The weekend has seen Christmas wash across the city, a constellation of lights that clusters tightly in our estate. We have nothing yet, not so much as a mention of the garlands and baubles that are taken down from the attic and arranged lovingly at this time every year. Mam’s so caught up in the illusion of romance she’s forgotten our shared memories and rituals and I hate him even more for taking that away from us.
As I rush past one glitzy house after another, I think about this time last year, counting down to Christmas with Tina. The ceremony of picking dresses for our pre-debs ball and planning exactly how far we’d go with the poor fellas we’d invited. But that was an illusion too, because Tina was only pretending everything was normal. Or maybe I was just refusing to see that it wasn’t.
When I get to the gate, the house looks like an advent calendar, half its windows glowing with the promise of warmth inside. In the living room, a spruce fir beams incandescent while, above it, her bedroom is a pool of darkness. I tread carefully down the drive and press the doorbell.
The door swings open, behind it a nonchalant boy in 501s and a white T-shirt, his skin still soft and unblemished. And those ice-blue eyes—it has to be Ronan.
“Is Shauna here?” I ask.
He regards me with leering curiosity, a power game that seems too old for his years.
“Just a minute,” he says and pushes the door closed, leaving me out in the cold.
Shauna opens the door slowly with an awkward smile. She seems younger, more relaxed in a baggy sweatshirt and leggings, her hair loose around her face.
“Lou,” she says, almost meekly, “come in.”
Ronan stays in the hall as we pass through, arms folded in an adversarial stance, and Shauna throws him a withering look.
“What was that all about?” I ask when we get to Shauna’s room.
She grimaces. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but he saw us together that first night, when we kissed goodbye at the gate. He’s been blackmailing me to buy booze for him ever since.”
“Oh shit.” I wonder if that’s why she was so elusive after our first kiss, why it took us so long to find our way.
“I denied it, of course, and it’s not like he’d ever say anything, I mean, he wouldn’t want people to know about it anyway. But it’s just easier to do what he wants than listen to him go on about it all the time.”
“Little fucker.”
“He is. He’s a little shit with no life experience of his own who thinks he knows it all. God help any girl who ends up with him.”
I laugh and then we’re just standing inside the door, unsure of what to do next. She leans in to embrace me, all roses and jasmine, and we hug tentatively, her hands on the elbows of my coat and my fingers uncertain if they should be touching her hips. And then her face is buried in my neck, her breath hot in my ear, and I turn to find her lips and we’re kissing as if nobody’s watching. She pulls away to close the curtains and flicks on the lamp on her bedside locker while I take off my coat. I hang it over the back of her desk chair, and she slips her hands around my waist from behind. She kisses my neck, biting softly and then harder, sending electrical shivers through me, and it would be so easy to melt into her, forget about everything else.
I prize her hands apart and turn around and her eyes harden with confusion.
“I want this,” I say, taking her hands in mine, “I really, really do. But I need to talk to you first.”
She bites her lip and nods slowly, as if she’s anticipated this conversation.
“It’s about Mr. McQueen,” I say.
“OK, go on,” she says, and I smile with relief.
We sit on the edge of her double bed, and I tell her about McQueen and Sister Shannon and, this time, she listens with empathy, squeezing my thigh and running her fingers along my black leggings. It’s only when I explain who Joe is that she withdraws her hand and her approval.
“So, you … set me up?”
“No, of course not. Joe didn’t ask for you, McQueen offered. But you don’t need to worry about Joe, he’s on our side.”
She frowns and I’m afraid I’ve used the wrong words or made the wrong assumptions.
“Have you seen the article?” she asks. “What does it say about me?”
“It says that you seemed afraid of him. Not just you, some of the other girls too.”
Shauna sighs and shakes her head.
“Why can’t everyone just leave us alone?”
“Because it’s not right.”
I put my hands on hers and I’m grateful when she doesn’t flinch.
“Shauna, it kills me to think of what he’s doing to you. I’d do anything to make it stop.”
She stares at me intensely and I know it’s true. I’d do anything for her.
“How would you stop him?” she asks.
I think about the plan I made with Melissa, how we could pull it off together.
“What if I was to walk in on the two of you? Would that scare him off?”
Shauna winces at the thought and then shakes her head.
“Honestly,” she says, “I don’t think he cares what you think.”
“Wouldn’t he be afraid I might tell someone?” I ask.
“Who’d believe you if you did?”
I know she’s right; I’ve blown through all those options already.
“If I took a photo,” I say, “d’ye think that’d be enough to keep him away from you?”
Shauna bites her lip as she considers this, as if the idea scares her as much as it gives her hope.
“He couldn’t know I had anything to do with it. You’d have to make out like it was just you getting revenge on him, maybe on me too. We wouldn’t even be able to be friends in school anymore.”
I grimace but I know she’s right.
“It would be worth it. As long as we can still do this.” I wave my finger between us. “Whatever this is.”
Shauna puts her hand back on my thigh and I lean in to kiss her.
“Deal,” she whispers.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, pulling back, and she groans, my honesty just cramping her style now.
I start to tell her about Mam and McQueen and she doesn’t move or say a word. She stares at me deadpan, enduring the whole story from beginning to end.
“What night did she stay with him?” she says.
“Last Friday. Why?”
She sucks on her bottom lip and I’m not sure if she’s going to laugh or cry.
“Was he…” I say, unsure of how to finish the question, “… with you on Friday?”
She nods.
“He even told me he loved me before he left. Not that it means anything to me anymore.”
“Did it ever?”
She looks at the ceiling and releases a long, slow breath.
“I used to think it was important for him to love me, to see me as special. I needed that, for him to think I was better than everyone else. I thought it mattered.”
“Did you ever love him?”
There’s such sadness in her eyes I can’t bear it.
“I think I always hated him.”
She turns away and takes her hand from my leg. I’m not sure if I’ve lost her but I’ve come too far to give in without a fight.
“Shauna, I’m really sorry,” I say. “I hate him too. I wanted to kill him when I saw him with Mam, so I can’t imagine…”
“What the fuck is your mum doing with him anyway?”
“He’s nice to her. Most men aren’t.”
“Fuck men,” she says.
“Not literally.”
“No, not literally, just fuck them.”
Her eyes are wide now, daring me to make the next move. I lean into her and she holds up a finger.
“I’m just checking you don’t have anything else to get off your chest first.”
“No.” I laugh.
She swings her legs onto the bed and lies back. I climb onto her, straddling her waist as I pin her hands behind her head.
“Is this OK?”
“Yeah.”
I bend down and kiss her, my body pushing into hers.
“And this?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want you to feel…”
“What?” she asks.
“I dunno … uncomfortable.”
“Jesus, Lou,” she says. “You’re not him, OK? I can tell the difference.”
I laugh nervously.
“I hope so.”
“I want you to touch me.”
I smile as I slide down her body, lift her sweatshirt and move my mouth across the flat of her stomach. She gasps and it shudders through me, as if we share the same nerve endings. I’ve no idea what I’m doing but it feels as natural as breathing. I’m kneeling over her, my fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings, when I hear the rattle of the door handle and I jump backward away from her. Shauna shoots upright, pulls her sweatshirt down and tucks her feet under her.
A tall, thin woman in tight jeans and heels slinks into the room and surveys me with a smile. She’s not at all what I expected Shauna’s mother to look like, hair slicked back, red lipstick like one of the models in a Robert Palmer video.
“I thought I’d better introduce myself,” she says, “seeing as Shauna didn’t do it for me.”
She raises an eyebrow at her daughter, who ignores the gesture completely.
“I’m Olivia,” she says, holding out her hand. “Shauna’s mum.”
“Hi,” I say as I shake her hand, my heart still clattering in my chest.
“And you are?” she says.
“Oh, sorry, I’m Lou. I’m in school with Shauna.”
“Really?” she says. “At Highfield?”
“Lou’s new,” says Shauna. “Well, since September.”
“Uh-huh,” says Olivia. “And how are you finding Highfield?”
“I love it,” I say.
“That’s cos she’s good at everything,” says Shauna.
“I’m glad to hear it,” says Olivia. “Shauna, dinner is takeaway. I’ve left some money on the hall table.”
“Can Lou stay?”
“Of course. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“I’m going out with Lucinda,” says Olivia as she leaves. “I’ll be at the Guinea Pig if you need me.”
WE SHARE A BAG OF chipper chips and sneak past the Guinea Pig as we head to Finnegan’s at the end of the village.
“Looks fancy in there,” I say.
“Oh, she won’t be eating. She only consumes black tea and gin.”
“Oh,” I say.
“So she can’t complain if we spend the rest of her money on booze.”
Shauna puts her arm around me, and I reciprocate.
“Don’t you love being a girl?” she says. “Nobody suspects a thing.”
She leans in and kisses me on the cheek.
It’s still early and we find a quiet corner in Finnegan’s, a spot hidden by a wooden panel from the rest of the pub.
“What are you going to have?” I ask.
“I might have a vodka and tonic.”
“Ugh,” I say. “I can’t drink vodka anymore. It’s what Mam has at home.”
“I feel the same way about gin.”
“How about Pernod and black to start us off?”
“Why not?” says Shauna, and hands me a five-pound note.
When I return with the sickly purple liquid there are two older guys in leather jackets sitting opposite Shauna. They have a local swagger about them, like they know the lay of the land and they’ve spied the new blood in the house.
“How’s it going?” says the one with the bleached hair. He’d have a look of Larry Mullen if it wasn’t for his terminal acne.
“All right,” I say, trying not to engage as I push in beside Shauna.
“You’re not from round here, are ye?” says the other, a big thick head of hair on him.
“We’re from London,” says Shauna in a fierce posh accent.
“Camden Town,” I say in my best mockney.
I hand Shauna her drink and we clink glasses and knock them back in one. She gags and sticks a purple tongue out at me.
“My brother’s over there,” says Larry. “In Kilburn.”
“Sorry, we don’t know him,” I say, and Shauna laughs.
“Can we buy you ladies a drink?” asks the other one.
“What do you think, Louise?” asks Shauna.
“I think not, Shauna,” I say. “Sorry, boys, it’s not your lucky night.”
The legs of their chairs scrape slowly across the floor as they stand up.
“Fuckin’ dykes,” says Larry as they leave.
“What gave us away?” I shout, and Shauna can’t help giggling as she shushes me.
BY THE TIME WE GET back to Shauna’s, we’re heavy with drink, stepping slowly and deliberately through the house. Shauna goes downstairs to get a bottle of wine and I carry on up to her room. As I close the door behind me, I see Ronan across the landing, sizing me up with a critical eye. He can think what he likes; I’m not going to let him come between us. I flop onto Shauna’s bed, relieved I don’t have to get up in the morning. It’s the eighth of December, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and schools are closed. There is a procession and Mass at Highfield in the evening, but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.
“D’you’ve swimming tomorrow?” I ask Shauna when she gets back with an open bottle of white and two glasses.
“Yep.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Both.”
“Shit,” I say. “So you’re not going to the procession?”
“Nope.”
I push myself up onto my elbows and take the glass of wine from her as she sits down beside me.
“Don’t you know there’s one thing at Highfield that trumps Holy Mary and Jesus Christ himself?” she says.
“Fucking swimming.”
“Shh,” she says as she puts her finger to her lips. “No blasphemy, please.”
“Sorry. I’ll say no more.”
She rests her arm across my tummy and runs her fingers up and down my hip.
“Will you stay?” she says.
“Yeah.”
We finish our wine, only the jagged rise and fall of our breaths breaking the silence. As I undress, she puts on Sade’s Diamond Life and I sway to the opening sax riff of “Smooth Operator.”
“You’re so pretty,” she says.
“No, I’m not.”
“How can you not know that?”
“Because I don’t have blonde hair and big tits and blue eyes and tanned skin.”
“You say that like they’re bad things.”
“Oh god, they’re really fucking not.” I laugh. “They’re all great things, believe me.”
I take off my T-shirt and stand in front of her in my bra and underpants.
“Don’t move,” she says, and pulls out a Polaroid camera from her bedside locker. “Say cheese.”
I put my hands behind my head and strike a pose as the flash lights up the room.
“Your turn,” I say, taking the camera from her.
She lifts her sweatshirt over her head and she’s only wearing a black lace bra underneath.
“You could’ve told me,” I say. “All evening and I didn’t know.”
“I thought you noticed when you were kissing my tummy earlier.”
“Well, I was preoccupied then.”
I look through the viewfinder as Shauna slides her bra straps down over her shoulders and then folds her arms across her tummy. Her hair frames the photo, falling from her bare shoulders onto her breasts, and I take it all in for a breathless moment before I click. The photo glides out of the camera and I shake it dry.
“I want one of both of us,” I say.
“OK, but you have to promise not to show it to anyone.”
“Cross my heart,” I say, running a finger each way across my breast.
She leans her head against mine as I hold the camera out in front of us and I turn to kiss her lips as I snap.
“Let’s see,” she says as she sits on the bed and takes off her leggings.
“It’s perfect.”
She’s perfect, her soft, full lips on mine and that unmistakable white-blonde hair across her face. I sit beside her, our bare arms and legs brushing off each other.
“What now?” she says.
“I dunno, I’ve never done this before.”
“Oh, good,” she says.
“Why? Have you?”
“No.”
“So we’ll just have to feel our way around it,” I say.
“Yeah, I think we should.”
I run my fingers along the inside of her thigh and she moans gently.
“Like this?” I say.
“Yes, definitely.”
I move my hand across her tummy and on to the cup of her bra.
“Take it off,” I say.
She unclips the back and slides the straps down her arms without taking her eyes off me. I take off my own and then kneel before her and slowly pull her lace underpants down over her hips, her knees, her feet. She opens her legs and I slide my hand between them, and then we’re kissing hard, biting and sucking on lips and skin, pushing into each other as if we’ve always known exactly what to do, and it’s all so easy and so fucking good, and when she goes down on me, I have to bite the inside of my lip to silence my cries when I come harder than I ever have before.
Afterward, we can’t stop kissing, as if detaching from each other would break the spell. We lie entwined until Sade stops singing, and the stop button clicks us out of our reverie.
“That’s never happened to me before,” says Shauna. “I mean, with someone else.”
“Me neither.”
“We should definitely do it again.”
She runs her nails down my back, onto my bum.
“Now?”
“No.” Shauna laughs. “I mean, I wish, but I have to get up in…” She leans across me to look at her alarm clock. “Oh god, five hours.”
“Boo.”
“Come round tomorrow, after Mass. I can meet you after swimming.”
“Yes, please,” I say and, when we kiss, I can’t think of a single thing in the world that could possibly stop us.