely love him. Well, not as much as I do, but you'll certainly really
really like him.” She rambled on about how great he was.
“Denise, are you forgetting that I met him already?” Holly interrupted her in the middle of a
story about how Tom had saved a child from drowning.
“Yeah, I know you have, but I would rather you meet him when you're not acting like a
demented woman hiding in toilets and shouting into microphones.”
“Look forward to it then . . .”
“Yeah, cool, it's gonna be great! I've never been to my own premiere before!” she said
excitedly.
Holly rolled her eyes at her friend's dramatics and they said their good-byes.
Holly barely got any housework done that morning, as she spent most of the time talking on the
phone. Her mobile was burning and it was giving her a headache. She shuddered at the thought.
Every time she had a headache it reminded her of Gerry. She hated to hear her loved ones
complaining of headaches and migraines and would immediately launch herself at them,
warning them of the dangers and how they should take it more seriously and go see their
doctors. She ended up petrifying everyone with her stories and they eventually stopped telling
her when they felt ill.
She sighed loudly; she was turning into such a hypochondriac even her doctor was sick of the
sight of her. She went running to her in a panic over the tiniest little things, if she had a pain in
her leg or a cramp in her stomach. Last week she was convinced there was something wrong
with her feet; her toes just didn't look quite right. Her doctor had examined them seriously and
then had immediately started to scribble her prescription down on a slip of paper while Holly
watched in terror. Eventually she handed her the piece of paper, and scrawled messily in that
handwriting only doctors can perfect, was: “Buy bigger shoes.”
It may have been funny, but it cost her forty euro.
Holly had spent the last few minutes on the phone listening to Jack ranting and raving about
Richard. Richard had paid him a little visit, too. Holly wondered whether he was just trying to
bond with his siblings after years of hiding from them. Well, it was too little too late for most of
them, it seemed. It was certainly very difficult trying to hold a conversation with someone who
hadn't yet mastered the art of politeness. Oh, stop stop stop! she silently screamed to herself.
She needed to stop worrying, stop thinking, stop making her brain go on overdrive, and she
certainly needed to stop talking to herself. She was driving herself crazy.
She finally finished hanging out the washing more than two hours later and added another load
into the machine and turned it on. She switched the radio on in the kitchen and blared the
television from the living room and went back to work. Perhaps that would drown out the
whinging little voice in her head.
Seventeen
HOLLY ARRIVED AT HOGAN'S AND pushed her way through the old men in the pub to
make her way upstairs to Club Diva. The traditional band was in full swing and the crowd was
joining in on all their favorite Irish songs. It was only seven-thirty, so Club Diva wasn't officially
open yet. Looking around at the empty club, Holly saw a completely different venue from the
one she had been so terrified in a few weeks earlier. She was the first to arrive and settled
herself at a table right in front of the big screen so she would have a perfect view of her
brother's documentary, not that the place would be so crowded that anyone would stand in her
way.
A smashing glass over by the bar made her jump and she looked up to see who had joined her in
the room. Daniel emerged from behind the bar with a dustpan and brush in his hand. “Oh, hiya,
Holly, I didn't realize anyone had come in.” He stared at her in surprise.
“It's just me, I came early for a change.” She walked over to the bar to greet him. He looked
different tonight, she thought, inspecting him.
“God, you're really early,” he said, looking at his watch, “the others probably won't be here for
another hour or so.”
Holly looked confused and glanced at her watch. “But it's seven-thirty, the show starts at eight,
doesn't it?”
Daniel looked confused, “No, I was told nine o'clock, but I could be wrong . . .” He reached for
that day's paper and looked at the TV page. “Yep, nine o'clock, Channel 4.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “Oh no, I'm sorry, I'll wander around town for a bit and come back later
so,” she said, hopping off her stool.
“Hey, don't be silly.” He flashed his pearly whites. “The shops are all closed by now and you can
keep me company, that's if you don't mind . . .”
“Well, I don't mind if you don't mind . . .”
“I don't mind,” he said firmly.
“Well then, I'll stay so,” she said, happily hopping back onto her stool again. Daniel leaned his
hands against the taps in a typical barman's pose. “So now that that's settled, what can I get
you?” he said, smiling.
“Well, this is great, no queuing or shouting my order across the bar or anything,” she joked. “I'll
have a sparkling water, please.”
“Nothing stronger?” He raised his eyebrows. His smile was infectious; it seemed to reach from
ear to ear.
“No, I better not or I'll be drunk by the time everyone gets here.”
“Good thinking,” he agreed and reached behind him to the fridge to retrieve the bottled water.
Holly realized what it was that made him look so different; he wasn't wearing his trademark
black. He was wearing faded blue jeans and an open light blue shirt with a white T-shirt
underneath that made his blue eyes twinkle even more than usual. The sleeves of his shirt were
rolled up to just below his elbows. Holly could see his muscles through the light fabric. She
quickly averted her eyes as he slid the glass toward her.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked him.
“No thanks, I'll take care of this one.”
“No, please,” Holly insisted. “You've bought me plenty of drinks, it's my turn.”
“OK, I'll have a Budweiser then, thanks.” He leaned against the bar and continued to stare at
her.
“What? Do you want me to get it?” Holly laughed, jumping off her stool and walking around
the bar. Daniel stood back and watched her with amusement.
“I always wanted to work behind a bar when I was a kid,” she said, grabbing a pint glass and
pulling down on the tap. She was enjoying herself.
“Well, there's a spare job if you're looking for one,” Daniel said, watching her work closely.
“No thanks, I think I do a better job on the other side of the bar,” she laughed, filling the pint
glass.
“Mmm . . . well, if you're ever looking for a job, you know where to come,” Daniel said after
taking a gulp of his pint. “You did a good job.”
“Well, it's not exactly brain surgery,” she smiled, bouncing across to the other side of the bar.
She took out her purse and handed him money. “Keep the change,” she laughed.
“Thanks,” he smiled, turning to open the cash register, and she scorned herself for checking out
his bum. It was nice, though, firm but not as nice as Gerry's, she decided.
“Has your husband deserted you again tonight?” he teased, walking around the bar to join her.
Holly bit her lip and wondered how to answer him. Now wasn't really the time to talk about
something so depressing to someone who was only making chitchat, but she didn't want the
poor man to keep asking her every time he saw her. He would soon realize the truth, which
would cause him even more embarrassment.
“Daniel,” she said softly, “I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but my husband passed
away.”
Daniel stopped in his tracks and his cheeks blushed slightly. “Oh Holly, I'm sorry, I didn't
know,” he said sincerely.
“It's OK, I know you didn't.” She smiled to show him it was all right.
“Well, I didn't meet him the other night, but if someone had told me, I would have gone to the
funeral to pay my respects.” He sat beside her at the bar.
“Oh no, Gerry died in February, Daniel, he wasn't here the other night.”
Daniel looked confused. “But I thought you told me he was here . . .” He trailed off, thinking he
had misheard.
“Oh yeah.” Holly looked down at her feet with embarrassment. “Well, he wasn't here,” she said,
looking around the club, “but he was here,” she put her hand on her heart.
“Ah, I see,” he said, finally understanding. “Well then, you were even braver the other night
than I thought, considering the circumstances,” he said gently. Holly was surprised by how at
ease he seemed. Usually people stuttered and stammered their way through a sentence and
either wandered off or changed the subject. She felt relaxed in his presence, though, as if she
could talk openly without fear of crying. Holly smiled, shaking her head, and briefly explained
the story of the list.
“So that's why I ran off after Declan's gig that time,” Holly laughed.
“It wasn't because they were so terrible by any chance?” Daniel joked, then he looked lost in
thought. “Ah yes, that's right, that was the thirtieth of April.”
“Yeah, I couldn't wait any longer to open it,” Holly explained.
“Hmmm . . . when's the next one?”
“July,” she said excitedly.
“So I won't be seeing you on the thirtieth of June then,” he said dryly.
“Now you're getting the gist,” she laughed.
“I have arrived!” announced Denise to the empty room as she swanned in, dolled up to the nines
in the dress she had worn to the ball last year. Tom strolled in behind her, laughing and refusing
to take his eyes off her.
“God, you're dressed up,” Holly remarked, staring her friend up and down. In the end Holly had
decided to just wear a pair of jeans, black boots and a very simple black top. She hadn't been in
the mood to get all dressed up after all, especially as they were only sitting in an empty club, but
Denise hadn't quite grasped that concept.
“Well, it's not every day I get to go to my own premiere, is it?” she joked.
Tom and Daniel greeted each other with hugs. “Baby, this is Daniel, my best friend,” Tom said,
introducing Denise to Daniel. Daniel and Holly raised their eyebrows at each other and smiled,
both registering the use of the word “baby.”
“Hi, Tom.” Holly shook his hand after Denise had introduced her and he kissed her on the
cheek. “I'm sorry about the last time I met you, I wasn't feeling very sane that night.” Holly
blushed at the memory of the karaoke.
“Oh, that's no problem,” Tom smiled kindly. “If you hadn't entered then I wouldn't have met
Denise, so I'm glad you did,” he added, turning to face Denise. Daniel and Holly shared a
mutually pleased look for their friends, and Holly settled down on her stool feeling very
comfortable with these two new men.
After a while Holly discovered she was enjoying herself; she wasn't just pretending to laugh or
finding things mildly amusing, she was genuinely happy. The thought of that made her even
happier, as did the knowledge that Denise had finally found someone she really loved.
Minutes later the rest of the Kennedy family arrived, along with Sharon and John. Holly ran
down to greet her friends. “Hiya, hun,” Sharon said, giving her a hug. “You here long?”
Holly started laughing. “I thought it was on at eight o'clock so I came at half seven.”
“Oh no.” Sharon looked worried.
“Oh, don't worry, it was fine. Daniel kept me company,” she said, pointing over to him.
“Him?” John said angrily, “Watch yourself with him, Holly, he's a bit of an oddball. You should
have heard the stuff he was saying to Sharon the other night.”
Holly giggled to herself and quickly excused herself from their company to join her family.
“Meredith not with you tonight?” she boldly asked Richard.
“No, she's not,” he snapped back rudely and headed over to the bar.
“Why does he bother coming to these things at all?” she moaned to Jack while he held her head
to his chest and rubbed her hair, playfully consoling her.
“OK, everyone!” Declan stood on a stool and announced to the group, “Because Ciara couldn't
decide what to wear tonight, we're all late and my documentary is about to start any minute. So
if you can just all shut up and sit down that would be great.”
“Oh, Declan.” Holly's mother admonished him for his rudeness.
Holly searched around the room for Ciara and spotted her glued to Daniel's side at the bar. She
laughed to herself and settled down to watch the documentary. As soon as the announcer
introduced it, everybody cheered, but they were quickly hushed by an angry Declan, who didn't
want them to miss a thing.
The words “Girls and the City” appeared over a beautiful nighttime shot of Dublin city, and
Holly became nervous. The words “The Girls” appeared over a black screen and was followed
by a shot of Sharon, Denise, Abbey and Ciara all squashed beside each other in the back of a
taxi. Sharon was speaking:
“Hello! I'm Sharon and this is Abbey, Denise and Ciara.”
Each of the girls posed for their close-up as they were introduced.
“And we're heading to our best friend Holly's house because it's her birthday today . . .”
The scene changed to the girls surprising Holly with shouts of “Happy Birthday” at her front
door. It returned to Sharon in the taxi.
“Tonight it's gonna be just us girls and NO men . . .”
The scene switched to Holly opening the presents and holding the vibrator up to the camera and
saying, “Well, I'll definitely need this!” Then it returned to Sharon in the taxi saying:
“We are gonna do lots and lots of drinking . . .”
Now Holly was popping open the champagne, then the girls were knocking back shots in
Boudoir, and eventually it showed Holly with the crooked tiara on her head, drinking out of a
champagne bottle with a straw.
“We are gonna go clubbing . . .”
There was then a shot of the girls in Boudoir doing some very embarrassing moves on the dance
floor. Sharon was shown next, speaking sincerely.
“But nothing too mad! We're gonna be good girls tonight!”
The next scene showed the girls protesting wildly as they were escorted out of the club by three
bouncers.
Holly's jaw dropped open and she stared in shock over at Sharon, who was equally surprised.
The men just laughed their hearts out and slapped Declan on the back, congratulating him for
exposing their partners. Holly, Sharon, Denise, Abbey and even Ciara slithered down in their
seats with humiliation.
What on earth had Declan done?
Eighteen
THERE WAS COMPLETE SILENCE IN the club as everyone stared at the screen in
anticipation. Holly held her breath; she was nervous now about what was going to appear.
Perhaps the girls would be reminded of what exactly they had all conveniently succeeded in
forgetting about that night. The truth terrified her. After all, how drunk must they all have been
to completely forget the events of that night? Unless somebody was lying, in which case they
should be even more nervous right now. Holly looked around at the girls. They were all chewing
on their fingernails. Holly crossed her fingers.
A new title appeared on the screen, “The Gifts.” “Open mine first,” shrieked Ciara from the
television, thrusting her present toward Holly and shoving Sharon off the couch and onto the
ground. Everyone in the club laughed while they watched Abbey dragging a horrified Sharon to
her feet. Ciara left Daniel's side and tiptoed over to the rest of the girls for security. Everyone
oohed and aahed, as one by one Holly's birthday presents were unveiled. A lump formed in
Holly's throat as Declan zoomed in on the two photographs on the mantelpiece while Sharon's
toast was made.
Once again a new title took over the screen, “Journey to the City,” and showed the girls
scrambling over one another to get into the seven-seater taxi. It was obvious they were pretty
pissed by now. Holly was shocked; she had actually thought she was quite sober at that stage.
“Oh, John,” Holly moaned drunkenly to the taxi driver from the passenger seat, “I'm thirty
today, can you believe it?”
John the taxi driver, who couldn't give a flying flute what age she was, glanced over at her and
laughed, “Sure you're only a young one still, Holly.” His voice was low and gravelly. The
camera zoomed in on Holly's face and she cringed at the sight of herself. She looked so drunk,
so sad.
“But what am I gonna do, John?” she whinged. “I'm thirty! I have no job, no husband, no
children and I'm thirty! Did I tell you that?” she asked, leaning toward him. Behind her Sharon
giggled. Holly thumped her.
In the background you could hear the girls all chattering excitedly to one another. Actually it
sounded like they were talking over one another; it was hard to see how any type of
conversation was going on.
“Ah, enjoy yourself tonight, Holly, don't get caught up in silly emotions on your birthday. Worry
about all that shite tomorrow, love.” John sounded so caring, Holly made a note to call him and
thank him.
The camera stayed with Holly as she leaned her head against the window and remained silent,
lost in thought for the rest of the journey. Holly couldn't get over how lonely she looked. She
didn't like it. She looked around the room in embarrassment and caught Daniel's eye. He winked
at her in encouragement. Well, if she needed winks for encouragement, she thought, then
everybody must have been thinking the same thing. She smiled weakly and turned back around
to face the screen in time to see herself screaming to the girls on O'Connell Street.
“OK, girls. We are going to Boudoir tonight and no one is going to stop us from getting in,
especially not any silly bouncers who think they own the place,” and she marched off in what
she thought at the time was a straight line. All the girls cheered and followed after her.
The scene immediately jumped to the two bouncers outside Boudoir shaking their heads. “Not
tonight, girls, sorry.”
Holly's family howled with laughter.
“But you don't understand,” Denise said calmly to the bouncers. “Do you not know who we
are?”
“No,” they both said and stared over their heads, ignoring them.
“Huh!” Denise put her hands on her hips and pointed to Holly. “But this is the very, very
extremely famous . . . em . . . Princess Holly from the royal family of . . . Finland.” On camera
Holly frowned at Denise.
Her family once again howled with laughter. “You couldn't write a script better than this,”
Declan laughed.
“Oh, she's royalty, is she?” the bouncer with a mustache smirked.
“Indeed she is,” Denise said seriously.
“Finland got a royal family, Paul?” Mustache Man turned to Paul.
“Don't think so, boss,” was the reply.
Holly fixed the crooked tiara on her head and gave them both a royal wave. “You see?” Denise
said, satisfied. “You men will be very embarrassed if you don't let her in.”
“Supposing we let her in then, you'll have to stay outside,” Mustache Man said and motioned
for the people behind them in the queue to pass by and enter the club. Holly gave them a royal
wave as they passed.
“Oh, no no no no,” Denise laughed. “You don't understand. I am her . . . lady-in-waiting, so I
need to be with her at all times.”
“Well then, you won't mind waiting till she comes out at closing time then,” Paul smirked.
Tom, Jack and John all started laughing and Denise slithered down even further in her seat.
Finally Holly spoke. “Oh, one must have a drink. One is dreadfully thirsty.”
Paul and Mustache Man snorted and tried to keep a straight face while still staring over their
heads.
“No, honestly, girls, not tonight, you need to be a member.”
“But I am a member of the royal family!” Holly said sternly. “Off with your heads!” she
commanded, pointing at the both of them.
Denise quickly forced Holly's arm down. “Honestly, the princess and I will be no trouble at all,
just let us in for a few drinks,” she pleaded.
Mustache Man stared down at the two of them then raised his eyes to the sky. “All right then,
go on in,” he said, stepping aside.
“God bless you,” Holly said, making the sign of the cross at them as she passed.
“What is she, a princess or a priest?” laughed Paul as she entered the club.
“She's out of her mind,” laughed Mustache Man, “but it's the best excuse I've heard while I've
been on the job,” and the two of them sniggered. They regained their composure as Ciara and
her entourage approached the door.
“Is it OK if my film crew follow me in?” Ciara said confidently in a brilliant Australian accent.
“Hold on while I check with the manager.” Paul turned his back and spoke into the
walkie-talkie. “Yeah, that's no problem, go ahead,” he said, holding the door open for her.
“That's that Australian singer, isn't it?” Mustache Man said to Paul.
“Yeah, good song that.”
“Tell the boys inside to keep an eye on the princess and her lady,” said Mustache Man. “We
don't want them bothering that singer with the pink hair.”
Holly's father choked on his drink from laughing, and Elizabeth rubbed his back for him while
giggling herself.
As Holly watched the image of the inside of Boudoir on the screen she remembered being
disappointed by the club. There had always been a mystery as to what “Boudoir” looked like.
The girls had read in a magazine that there was a water feature inside that Madonna had
apparently jumped into one night. Holly had imagined a huge waterfall cascading down the wall
of the club that continued to flow in little bubbling streams all around the club while all the
glamorous people sat around it and occasionally dipped their glasses into it to fill them with
more champagne. But instead of her champagne waterfall, what Holly got was an oversized fish
bowl in the center of the circular bar. What that had to do with anything she didn't know. Her
dreams were shattered. The room wasn't as big as Holly thought it would be, and it was
decorated in rich reds and gold. On the far side of the room was a huge gold curtain acting as a
partition, which was blocked by another menacing-looking bouncer.
At the top of the room the main attraction was a massive king-size bed, which was tilted on a
platform toward the rest of the club. On top of the gold silk sheets were two skinny models
dressed in no more than gold body paint and tiny gold thongs. It was all a bit too tacky.
“Look at the size of those thongs!” gasped Denise in disgust. “I have a plaster on my baby
finger bigger than those.”
Beside her in Club Diva, Tom chuckled and began to nibble on Denise's baby finger. Holly
looked away and returned her gaze to the screen.
“Good evening and welcome to the twelve o'clock news, I'm Sharon McCarthy.” Sharon stood
in front of the camera with a bottle in her hand serving as a microphone, and Declan had angled
the camera so that she could get Ireland's famous newsreaders in the shot.
“Today on the thirtieth birthday of Princess Holly of Finland, her royal self and her
lady-in-waiting finally succeeded in being granted access to the famous celebrity hangout
Boudoir. Also present is Australian rock chick Ciara and her film crew and . . .” She held her
finger to her ear as though she were receiving more information. “News just in, it appears that
Ireland's favorite newsreader Tony Walsh was seen smiling just moments ago. Here beside me I
have a witness to the fact. Welcome, Denise.” Denise posed seductively at the camera. “Denise,
tell me, where were you when this event was taking place?”
“Well, I was just over there beside his table when I saw it happening.” Denise sucked in her
cheekbones and smiled at the camera.
“Can you explain to us what happened?”
“Well, I was just standing there minding my own business when Mr. Walsh took a sip of his
drink and then shortly afterward he smiled.”
“Gosh, Denise, this is fascinating news. Are you sure it was a smile?”
“Well, it could have been trapped wind causing him to make a face, but others around me also
thought it was a smile.”
“So there were others who witnessed this?”
“Yes, Princess Holly beside me here saw the whole thing.”
The camera panned across to Holly where she stood drinking from a champagne bottle with a
straw. “So Holly, can you tell us, was it wind or a smile?”
Holly looked confused then rolled her eyes. “Oh wind, sorry, I think it's this champagne that's
doing it to me.”
Club Diva erupted in laughter. Jack as usual laughed the loudest. Holly hid her face in shame.
“OK then. . . ,” Sharon said, trying not to laugh. “So you heard it here first. The night when
Ireland's grimmest presenter was seen smiling. Back to you at the studio.” Sharon's smile faded
as she looked up and saw Tony Walsh standing beside her, not surprisingly without a smile on
his face.
Sharon gulped and said, “Good evening,” and the camera was switched off. Everyone in the
club was laughing at this stage, including the girls. Holly was finding the whole thing just so
ridiculous that she had to laugh.
The camera was switched back on and this time it was focused on the mirror in the ladies' toilet.
Declan was filming from outside through a slit in the doorway and Denise and Sharon's
reflections were clearly visible.
“I was only having a laugh,” Sharon huffed, fixing her lipstick.
“Don't mind the miserable sod, Sharon, he just doesn't want the camera in his face all night,
especially on his night off. I can understand that.”
“Oh, you're on his side, I suppose,” Sharon said grumpily.
“Ah shut up, you moany old whore,” Denise snapped.
“Where's Holly?” Sharon asked, changing the subject.
“Don't know, last time I saw her she was doing a few funky moves on the dance floor,” said
Denise. The two of them looked at each other and laughed.
“Ah . . . our poor little Disco Diva,” said Sharon sadly. “I hope she finds someone gorgeous out
there tonight and snogs the face off him.”
“Yeah,” agreed Denise. “Come on then, let's go find her a man,” she said, putting her makeup
back in her bag.
Just after the girls left the toilet another toilet flushed from the cubicle. The door opened and
out stepped Holly. Holly's big smile faded quickly when she saw her face on the screen.
Through the crack in the door you could see Holly's reflection in the mirror; her eyes were red
from crying. She blew her nose and stared miserably at herself in the mirror for a while. She took
a deep breath and opened the door and carried on downstairs to her friends. Holly hadn't
remembered crying that night; in fact, she thought she had gotten through it very well. She
rubbed her face while she worried about what else was coming up next that she couldn't
remember.
Finally the scene changed and the words “Operation Gold Curtain” came up. Denise screamed,
“Oh my God, Declan, you bastard!” very loudly and rushed off to the toilet to hide.
She had obviously remembered something.
Declan chuckled and lit himself another cigarette.
“OK, girls,” Denise was announcing. “It is now time for Operation Gold Curtain.”
“Huh?” Sharon and Holly announced groggily from the couch where they had collapsed in a
drunken stupor.
“Operation Gold Curtain,” Denise exclaimed excitedly, trying to drag them to their feet. “It's
time to infiltrate the VIP bar!”
“You mean this isn't it?” Sharon said sarcastically, looking around the club.
“No! That's where the real celebs go!” Denise said excitedly, pointing at the gold curtain, which
was blocked by possibly the biggest and tallest man on the planet.
“I don't really care where the celebs are, to be honest, Denise,” piped up Holly. “I'm fine here
where I am,” and she snuggled into the cozy couch.
Denise groaned and rolled her eyes. “Girls! Abbey and Ciara are in there, why aren't we?”
Jack looked curiously across at his girlfriend. Abbey shrugged her shoulders weakly and held her
face in her hand. None of this was jogging anybody's memory except of course Denise's, and she
had fled the room. Jack's smile suddenly faded and he slid down in his chair and crossed his
arms. It was obviously all right for his sister to act the fool but his girlfriend was a different
matter. Jack placed his feet up on the chair in front of him and quieted down for the rest of the
documentary.
Once Sharon and Holly had heard that Abbey and Ciara were in the room, they sat up
attentively and listened to Denise's plan. “OK, girlies, here's what we're gonna do!”
Holly turned away from the screen and nudged Sharon. Holly couldn't remember doing or saying
any of these things at all; she was beginning to think Declan had hired look-alike actors as a
horrible practical joke. Sharon turned to face her with wide worried eyes and shrugged. Nope,
she wasn't there that night either. The camera followed the three girls as they very suspiciously
approached the gold curtain and loitered around like idiots. Sharon finally built up the courage
to tap the giant on the shoulder, causing him to turn around and provide Denise with enough
time to escape under the curtain. She got down on her hands and knees and stuck her head
through to the VIP bar while her bum and legs stuck out from the other side of the curtain.
Holly kicked her in the bum to hurry her along.
“I can see them!” Denise hissed loudly. “Oh my God! They're speaking to that Hollywood actor
guy!” She took her head back out from under the curtain and looked at Holly with excitement.
Unfortunately, Sharon was running out of things to say to the giant bouncer and he turned his
head just in time to catch Denise.
“No no no no no!” Denise said calmly again. “You don't understand! This is Princess Holly of
Sweden!”
“Finland,” Sharon corrected her.
“Sorry, Finland,” Denise said, remaining on her knees. “I am bowing to her. Join me!”
Sharon quickly got on her knees and the two of them began to worship Holly's feet. Holly
looked around awkwardly as everyone in the club began to stare, and she once again gave them
the royal wave. Nobody seemed very impressed.
“Oh Holly!” her mother said, trying to catch her breath after laughing so hard.
The big burly bouncer turned his back and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Boys, got a situation
with the princess and the lady.”
Denise looked at both the girls in panic and mouthed, “Hide!” The girls jumped to their feet and
fled. The camera searched through the crowds for the girls but couldn't find them.
From her seat in Club Diva, Holly groaned loudly and held her head in her hands as it finally
clicked with her what was about to happen.
Nineteen
PAUL AND MUSTACHE MAN RUSHED upstairs to the club and met up at the gold curtain
with the very big man. “What's going on?” Mustache Man asked him.
“Those girls you told me to keep my eye on tried to crawl through to the other side,” the big
man said seriously. You could tell by looking at him that his previous job involved killing people
if they tried to crawl over to the other side. He was taking this breach of security very seriously.
“Where are they?” Mustache Man asked.
The big man cleared his throat and looked away. “They're hiding, boss.”
Mustache Man rolled his eyes. “They're hiding?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Where? In the club?”
“I think so, boss.”
“You think so?”
“Well, they didn't pass us on our way in, so they must still be here,” Paul piped up.
“OK,” Mustache Man sighed. “Well, let's start looking then, get someone to keep an eye on the
curtain.”
The camera secretly followed the three bouncers as they patrolled the club looking behind
couches, under tables, behind curtains; they even got someone to check the toilets. Holly's
family laughed hysterically at the scene unfolding before their eyes.
There was a bit of commotion at the top of the club and the bouncers headed toward the noise
to sort it out. A crowd was beginning to gather around and the two skinny dancers dressed in
gold body paint had stopped dancing and were staring with horrified expressions at the bed. The
camera panned across to the king-size bed that was tilted for display. Underneath the gold silk
sheets there appeared to be three pigs fighting under a blanket. Sharon, Denise and Holly rolled
around screaming at one another, trying to make themselves as flat as possible so they wouldn't
be noticed. The crowd thickened, and soon enough the music was shut down. The three big
lumps under the bed stopped squirming and suddenly froze, not knowing what was going on
outside.
The bouncers counted to three and pulled the covers off the bed. Three very startled-looking
girls appearing like deer caught in headlights stared back at them and lay there as flat as they
could on their backs with their arms stiffly by their sides.
“One just had to get forty winks before one left,” Holly said with her royal accent and the other
girls burst out laughing.
“Come on, Princess, the fun's over,” said Paul. The three men accompanied the girls outside,
assuring them that they would never again be allowed back into the club.
“Can I just tell my friends that we're gone?” Sharon asked.
The men tutted and looked away.
“Excuse me? Am I talking to myself? I asked you if it was OK if I go in and tell my friends that
we had to leave?”
“Look, stop playing around, girls,” Mustache Man said angrily. “Your friends aren't in there.
Now off you go, back to your beds.”
“Excuse me,” Sharon said angrily, “I have two friends in the VIP bar; one of them has pink hair
and the other one . . .”
“Girls!” he raised his voice. “She does not want anyone bothering her. She is no more your
friend than the man on the moon. Now clear off before you get yourselves into more trouble.”
Everyone in the club howled with laughter.
The scene changed to “The Long Journey Home,” and all the girls were in the taxi. Abbey sat
like a dog with her head hanging out of the open window by order of the taxi driver. “You're
not throwing up in my cab. You either stick your head out the window or you walk home.”
Abbey's face was almost purple and her teeth were chattering, but she wasn't going to walk all
the way home. Ciara sat with her arms crossed and with a huff on her face, angry with the girls
for forcing her to leave the club so early but more embarrassingly for blowing her cover as a
famous rock singer. Sharon and Denise had fallen asleep with their heads resting on each other.
The camera turned around to focus on Holly, who was sitting in the passenger seat once again.
But this time she wasn't talking the ear off the taxi driver; she rested her head on the back of the
seat and stared straight ahead out into the dark night. Holly knew what she was thinking as she
watched herself. Time to go home to that big empty house alone again.
“Happy Birthday, Holly,” Abbey's tiny little voice trembled.
Holly turned around to smile at her and came face-to-face with the camera. “Are you still filming
with that thing? Turn it off!” and she knocked the camera out of Declan's hand. The end.
As Daniel went to turn the lights up in the club, Holly slipped quickly away from the gang and
escaped through the nearest door. She needed to collect her thoughts before everyone started
talking about it. She found herself in a tiny storeroom surrounded by mops and buckets and
empty kegs. What a stupid place to hide, she thought. She sat down on a keg and thought about
what she had just seen. She was in shock. She felt confused and angry at Declan; he had told
her that he was making a documentary about club life. She distinctly remembered him not
mentioning anything about making a show of her and her friends. And he had literally made a
show of them. If he had asked her politely if he could do it, that would be a different matter.
Although she still wouldn't have agreed to do it.
But the last thing she wanted to do right now was to scream at Declan in front of everyone.
Apart from the fact that the documentary had completely humiliated her, Declan had actually
filmed it and edited it very well. If it had been anyone else but her on the TV, Holly would have
thought it very deserving of the award. But it was her, so therefore it didn't deserve to win . . .
Parts of it had been funny, she agreed, and she didn't mind so much the bits of her and her
friends being so silly, it was more the sneaky shots of her unhappiness that bothered her.
Thick salty tears trickled down her face and she wrapped her arms around her body to comfort
herself. She had seen on television how she truly felt. Lost and alone. She cried for Gerry, she
cried for herself with big, thick, heaving sobs that hurt her ribs whenever she tried to catch her
breath. She didn't want to be alone anymore, and she didn't want her family seeing the
loneliness she tried so hard to hide from them. She just wanted Gerry back and didn't care about
anything else. She didn't care if he came back and they fought every day, she didn't care if they
were broke and had no house and no money. She just wanted him. She heard the door open
behind her and felt big strong arms wrapping themselves around her frail body. She cried as
though months of built-up anguish were all tumbling out at once.
“What's wrong with her? Didn't she like it?” she heard Declan ask worriedly.
“Just leave her be, son,” her mum said softly, and the door was closed behind them again as
Daniel stroked her hair and rocked her softly.
Finally after crying what felt like all the tears in the world, Holly stopped and let go of Daniel.
“Sorry,” she sniffed, drying her face with the sleeves of her top.
“There's no need to be sorry,” he said, gently removing her hand from her face and handing her a
tissue.
She sat in silence while trying to compose herself.
“If you're upset about the documentary, then there's no need,” he said, sitting down on a crate of
glasses opposite her.
“Yeah right,” she said sarcastically, wiping her tears again.
“No really,” he said honestly, “I thought it was really funny. You all looked like you were
having a great time.” He smiled at her.
“Pity that's not how I felt,” she said sadly.
“Maybe that's not how you felt, but the camera doesn't pick up on feelings, Holly.”
“You don't have to try to make me feel better.” Holly was embarrassed at being consoled by a
stranger.
“I'm not trying to make you feel better, I'm just saying it like it is. Nobody but you noticed
whatever it is that's upsetting you. I didn't see anything, so why should anyone else?”
Holly felt mildly better. “Are you sure?”
“I'm sure I'm sure,” he said, smiling. “Now you really have to stop hiding in all the rooms in my
club, I might take it personally,” he laughed.
“Are the girls OK?” Holly asked, hoping it was just her being stupid after all. There was loud
laughter from outside.
“They're fine, as you can hear,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Ciara's delighted everyone
will think she's a star, Denise has finally come out of the toilet and Sharon just can't stop
laughing. Although Jack's giving Abbey a hard time about throwing up on the way home.”
Holly giggled.
“So you see, nobody even noticed what you saw.”
“Thanks, Daniel.” She took a deep breath and smiled at him.
“You ready to go face your public?” he asked.
“Think so.” Holly stepped outside to the sounds of laughter. The lights were up and everyone
was sitting around the table and happily sharing jokes and stories. Holly joined the table and sat
beside her mum. Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her daughter and gave her a kiss on the
cheek.
“Well, I thought it was great,” announced Jack enthusiastically. “If only we could get Declan to
go out with the girls all the time, then we'd know what they get up to, eh John?” He winked
over at Sharon's husband.
“Well, I can assure you,” Abbey spoke up, “that what you saw is not a regular girls' night out.”
The boys weren't having any of it.
“So is it OK?” Declan asked Holly, afraid he had upset his sister.
Holly threw him a look.
“I thought you would like it, Hol,” he said worriedly.
“I might have liked it if I had known what you were doing,” she snapped back.
“But I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said genuinely.
“I hate surprises,” she said, rubbing her stinging eyes.
“Let that be a lesson to you, son,” Frank warned his son. “You shouldn't go around filming
people without them knowing what you're doing. It's illegal.”
“I bet they didn't know that when they chose him for the award,” Elizabeth agreed.
“You're not gonna tell them, are you, Holly?” Declan asked worriedly.
“Not if you're nice to me for the next few months,” Holly said, slyly twisting her hair around her
finger. Declan made a face; he was stuck and he knew it. “Yeah whatever,” he said, waving her
away.
“To tell you the truth, Holly, I have to admit I thought it was quite funny,” giggled Sharon.
“You and your Operation Gold Curtain,” she thumped Denise playfully on the leg.
Denise rolled her eyes. “Oh, I can tell you all something–I am never drinking again.”
Everyone laughed and Tom wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“What?” she said innocently. “I really mean it.”
“Speaking of drink, would anyone like one?” Daniel stood up from his chair. “Jack?”
“Yeah, a Budweiser, thanks.”
“Abbey?”
“Em . . . a white wine, please,” she said politely.
“Frank?”
“A Guinness, thanks, Daniel.”
“I'll have the same,” said John.
“Sharon?”
“Just a Coke, please. Holly, you want the same?” she said, looking at her friend. Holly nodded.
“Tom?”
“JD and Coke, please, Dan.”
“Me too,” said Declan.
“Denise?” Daniel tried to hide his smile.
“Em . . . I'll have a . . . gin and tonic, please.”
“Ha!” everyone jeered her.
“What?” She shrugged her shoulders as though she didn't care. “One drink is hardly going to kill
me . . .”
Holly was standing over the sink with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows scrubbing the pots
when she heard the familiar voice.
“Hi, honey.”
She looked up and saw him standing at the open patio doors. “Hello, you,” she smiled.
“Miss me?”
“Of course.”
“Have you found that new husband yet?”
“Of course I have, he's upstairs in bed asleep,” she laughed, drying her hands.
Gerry shook his head and tutted, “Shall I go up and suffocate him for sleeping in our bed?”
“Ah, give him another hour or so,” she joked, looking at her watch, “he needs his rest.”
He looked happy, she thought, fresh-faced and still as beautiful as she remembered. He was
wearing her favorite blue top, which she had bought him one Christmas. He stared at her from
under his long eyelashes with his big brown puppy eyes.
“Are you coming in?” she asked, smiling.
“No, I just popped by to see how you are. Everything going OK?” He leaned against the door
ledge with his hands in his pockets.
“So, so,” she said, weighing her hands in the air. “Could be better.”
“I hear you're a TV star now,” he grinned.
“A very reluctant one,” she laughed.
“You'll have men falling all around you,” he assured her.
“Falling all around me is right,” she agreed. “The problem is they keep missing the target,” she
said, pointing to herself. He laughed. “I miss you, Gerry.”
“I haven't gone far,” he said softly.
“You leaving me again?”
“For the time being.”
“See you soon,” she smiled.
He winked at her and disappeared.
Holly woke up with a smile on her face and felt like she had slept for days.
“Good morning, Gerry,” she said, happily staring up at the ceiling.
The phone rang beside her. “Hello?”
“Oh my God, Holly, just take a look at the weekend papers,” Sharon said in a panic.
Twenty
HOLLY IMMEDIATELY LEAPT OUT OF bed, threw on a tracksuit and drove to her nearest
newsagent. She reached the newspaper stand and began to leaf through the pages in search of
what Sharon had been raving about. The man behind the counter coughed loudly and Holly
looked up at him. “This is not a library, young lady, you'll have to buy that,” he said, nodding at
the newspaper in her hand.
“I know that,” she said, irritated by his rudeness. Honestly, how on earth was anyone supposed
to know which paper they wanted to buy if they didn't even know which paper had what they
were looking for? She ended up picking up every single newspaper from the stand and slammed
them down on the counter, smiling sweetly at him.
The man looked startled and started to scan them into the register one by one. A queue began to
form behind her.
She stared longingly at the selection of chocolate bars displayed in front of her and looked
around to see if anyone was looking at her. Everyone was staring. She quickly turned back to
face the counter. Finally her arm jumped up and grabbed the two king-size chocolate bars
nearest to her on the shelf from the bottom of the pile. One by one the rest of the chocolate
began to slide onto the floor. The teenager behind her snorted and looked away laughing as
Holly bent down with a red face and began to pick them up. So many had fallen she had to
make several trips up and down. The shop was silent, apart from a few coughs from the
impatient queue behind her. She sneakily added another few packets of sweets to her pile. “For
the kids,” she said loudly to the newsagent, hoping everyone behind her would also hear.
He just grunted at her and continued scanning the items. Then she remembered she needed to
get milk, so she rushed from the queue to the end of the shop to retrieve a pint of milk from the
fridge. A few women tutted loudly as she made her way back to the top of the queue, where she
added the milk to her pile. The newsagent stopped scanning to stare at her; she stared back
blankly at him.
“Mark,” he yelled.
A spotty young teenager appeared from one of the shopping aisles with a pricing gun in his
hand. “Yeah?” he said grumpily.
“Open the other till, will ya, son, we might be here for a while.” He glared at her.
Holly made a face at him.
Mark dragged his body over to the second till, all the time staring at Holly. What? she thought
defensively; don't blame me for having to do your job. He took over the till and the entire queue
behind her rushed over to the other side. Satisfied that no one was staring at her anymore, she
grabbed a few packets of crisps from below the counter and added them to her purchases.
“Birthday party,” she mumbled.
In the queue beside her, the teenager asked for a packet of cigarettes quietly.
“Got any ID?” Mark asked loudly.
The teenager looked around in embarrassment with a red face. Holly snorted at him and looked
away.
“Anything else?” the newsagent asked sarcastically.
“No thank you, that will be all,” she said through gritted teeth. She paid her money and fumbled
with her purse, trying to put all the change back in.
“Next,” the newsagent nodded to the customer behind her.
“Hiya, can I have twenty Benson and–”
“Excuse me,” Holly interrupted the man. “Could I have a bag, please,” she said politely, staring
at the huge pile of groceries in front of her.
“Just a moment,” he said rudely, “I'll deal with this gentleman first. Yes sir, cigarettes is it?”
“Please,” the customer said, looking at Holly apologetically.
“Now,” he said, returning to her, “what can I get you?”
“A bag.” She clenched her jaw.
“That'll be twenty cents please.”
Holly sighed loudly and reached into her bag, searching through the mess to find her money
again. Another queue formed behind her.
“Mark, take over the till again, will you?” he said snidely.
Holly took the coin out of her purse and slammed it down on the counter and began to fill the
bag with her items.
“Next,” he said again, looking over her shoulder. Holly felt under pressure to get out of the way
and began stuffing the bag full in panic.
“I'll wait till the lady here is ready,” the customer said politely.
Holly smiled at him appreciatively and turned to leave the shop. She walked away grumbling to
herself till Mark, the boy behind the counter, startled her by yelling, “Hey, I know you! You're
the girl from the telly!”
Holly swirled around in surprise and the plastic handle broke from the weight of all the
newspapers. Everything fell onto the floor and her chocolate, sweets and crisps went rolling in
all directions.
The friendly customer got down on his knees to help her gather her belongings while the rest of
the shop watched in amusement and wondered who the girl from the telly was.
“It is you, isn't it?” the boy laughed.
Holly smiled up weakly at him from the floor.
“I knew it!” He clapped his hands together with excitement. “You're cool!” Yeah, she really felt
cool, on her knees on the floor of a shop searching for bars of chocolate. Holly's face went red
and she nervously cleared her throat. “Em . . . excuse me, could I have another bag, please?”
“Yeah, that'll be–”
“There you go,” the friendly customer interrupted him, placing a twenty-cent coin down on the
counter. The newsagent looked perplexed and continued serving the customers.
“I'm Rob,” the man said, helping her put all her chocolate back into the bag, and held his hand
out.
“I'm Holly,” she said, a little embarrassed by his overfriendliness as she took his hand. “And I'm
a chocoholic.”
He laughed.
“Thanks for the help,” she said gratefully, getting to her feet.
“No problem.” He held the door open for her. He was good-looking, she thought, a few years
older than her, and had the oddest colored eyes, a kind of a gray-green color. She squinted at
him and took a closer look.
He cleared his throat.
She blushed, suddenly realizing she had been staring at him like a fool. She walked out to her
car and placed the bulging bag in the backseat. Rob followed her over. Her heart did a little flip.
“Hi again,” he said. “Em . . . I was wondering if you would like to go for a drink?” Then he
laughed, glancing at his watch. “Actually, it's a bit too early for that, how about a coffee?”
He was a very confident man and he rested himself coolly against the car opposite Holly, his
hands sat in the pockets of his jeans with his thumbs resting outside, and those weird eyes just
stared back at her. However, he didn't make her feel uncomfortable; in fact, he was acting very
relaxed, as though asking a stranger out for coffee was the most natural thing in the world. Was
this what people did these days?
“Em . . .” Holly thought about it. What harm could it do to go for a coffee with a man who had
been so polite to her? The fact that he was absolutely gorgeous also helped. But regardless of
his beauty, Holly really craved company and he seemed like a nice, decent man to talk to.
Sharon and Denise were at work and Holly couldn't keep calling over to her mother's house,
Elizabeth had work to do too. Holly really needed to start meeting new people. Many of Gerry
and Holly's other friends had been Gerry's friends from work and from various other walks of
life, but once he had died all those “friends” of theirs hadn't been much of a familiar feature
around her house. At least she knew who her true friends were.
She was just about to say yes to Rob when he glanced down at her hand and his smile faded.
“Oh sorry, I didn't realize . . .” He backed away from her awkwardly, as if she had some kind of
disease. “I have to rush off anyway.” He smiled quickly at her and took off down the road.
Holly stared after him, confused. Had she said something wrong? Had she taken too long to
decide? Had she broken one of the silent rules of this new meeting-people game? She looked
down at the hand that had caused him to run away from her and saw her wedding ring sparkle
back at her. She sighed loudly and rubbed her face tiredly.
Just then the teenager from the shop walked by with a gang of friends and a cigarette in his
mouth and snorted at her.
She just couldn't win.
Holly slammed the door of her car and looked around. She wasn't in the mood to go home, she
was sick of staring at the walls all day every day and talking to herself. It was still only ten
o'clock in the morning and it was beautifully sunny and warm outside. Across the road her local
café, the Greasy Spoon, was setting up tables and chairs outside. Her stomach grumbled. A nice
big Irish breakfast was exactly what she needed. She took her sunglasses from the glove
compartment of her car, carried her newspapers with both hands and wandered across the road.
A plump lady was cleaning the tables. Her hair was tied back tightly in a large bun and a bright
red-and-white checked apron covered her flowery dress. Holly felt like she had walked straight
into a country kitchen.
“Been a while since these tables have seen sunlight,” she said happily to Holly as she
approached the café.
“Yeah, it's a beautiful day, isn't it?” Holly said, and the two of them stared up at the clear blue
sky. It was funny how good weather in Ireland always seemed to be the conversation of the day
with everyone. It was such a rare sight that everyone felt blessed when it finally arrived.
“You want to sit out here, love?”
“Yes I do, might as well make the most out of it, it'll probably be gone in an hour,” Holly
laughed, taking a seat.
“You need to think positively, love.” She busied herself around Holly. “Right, I'll get you the
menu,” she said, turning to leave.
“No, it's OK,” Holly called after her, “I know what I want. I'll have the Irish breakfast.”
“No problem, love.” She smiled, and her eyes widened when she saw the pile of newspapers on
the table. “You thinking of starting your own newsagents?” she chuckled.
Holly looked down at the pile and laughed at the sight of the Arab Leader lying on the top. She
had grabbed every single paper and hadn't even thought to check what they were. She doubted
very much the Arab Leader contained any articles about the documentary.
“Well, to tell you the truth, love,” the woman said, cleaning the table beside her, “you'd be
doing us all a favor if you put that miserable ol' bastard out of business.” She glared across the
road to the newsagent. Holly laughed as the woman waddled back into the café.
Holly just sat there for a while watching the world go by. She loved catching snippets of
people's conversations as they walked by; it gave her a sneaky peek into the lives of others. She
loved to guess what people did for a living, where they were headed to as they rushed by, where
they lived, if they were married or single . . . Sharon and Holly loved going for coffee in
Bewley's café overlooking Grafton Street, as it was the best place for people-spotting.
They would create little scenarios in their heads to pass the time, but Holly seemed to be doing
this very regularly these days. Just another demonstration of how her mind was caught in other
people's lives instead of focusing on her own. For example, the new story she was creating
involved the man walking down the path holding hands with his wife. Holly decided that he
was secretly gay and the man headed toward them was his lover. Holly watched their faces as
they approached each other, wondering if they would make eye contact. They went one better
than that and Holly tried not to giggle as the three of them stopped just in front of her table.
“Excuse me? Have you got the time?” the lover asked the secretly gay man and his wife.
“Yes, it's a quarter past ten,” the secretly gay man answered him, looking at his watch.
“Thanks a lot,” the lover said, touching his arm, and walked on.
Now it was as clear as day to Holly that that had been secret code for a rendezvous later. She
continued her people-spotting for a little while longer until she eventually got bored and decided
to live her own life for a change.
Holly flicked through the pages of the tabloids and came to a small article in the review section
that caught her eye.
“GIRLS AND THE CITY” A HIT IN THE RATINGS
by Tracey Coleman
For any of you unfortunate people who missed out on the outrageously funny TV documentary
“Girls and the City” last Wednesday, do not despair, because it will be back on our screens
soon.
The hilarious fly-on-the-wall documentary, directed by Irishman Declan Kennedy, follows five
Dublin girls out for a night on the town. They lift the lid on the mysterious world of celebrity
life in trendy club Boudoir and provide us with thirty minutes of stomach-aching laughter.
The show proved to be a success when first aired on Channel 4 last Wednesday, the latest TAM
ratings revealing 4 million people tuned in in the UK. The show is to be repeated again Sunday
night at 11 P.M. on Channel 4. This is must-see TV, so don't miss it!
Holly tried to keep her cool as she read through the article. It was obviously great news for
Declan but disastrous for her. Having that documentary aired once was bad enough, never mind
a second time. She really needed to have a serious talk with Declan about this. She had let him
off lightly the other night because he had been so excited and she didn't want to make a scene,
but at this stage she had enough problems on her plate without having to worry about this too.
She flicked through the rest of the papers and saw what it was Sharon was ranting about. Every
single tabloid had an article about the documentary and one had even printed a photograph of
Denise, Sharon and Holly from a few years ago. How they got their hands on it she did not
know. Thank God the broadsheets contained some real news, or Holly would have really
worried about the world. However, she wasn't too happy with the use of the words “mad girls,”
“drunken girls,” and the explanation from one of the papers of how they were “well up for it.”
What did that even mean?
Holly's food finally arrived and she stared at it in shock, wondering how on earth she was going
to get through it all. “That'll fatten you up, love,” the plump lady said, placing it on the table.
“You need a bit of meat on your bones, you're far too skinny,” she warned her, waddling off
again. Holly felt pleased at the compliment.
The plate was piled high with sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, black and white pudding,
baked beans, fried potatoes, mushrooms, tomatoes and five slices of toast. Holly looked around
her with embarrassment, hoping no one would think she was a complete pig. She saw that
annoying teenager heading toward her with his gang of friends again and she picked up her plate
and ran inside. She hadn't had much of an appetite lately, but she finally felt ready to eat, and
she wasn't going to let some stupid spotty teenager ruin it for her.
Holly must have stayed in the Greasy Spoon much longer than she thought, because by the time
she reached her parents' house in Portmarnock it was almost two o'clock. Against Holly's
prediction the weather hadn't gotten worse, and the sun was still sitting high in the cloudless
blue sky. Holly looked across at the crowded beach in front of the house, and it was difficult to
tell where the sky ended and the sea began. Busloads of people were continuously being
dropped off across the road, and there was a lovely smell of suntan lotion in the air. There were
gangs of teenagers hanging around the grassy area with CD players blaring out the latest tunes.
The sound and the smell brought back every happy memory from when Holly was a child.
Holly rang the doorbell for the fourth time and still no one answered. She knew somebody had
to be home because the bedroom windows were wide open upstairs. Her mum and dad would
never leave them wide open if they weren't home, especially with throngs of strangers
wandering around the area. She walked across the grass and pressed her face against the living
room window to see if there was any sign of life. She was just about to give up and wander over
to the beach when she heard the screaming match between Declan and Ciara.
“CIARA, GET THE DAMN DOOR!”
“NO, I SAID! I . . . AM . . . BUSY!” she yelled back.
“WELL, SO AM I!”
Holly rang the doorbell again just to add fuel to the fire.
“DECLAN!” Ouch, that was a bloodcurdling scream.
“GET IT YOURSELF, YOU LAZY COW!”
“HA! I'M LAZY?!”
Holly took out her mobile phone and rang the house.
“CIARA, ANSWER THE PHONE!”
“NO!”
“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Holly snapped loudly and hung up the phone. She dialed Declan's
mobile number.
“Yeah?”
“Declan, open the goddamn fucking door now or I'll kick it in,” Holly growled.
“Oh, sorry Holly, I thought Ciara had answered it,” he lied.
He opened the door in his boxer shorts and Holly stormed in. “Jesus Christ! I hope you two
don't carry on like that every time the doorbell rings.”
He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “Mum and Dad are out,” he said lazily and headed
up the stairs.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“Back to bed.”
“No you are not,” Holly said calmly. “You are going to sit down here with me,” she said,
patting the couch, “and we're gonna have a nice long chat about 'Girls and the City.' ”
“No,” Declan moaned. “Do we have to do this now? I'm really, really tired.” He rubbed his eyes
with his fists.
Holly had no sympathy for him. “Declan, it's two o'clock in the afternoon, how can you still be
tired?”
“Because I only got home a few hours ago,” he said cheekily, winking at her. Now she definitely
had no sympathy for him, she was just plain jealous.
“Sit!” she said, ordering him onto the couch.
He moaned again and dragged his weary body over to the couch, where he collapsed and
stretched out along the entire thing, leaving no room for Holly. She rolled her eyes and dragged
her dad's armchair closer to Declan.
“I feel like I'm with a shrink,” he laughed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at
her from the couch.
“Good, because I'm really going to pick your brains.”
Declan whinged again, “Oh Holly, do we have to? We just talked about this the other night.”
“Did you honestly think that was all I was going to say? 'Oh, I'm sorry, Declan, but I didn't like
the way you publicly humiliated me and my friends, see you next week'?”
“Obviously not.”
“Come on, Declan,” she said, softening her tone, “I just want to understand why you thought it
would be such a great idea not to tell me you were filming me and my friends.”
“You knew I was filming,” he said defensively.
“For a documentary about club life!” Holly raised her voice with frustration at her younger
brother.
“And it was about club life,” Declan laughed.
“Oh, you think you're so bloody clever,” she snapped at him, and he stopped laughing. She
counted to ten and breathed slowly to prevent herself from attacking him.
“Come on, Declan,” she said quietly. “Do you not think that I am going through enough right
now without having to worry about this as well? And without even asking me? I cannot for the
life of me understand why you would do it!”
Declan sat up on the couch and became serious for a change. “I know, Holly, I know you've
been through hell, but I thought this would cheer you up. I wasn't lying when I said I was going
to film the club because that's what I had planned on doing. But when I brought it back to
college to begin the edit, everyone thought that it was just so funny that I couldn't not show it
to people.”
“Yeah, but you put it on TV, Declan.”
“I didn't know that was the prize, honestly,” he said, wide-eyed. “Nobody knew, not even my
lecturers! How could I say no to it when I won?”
Holly gave up and ran her fingers through her hair.
“I honestly thought you would like it,” he smiled. “I even checked with Ciara and even she said
you'd like it. I'm sorry if I upset you,” he eventually mumbled.
Holly continued nodding her head through his explanation, realizing he genuinely had had good
intentions, however misguided. Suddenly she stopped. What had he just said? She sat up alert in
her seat. “Declan, did you just say that Ciara knew about the tape?”
Declan froze in his seat and tried to think of a way to back himself out of it. Coming up with
nothing, he threw himself back onto the couch and covered his head with a cushion, knowing
he had just started World War III.
“Oh Holly, don't say anything to her, she'll kill me!” came his muffled reply.
Holly bounded out of her seat and stormed upstairs, thumping her feet on every step to show
Ciara she was really mad. She yelled threats at Ciara all the way up and pounded on her
bedroom door.
“Don't come in!” yelled Ciara from inside.
“You are in so much trouble, Ciara!” Holly screamed. She opened the door and burst her way in,
putting on her most terrifying face.
“I told you not to come in!” wailed Ciara. Holly was about to start screaming all sorts of
insulting things at her sister but stopped herself when she saw Ciara sitting on the floor with
what looked like a photo album on her lap and tears streaming down her face.