Jumping in Puddles Page 18

  And to her shame, that made Niamh feel slightly better about herself.

  This evening was making Ruth feel uncomfortable – very uncomfortable. Here were two of these women spilling their innermost secrets and she was sitting here, holding hers close to her. She felt as if she should be standing up for the sisterhood and revealing that she was a victim, but then battery wasn’t something casually slipped into conversation. “So anyway, did you see Corrie last night? I’m a battered wife,” or “Yes, yes, the weather’s awful these days. And my husband used to knock me down the stairs. Once he broke my arm and we told everyone I’d slipped in the shower.”

  You couldn’t even slip it in comfortably with “Yes, I know your husband is a cheating bastard” or “God, that Ben Quinn is a wee fecker” and then add the awful truth. You couldn’t tell people that your husband beat seven shades of shit out of you and while you’re here – dressed up as the Wicked Witch of the West – he is off taking care of your children – and you don’t seem to mind.

  They would think she was mad. The looniest of the Loonies. And, when she put it like that in her own head, then they were probably right. So Ruth sat there nodding and smiling at all the appropriate moments but feeling as if her heart could thud right out of her chest. She wondered could they hear it, and if not then why not? It was deafening in her ears. She pulled her green wig off and sipped from her glass. The shock at Niamh’s revelation was starting to subside and the chat was now more light-hearted and from what Ruth could gather largely involved what evil revenge they could take on the ex best friend. Or Ben Quinn. Or better still, the two of them together.

  “Ooh, we could be a crack commando unit like in the A- Team,” Niamh said with a smile. “Taking them out one useless fecker at a time.”

  Ruth knew who she would like taken out and she wondered would there be some way to have him taken out without telling the others just why.

  “The mini-bus is primed and ready for action,” Detta replied.

  “Youse really are loonies,” Ciara chimed in.

  “Aye, not bad for old fogies,” Ruth said, forcing a smile onto her face. She knew that if she stayed quiet too long they would guess something was up.

  “I imagine it’s just because we’re that bit older that we just don’t give a flying damn,” Detta said as Ruth stood up and emptied the rest of her wine down the sink.

  “I don’t know about you lot, but I could do with something to eat,” Ruth said. I’ve some cocktail sausages downstairs. I’ll nip down and put them on. Poor Liam will think we are conspiring against him if we all stay up here much longer.”

  Ciara stood up next and splashed some cold water on her face, while Ruth took a deep breath and walked down to her kitchen.

  “I thought youse had all fallen down the loo,” Liam said with a grin as she walked back in. On the floor beside him were three empty beer bottles and his face had a cheery glow. He obviously hadn’t been one bit bothered by the lack of company.

  “By the looks of it, you didn’t miss us,” she said, glancing at the bottles on the floor.

  “Oh shit,” Liam said, blushing furiously, “I was okay to drink the beer, wasn’t I?”

  “Of course you were,” Ruth said. “I’m just glad you didn’t miss us too much. I’m going to put some food on – would you like some?”

  “I never say no to beer or food,” he replied. “But here, why don’t you let me help you? You’ve been running around like a mad thing after us all night. You must be wrecked.”

  “Sure I’m used to running around after three wains all the time. You lot are no bother at all in comparison.”

  “I wonder how they are all getting on,” Liam said.

  Ruth felt her heart quicken again. Of course, she knew that Liam was only really interested in how Laura was getting on but she was terrified too of where this conversation could go, given her current frame of mind.

  “I’m sure we would have heard if anything had gone drastically wrong anyway,” Liam said.

  With the same fake sincerity Ruth replied: “No news is good news as far as my lot are concerned.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. It was strange to realise she felt nervous as they both stood there. She wasn’t used to having a man so close to her. She didn’t fancy Liam – not that he wasn’t ruggedly handsome in his own way. She thought it highly unlikely that she would ever fancy any man ever again – apart from maybe Harrison Ford or Hugh Laurie. But still, having a man in this room with her made her feel nervy. She busied herself taking the sausages from the freezer and setting them out on a baking tray. Switching the oven on, she fished some garlic bread out of the fridge and then tipped some tortilla chips into a bowl.

  “We’ll not be fit to move if we eat all this,” Liam said with a smile, “but at the same time those beers have gone straight to my head. Hopefully this will sober me up. Are you sure you don’t mind Poppy staying over?”

  “I’m sure she’s no bother,” Ruth said, putting dip into bowls – anything to stop her from thinking too much about everything in her life.

  “No, she’s a good girl. I suppose that’s what makes it harder,” Liam said despondently.

  “What harder?” Ruth asked absently.

  “You know, her mum going like that. Laura was always a good wife and mother – but she’s suddenly happy with a night or two with our daughter a week. I never thought she would have been able to leave her, leave us, like that. It’s like she’s a different woman.”

  Ruth shivered. She wondered just how much her husband and his controlling ways were responsible for the change in Laura. But yet when she had seen them together – the one time she had seen them together – they looked happier than she had ever felt with James. She nodded sympathetically. “I just wish we knew what was going on in their heads,” she said, thinking that sounded very much like something she should be saying. She felt a little guilty of course for not digging deeper, but she was, she admitted to herself, a big fat chicken with no desire to discuss this further.

  “Here, let me help you get the food out,” Liam said, reaching for the oven door and Ruth felt a gush of warm air as he opened it.

  She felt a little faint, so sat down and fanned herself – hoping that he wouldn’t notice. No such luck.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Too much wine,” she replied.

  “You’ve barely had a couple of glasses.”

  “Cheap date,” she said with a smile and then panicked. Would he think she was flirting? Please, God, no. She couldn’t handle that. It would all get very messy and embarrassing when she had to explain why her heart belonged to Harrison or Hugh and no one else.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water,” he said, walking to the sink.

  She took the water from him and took a few sips. She was that hot and bothered she thought about pouring it over her head to cool herself down – but then she really would look like a madwoman.

  “Has anyone told you about the Loonies?” she asked.

  * * *

  As far as weird nights went, this was one of the weirdest, thought Liam. He was sitting in a strange woman’s kitchen while his daughter slept upstairs. Meanwhile his wife was shacked up with this strange woman’s husband and the pair of them were taking care of her children. Three other women were laughing like hyenas in the living room and breaking into frequent renditions of the A-Team theme while this particular strange woman looked like she might faint at any moment.

  She had explained to him what had just been revealed in the bathroom – and how Niamh and Seán’s marriage had not been the happy dream everyone thought it was.

  She was now slowly explaining to him how they had decided they were all slightly disturbed in the head and that they might as well live up to their name and go on a rampage against those who had wronged them. She was joking, he thought. Or, at least, he hoped she was joking. He never quite knew where to place himself with Ruth Byrne. They had certain shared interests, of course. They had both
been wronged in exactly the same way and both of them were left holding the babies. He figured, out of all the women at the Lone Parents Group, she should have been the one he connected with most of all, and yet there was something closed off about Ruth that he couldn’t get past.

  And he wasn’t one to try. Laura had often completely lost the rag with him when he clammed up each time she wanted a nice chat.

  “Let’s turn the telly off,” she would say, curling up beside him.

  He would of course think his luck was in and would have to fight with the growing erection in his trousers at the thought of some quiet time with his wife.

  The erection would however fade as soon as she followed that suggestion with: “Why don’t we just have a nice chat?”

  “What about?” he would ask, hiding the frustration from his voice.

  “I don’t know. Just a chat. We rarely get time to chat any more. Remember when we were first going out and we would sit up all night just talking?”

  Of course Liam remembered those nights, but to his recollection there was a lot more going on than “just talking”. But he knew to make such a suggestion when Laura was in talking mode would end in disaster. She would storm off saying he was a typical man while he seethed on the sofa that she was a typical woman.

  So he would sit and say “Okay then,” and she would gaze at him expecting him to start some life-altering chat about the state of their marriage, the town, the universe, anything.

  “Poppy’s a star, isn’t she?” he would offer and they would have their one safe chat, the one thing they agreed on: how wonderful their daughter was. Liam often wondered what they used to talk about before Poppy, but as they laughed and joked about their daughter’s latest misadventures he put any concerns about their marriage to the back of his head. They couldn’t be unhappy if they were laughing like this, could they?

  So now, he sat nodding as Ruth spoke and laughing at the appropriate moments. At least now the renditions of the A- Team made sense.

  As the cooker pinged, he tipped the sausages onto a plate and carried them through to the living room.

  “Would you Loonies like some tomato sauce with these?” he asked with a smile as they descended on the food as if they hadn’t eaten in a week.

  “I take it Ruth has filled you in on our dastardly plans?” Detta asked with a smile.

  “Oh yes, I’m practising my Mr T impressions as we speak,” Liam said.

  “You know it would be some craic if we could take on the world one bad shite at a time,” Detta said, sitting back.

  “I’d be happy enough to sort out our own problems,” Niamh replied, sitting down.

  “Well, I don’t see why we can’t,” Liam replied. “What is it we all want most in the world? Can we not support each other to get through this?”

  “Any of you good at resurrections then? Because I would love Seán back just so I could cut his cheating nuts off,” Niamh said.

  “And I’d like Ben Quinn and everyone else to know I’m not the village tart,” Ciara added.

  “I’d like you all to be happy,” Detta said magnanimously from her chair while Ruth said she would just like her children to be content.

  What would Liam want most in the whole wide world? Well, he didn’t have to think about that at all. “I just wish Laura still loved me,” he said, sitting down. “Or failing that, and forgive me for saying this, Ruth, I’d just like to batter seven shades of shit out of your husband.”

  “Amen to that,” Ruth replied with vigour.

  “Well, let’s do it then,” Ciara said.

  Liam was shocked. “What? Seriously? Kick seven shades of shite out of James?”

  Ciara laughed. “No, but do what we want. Get what we want. We deserve to be happy. None of us are bad people. None of us have done anything wrong to anyone in our lives so how come we are sat here like the black sheep of the village? I think we need to take control.”

  Liam was impressed. Ciara was only seventeen and yet she was kicking the arse of the entire group as she spoke. She had a wise head on her shoulders. He couldn’t imagine Poppy being like that in just seven years’ time, but then hopefully she wouldn’t have a baby to deal with. Christ, when Liam thought about it, he could be granda in a couple of years. That was too scary a thought to consider – not now when he had still been hoping that he could have another child of his own. But he couldn’t deny it. He admired Ciara greatly for her guts. He would have stood up and applauded her if this night hadn’t been surreal enough already. He was pretty sure when he woke up tomorrow he would wonder if they had really agreed to do whatever they could to help each other when just a few weeks ago they had been virtual strangers.

  “Feck it,” he found himself saying. “In for a penny, in for a pound. Why not? Why not work together to get what we want?”

  “As long as we are realistic about what we want and what we can achieve,” Detta sounded a warning note. “Sorry to be a party pooper but we need to really think what we are after because, clichéd as it sounds, you really do have to be careful what you wish for.”

  They talked for another while, formulating plans, discussing dreams before Liam had felt his eyes start to droop. It was now almost one o’clock and he knew he would want to be awake again as early as possible so that Ruth wasn’t left with all the kids to look after.

  “I’d better make a move,” he said reluctantly – reluctantly because, let’s face it, staying where he was enjoying the company was a better option than going home to an empty house, but he had to be sensible.

  “Right then,” Detta said. “Well, I’d better move then too, if you are to walk me home.”

  They stood up and said goodbye to the group. Liam did wonder for a moment should he hug them – it just felt like a night where hugging might be appropriate. He decided however that was a step too far for his gruff Donegal exterior and instead he nodded his goodbyes and walked out into the cold air, holding the door open for Detta as he went.

  The streets of Rathinch were deserted, but then they always were at this time. It was hardly a hotspot of pubbing and clubbing. On the average night everyone would be tucked up and in bed by eleven – with the stragglers only managing to make it past one. In many ways Rathinch was the Sleepy Hollow of Donegal, but without the headless horseman.

  “That was a strange night,” Detta said as they walked along the Main Street.

  “Good strange, though?” he asked.

  “I think so,” she replied, digging her hands into her pockets.

  Liam had to admit it had got cold and he wondered what the corrected etiquette was. With Laura it would have been simple. He would have offered her his scarf or his coat or put his arm around her to generate some body heat, but he wasn’t sure any of that would be appropriate.

  “Are you okay?” he offered. “I’ve a scarf here you can have.” He hoped she wouldn’t read it as a sign that he wanted to jump her bones but she shrugged.

  “I’ll be grand once I’m walking a bit,” she said. “It’s the tiredness that has me shivering more than anything.”

  “I know, I can’t believe how late it is.”

  “At least I don’t have a wee one to get up with in the morning,” she said, with a half smile.

  “Did you never want a family yourself?” Liam asked, recalling the conversation they’d had in the Country Kitchen.

  “Yes, well, yes,” she replied. “It’s not much further now. I’m only down here and round the corner. I can walk on if you want and you can head on home. I know you have to pick Poppy up right and early.”

  Liam knew he was a man and as such not known for his intuition and empathy but he was sensitive enough to know that Detta clearly didn’t want to talk about her family life any more and he wasn’t about to push her.

  “I’ll see you to your door,” he said. “It’s only good manners. And, besides, if I’m to become a feckwit fighting Action Man I could do with a little more exercise.”

  “You’re just fine the w
ay you are, Liam,” Detta replied, linking her arm in his. “And I don’t think we really are going to become the village vigilantes but maybe we are all a little more focussed on getting what we want.”

  * * *

  Liam let himself into his house and climbed the stairs. He didn’t have to put his head into Poppy’s room to wish her sweet dreams and he didn’t have to share the minutiae of his day with Laura. He was alone with his thoughts and he sat down on the side of the bed and peeled off his socks. Detta had said they should be careful what they wished for and that, along with everything else that night, made him wonder if he was wishing for the right things.

  If Laura walked back in now, what would he do? If she fell to her knees and begged his forgiveness, would he offer it? He always, until tonight, thought that he would. But then his wish wasn’t to have Laura back. No, it was to have her love him again – the way she had done when they first got together. He wasn’t sure that was possible and, he realised with a start, he wasn’t sure he wanted it anyway.

  She had hurt him, and their daughter deeply and no amount of love could erase the last few months. It didn’t matter that she still saw Poppy several times a week. It didn’t matter that most of the time she was civil, and dare he say it, nice to her. The hurt was there, and that was for sure. Completely confused and utterly wrecked, he lay down and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  28

  Ciara curled up in the bed and pulled Ella towards her. Her daughter was sleeping soundly – her curls damp with sweat, her dummy going nineteen to the dozen with whatever little dream was going through her head. Staring around the room – that of a girl just a year younger than her – Ciara felt as if she was in some sort of weird alternate universe. There, amid the posters for Girls Aloud and Rhianna were pictures of teenagers laughing together, huddled in groups. The trained eye could spot the bottles of WKD and tins of cider on the ground beside them. They wore clothes that were too tight and too short. They were exactly the kind of clothes that Ciara would wear if she could get away with it, she thought enviously, breathing in and putting a hand to her now flabby tummy.