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The cock’s crow woke me up. I blinked and looked around, but Colin was gone, along with his clothes. Jake lay yawning at my feet, and I thought for a second I’d dreamt it all. I stretched. What a dream. Colin and me—how crazy was that? Then I saw the cup of tea on the bedside table, with a rose placed beside it. The tea was still warm. He must have just left. I smiled. Typical. Tea and a rose but no note or even a text message. No promises, no declaration of love, no ‘it was wonderful’: just tea and a rose.
I drank the tea, smelt the rose, my mind lingering on the night before. It had come as no surprise that Colin was an amazing lover. But then he stepped out of the mould and shared some painful memories, things I’d never read about him or seen mentioned in interviews. And I’d revealed the uglier side of my own childhood. There was a bond between us—two Dubliners in an alien environment. Alien, because country life was so completely different from city living but also a cultural difference and that rough edge we acquired as children, growing up in the poorer part of a big city.
Colin now lived in LA, which had to be even more alien. Had it changed him? Had it made him cynical and hard? Was our night together just a brief fling? How did I feel about it? I asked myself. Did I want to get into something more permanent with Colin Foley? I laughed out loud. As if that was going to happen. He was just having fun. The sex had been outstanding and helped me out of the blue funk I was in. A lovely moment, that was all, leaving a lingering memory of something sweet. And so it should stay. Any thoughts of it being anything serious was ridiculous. I wasn’t his type, and that was the understatement of the year.
“Stop dreaming, girl,” I said to myself as I climbed out of bed. Jake jumped up and licked my face. I scooped him into my arms. He was the only male I could count on. It was time to get up, get dressed and get into gear.
***
The office was heaving with activity. Audrey and Dan were arguing about the photos he’d taken the day before, Audrey suggesting there should have been more close-ups of the main stars and not so many of the extras.
“What can I do when they beg me to take their pictures?” Dan demanded. “And the director isn’t very cooperative when I want to take shots of the actors. Especially close-ups. ‘we’ll supply stills’ he said.”
“Stills,” Audrey jeered. “How boring. We need candid shots of them being made up or getting into costume. Get that Caroline in curlers or something and Colin eating baked beans out of a tin. I’ve seen him do it when the catering staff were late with lunch.” She tapped the photos laid out on the big table in the main office. “Some of these are fine, but we need more zip here, more candid-camera type of thing. It’s all very well to print photos of the extras so they can show their mammies, but this is going out internationally. We need an edge, Dan.”
“Yeah, right,” he muttered.
Audrey sighed. “The elastic of your underpants works harder than you do.”
Dan bristled. “Are you implying I’m fat?”
“No, honey,” Audrey drawled. “I’m saying you’re lazy.”
I burst out laughing. “Gee, Audrey, you sure don’t take any prisoners.”
Audrey looked up. “I know, but this is important. Hi, Finola. How was your weekend break?”
“Lovely,” I replied.
“Call for you,” Sinead announced from the switchboard. “Rory Quirke.”
I froze. “Tell him I’m not in.”
“Um, I just told him you were here,” Sinead replied.
I sighed. “I’ll take it in my office.”
“Hi,” Rory said when I picked up. “How was the trip?”
“Great. Lovely part of Ireland.”
“Yes.” He paused. “So, did you find Johnny?”
“I did.” I sank down on my chair.
“And? Did he tell you anything?”
“About what?” I said, trying to keep the dislike out of my voice.
“You know. Did he say anything about why he left or what happened before that?”
“Yes. But nothing you or I didn’t know before. His son was continuously bullied and beaten up by a gang of youths. So they decided to go and live somewhere else. Can’t say I blame them.” I stood up and paced around my office. “I have to say it’s pretty disgusting that this kind of thing goes on in Ireland in this day and age. I know this might be more blatant in this kind of area because of ignorance and a lack of sophistication. People around here live very narrow little lives and have narrow little minds. I found that in Ahakista, although it’s so remote, people are a lot more tolerant and Christian than in this bigoted little bog town. Probably because there are so many foreigners and artists living there. In this town, people haven’t moved for five hundred years. Who the fuck do they think they are?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“People living in small-town Ireland,” I raged. “People who think less of others because they have darker skin and come from other countries. People who stand at church gates and collect money for Neo-Nazi parties before going inside to say prayers and give each other the sign of peace. How can they possibly live with themselves?”
Rory was silent for a long time, breathing heavily. “Who do you mean?” he whispered. “Me?”
“If the shoe fits.” I slammed down the receiver. Then I kicked myself for letting rip like that. Maybe I should have been more diplomatic and not told him what I knew. But I lost it when I heard his voice and remembered what Johnny had said.
The phone rang again. I picked up on the first ring. “Rory, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s not Rory. It’s Aidan. Can I talk to you? You said I could call you—”
“Of course. Do you want to come to the office?”
“No, I can’t right now. I have a maths class. But maybe you could come to my house at tea time? I’ll be home around five.”
“That’ll be fine. I’ll see you then, Aidan.”
“Great. And...”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell anyone I called you.”
***
Half an hour later, Rory burst into my office, his face red, his nostrils flaring. “What the hell did you mean by that?” he shouted.
I looked up from the computer screen. “Stop shouting. I think we need to talk.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Sit down, please. I’m not going to talk to someone who looks like he’s going to hit me.”
Rory took a deep breath. “Right now, that’s an option I’m seriously considering.”
I picked up the phone. “Sinead. Call the Guards. I’m being threatened.”
“Jesus!” Sinead breathed at the other end. “I thought he looked kind of weird.”
Rory tore the receiver out of my hand. “Sinead, it’s okay. I’m not going to hit anyone. We don’t need the Guards.”
“Sure?” I said.
“I swear.”
“Cup of tea?” Sinead wheezed at her end.
“Perfect,” I said and hung up.
Rory sat down, fished a crumpled hanky out of his pocket and wiped his face.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he muttered.
Sinead arrived with two mugs of tea and a packet of chocolate digestives on a tray, glancing nervously at Rory.
“You’re an angel, Sinead,” I said. “Nothing like a cup of tea to soothe the angry beasts.”
She nodded. “It’s Barry’s tea too.”
“Fabulous. It’s okay. You can go back to the switchboard,” I said, as Sinead hovered by the door. “I’ll scream if he tries anything.”
“I’ll leave the door open,” Sinead said and wobbled out of the room.
Rory folded his arms, glaring at me. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “How about you explaining to me about collecting money for that party outside the church gate? And you know what party I mean.”
Rory looked confused. “I never—” Then he stopped. “Oooh. Oookay...I know what you’re talking about. That was an accident.”
“An accident? Like you were hypnotised and forced to do it against your will? Pull the other one.”
Rory made a pleading gesture. “Stop the sarcasm for a second and listen.”
I grabbed one of the mugs and a biscuit and leaned back in my chair. “I’m all ears. This should be interesting.”
Rory looked at his hands clasped around his mug of tea. “Okay. So this is what happened—it was my mother who was standing at the church gate, collecting for that party. She’s a huge supporter of their politics. I’m not, and that’s the truth. I hate what they stand for, hate that my mother supports them. We argue about that all the time. But that day, when I arrived at the church, my mother was suddenly taken ill. Someone helped her into the church, and I called an ambulance. While I waited, I stood beside the bucket with the money. I didn’t really pay attention to it or the collection because I was worried about my mother. Then, the ambulance arrived, and I got into my car and followed. She was taken to hospital and treated for a minor heart attack. That was just after Christmas. I’d forgotten about the collection until you mentioned it.”
“Oh. I see.” I drank my tea and nibbled the biscuit. “You have a problem with your mother, my friend.”
Rory sighed. “Yes. I do.”
“She has a hold on you because of the farm.”
“Big time.” Rory sighed and looked up at me, his eyes full of pain. “I do love her in a way. And I understand how she feels about the farm and why she doesn’t want to give it up. But I hate her political views. I think, though, she doesn’t understand the implications. She thinks it’s about the economy and about land. She just doesn’t get the whole racist thing.”
“Someone should enlighten her.”
“Be my guest. Then you’ll find out what it’s actually like to talk to a wall.” Rory’s shoulders slumped even further.
I felt a pang of pity for this intelligent, attractive man, who, through no fault of his own, was so downtrodden by his mother. It was a huge dilemma. If he left the farm that was part of his very being, his life, his hopes, his very soul—he’d have been even more miserable. And that horrible woman knew it and used it. A Catch 22 situation. There had to be some solution, but no matter how I turned and twisted it, I couldn’t find one.
“The wildlife sanctuary isn’t going to happen either,” Rory muttered and got up. “I have to go. Must check on the cattle and take care of a delivery.”
I nodded, still deep in thought. The wildlife sanctuary...then I had a light-bulb moment. “Hey, Rory. Don’t give up on that. I think I can help you.”
“Yeah right,” he scoffed. “So you think you can twist her arm?”
“No, but I think I...we...can shame her into it.”
Rory stopped on the way to the door. “How?”
I smiled wickedly. “It’s sneaky, but I know it’ll work. This is what we’re going to do...” I explained my idea to him in only a few words.
Rory’s face brightened as he listened.
“Finola,” he said, looking awestruck. “You’re a sneaky bitch.”
***
I penned a short article which I emailed to Audrey with a note, explaining what I wanted. There was just enough space to put this item on the front page of the Thursday edition if we moved the pony club competition and the charity walk to the second page. The pony-club mums would be ticked off, but it was a sacrifice that justified the end. Job done, I set off to my meeting with Aidan.
He was waiting for me in the unkempt garden, where he was gobbling up a mountain of sandwiches Miranda had just put in front of him. He looked up as I waded through the grass. I joined him and sat down on a rickety deckchair.
“Hi, Finola,” he mumbled through his mouthful. “Just having a snack before supper.”
I eyed the remains of the pile on the plate. “If that’s a snack, I’d love to see what you eat for dinner.”
“Two pounds of potatoes and half a chicken,” Miranda said, as she made her way through the grass with a tray, her long skirt swishing around her legs. “Aidan has the appetite of an elephant. I brought you some tea and a ginger sponge I just took out of the oven.”
“Lovely,” I said as I eyed Aidan’s skinny body, wondering where on earth he put it all. I sat back in the chair and looked around the garden with its gnarled apple trees, pink and yellow roses and the sweet peas with their heady scent. Despite the lack of care, this was an enchanting space, where butterflies flitted around and the sound of bees and birds soothed my overstressed brain. I closed my eyes and would have drifted off, if Aidan hadn’t nudged my elbow.
I opened my eyes. “Sorry. I suddenly felt sleepy. It’s such a peaceful garden.” I looked around. “Where did Miranda go?”
“Back into the kitchen. She said she’d leave us to chat.”
I sat up. “Okay, so let’s chat. What was it you wanted to tell me?”
Aidan coughed. “Well, um...I had this idea. It might be stupid but I thought...”
“Come on, spit it out,” I urged. “I could do with some ideas.”
Aidan nodded. “Yeah, well, you see, I’ve been elected to the student council, and I also edit the school newspaper. I read about that anti-bullying campaign in Sweden you mentioned. It’s been very effective. So I thought we could do something similar. This way, no one’s targeted directly, but if we can get enough students to join, we can set up a website and get someone to talk to us about bullying both in real life and on the Internet. I’ve already talked to the headmaster of our school, and he agreed that it was a very good idea. I think he knows very well who the bullies are, but he didn’t want to go accusing anyone and stir up trouble.” Aidan drew breath.
I looked at him with awe. “How old did you say you were?”
“Fourteen. Fifteen in August.”
“Pity. Too young to run the government. But I’m sure it’s written in the stars.” I put my hand on his thin shoulder. “Aidan, you’ve just solved a huge problem. I’ll work on an article about this, and we should also have a launch once it’s all set up. We’ll run it on Facebook and Twitter and everywhere we can. I want this to go viral.”
Aidan blushed furiously. “Really? You like it?”
“Like it? I absolutely adore it.”
“Oh, great. I had one more idea about how to make this really big.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like you to ask Colin Foley if he’d endorse it. Would that be okay? I mean, you and he are...close...right?”
“We’re friends, yes.” Why did the mere mention of that name make me feel hot all over? I touched my cheek. Was I blushing? I got up to hide my discomfort. “I’ll see if I can get a hold of him. Not a bad idea, though. Look, I have to go. And I’m sure you have homework to do.”
“Yes, I do. Would it be okay if I started setting up the website? One of the guys in sixth year is really good at it. So it wouldn’t cost anything.”
“Of course. Set it up, and then I’ll take look at it before you publish. When do you think that bullying specialist will do his talk?”
“The headmaster said in a week or two. He wants to get it all going before the summer holidays.”
“Good thinking. Bye for now, Aidan. See you soon.”
“Bye, Finola. Thanks for coming. Let me know what Colin says.”
“I will.” I walked through the garden so deep in thought, I no longer paid attention to the birdsong or the humming of bees. How would I contact Colin after what had happened between us?