‘Colleen.’ Alfie raised his hand and threw me a cheerful smile as I came through the door of the pub. ‘Good to see you.’
I’d had a couple of shots of vodka before I left the bedsit, so everything seemed louder and brighter than it had the day before.
‘Hi,’ I said, heading towards the bar. ‘Where’s Sandra?’
‘She’s out back on the phone,’ he said, as he pulled a pint for a grey-haired man, leaning on the counter. ‘She’ll be through in a minute.’
I hung my hoodie on a hook out the back and joined Alfie behind the bar. ‘So, what should I do?’ I said with a nervous shrug. It had been years since I’d worked in a pub, or with people. I was out of my depth already.
Alfie took five euros from his customer and turned to the till. ‘Just give me a hand behind here. Any problems, just yell.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I said, serving a youngish woman who wanted a large white wine. I had to ask Alfie how much to pour, how much it cost and how to use the till. He was patient with me and once I got into the role the evening flew by and I began to relax. At half past eight, Alfie took to the mic for the quiz night. He was a natural, with a boyish charm that appealed to me, and the punters loved him. He had great timing, and I realised I hadn’t laughed so much in years. I even knew the answers to some of the questions. I felt normal, free, like any other woman having a laugh, if only for a short while.
After the quiz, Alfie made us some coffee, saying he never drank when he was working, as he had to drive back to Drumcliff. I realised I hadn’t thought about having another vodka, despite being surrounded by alcohol. He kept up a steady stream of chatter, telling me funny stories about some of the regulars, keeping things light, as if he sensed it was all I could cope with.
Sandra looked over at us talking, narrowing her heavily made-up eyes, and after the pub closed and Alfie had gone down to the cellar to grab a crate of wine, she came over.
‘So, how was your first evening, Colleen?’ Her tone had a bit of an edge and I worried I’d made a complete mess of things.
‘I think it was fine,’ I said, pulling a glass from the dishwasher and wiping it with a tea towel. ‘You tell me.’
‘You’re good with the customers and I’m pleased to have you on board.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I saw you laughing with our Alfie,’ she added, nodding towards the cellar door. ‘You like him.’
It wasn’t a question. I felt my face flush. ‘He’s good fun.’
‘He is that.’ She lifted an over-plucked eyebrow. ‘Just be careful, love,’ she said. ‘You’ve been through a lot. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.’
‘He’s a nice guy, that’s all.’ It was annoying, having to defend myself, but I told myself she meant well.
‘And there’s something else, Colleen.’ She rested her hand on my arm. ‘Something I’ve debated whether to tell you, for fear you might take off. But I don’t see that I have a choice.’
‘What is it?’ Her expression worried me.
‘A man came in here after you left yesterday.’ She leaned in and I could smell the cloying sweetness of her breath, could see clumps of mascara thickening her lashes. ‘He was asking after you.’
My heart thumped against my ribs. ‘What man?’
‘It was your husband, Colleen. He wanted to know what you were doing here.’
The glass I was holding slipped through my fingers and smashed, shards of glass scattering on the wooden floorboards. I bent to pick them up and sliced my finger.
‘Shite!’ Pain seared through my hand.
‘Leave it, Colleen,’ Sandra said, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘I’ll sort it out.’
I got up, grabbed the tea towel and wrapped it round my finger. ‘Did you tell him I was working here?’
‘No, of course not.’ She shook her head. ‘I made out I didn’t know what he was on about. But he must know you’re here, love.’
Blood was soaking through the tea towel. ‘I have to go,’ I said, feeling sick. ‘I can’t work here, Sandra. I’m sorry.’ I grabbed my hoodie and headed for the door.
‘Wait! Let me look at that finger,’ Sandra called. ‘And I need to pay you.’
I didn’t look back as I dashed out into the cool evening air. My eyes flicked around, searching passing faces, tears blurring my vision. I pulled free the tea towel, to see a large gash near the tip of my finger. It needed stitches.
I spotted a taxi rounding the corner and hailed it.
Three hours in A & E, and three stitches later, I was on my way back to the bedsit, my hood up, my head down. A constant stream of traffic roared past, but there were no taxis, and I couldn’t call for one as I’d left my phone charging at the bedsit.
It was a fifteen-minute walk, and the sky was dark and clear with a sprinkling of stars. I hurried through the silent streets, looking over my shoulder every now and then. My finger throbbed, and it seemed light years ago that I’d been enjoying myself in the pub. I should have known it was too good to be true.
Out of nowhere, a creeping sense of dread came over me. I started running, certain I could feel eyes on my back, and arrived at the bedsit out of breath and hurtled up the stairs.
Seeing my front door was ajar, I froze for a moment on the landing before pushing it open with my foot. ‘Hello?’
I put my hand round and felt along the wall for the light switch and flicked it down.
A pungent scent filled my nostrils, and as brightness flooded the room I saw a wreath of white lilies on my pillow. I’d only ever seen a wreath of white lilies once before – at Bryony’s memorial.
I wanted to rush outside with it, hurl it into the river and watch it drift away, along with the memories it evoked. Overwhelmed with nausea, I moved slowly forward, picked up the wreath and laid it on the rickety table in the corner. Then I poured a glass of vodka and knocked it back with a shaky hand, the liquid biting the back of my throat and burning inside my chest. I poured another and scanned the room. Everything was how I’d left it: the heap of clothes spilling from my rucksack on the floor, my phone charging in the socket on the wall.
There was a card among the lilies. I plucked it out and with shaky fingers turned it over.
Rest in peace, Colleen.
There was no indication who had sent it, or who’d been in my room.
My phone pinged. Hardly breathing, I walked over and yanked it from the charger.
It was a text from Jake.
I hope you like the lilies, Colleen.
Trembling all over now, I deleted the message and threw the phone on the bed, before racing out of the apartment and down the stairs. I hammered on the landlord’s door. He took his time answering, appearing in striped pyjamas that gaped at the front, and a pair of grey socks, his yellowing big toenail visible through a hole.
‘What the hell?’ he said, scratching his head. ‘It’s two in the morning.’
‘You let someone into my room.’ My hands were clenched. I wanted to punch him.
‘Yeah, your husband.’
‘But I’m not with him anymore.’ I didn’t want to share the information, but felt I had no choice. ‘Don’t ever let him in my room again.’
‘He had a wreath.’ The man’s straggly eyebrows drew together, as if it had only just struck him as odd. ‘He said you were going to a funeral tomorrow and you’d be upset if you didn’t have it. What was I supposed to do? I’m not a fucking mind reader.’
‘Just don’t let him in again.’ I was shaking so hard I could barely keep still. I would have to move on from the bedsit, but I needed to be in Sligo to meet my father.
The landlord shrugged and slammed the door, as though he couldn’t care less.
Back in my room my phone was ringing. It was Jake again. I ignored it, but he was persistent. I caved in and answered on the third ring. ‘Jake, please don’t do this to me. I need some space,’ I cried. ‘I’ll come home when I’m ready and we can talk.’ It was a lie, but he wasn’t to know that.
He didn’t reply. All I could hear was the sound of his breathing.
I ended the call, turned off the phone and threw myself onto the bed, burying my head in the pillow. I couldn’t fight the tears, however hard I tried, and cried myself to sleep.
When I opened my eyes it was 6 a.m. I was cold, and my finger was throbbing. The scent of lilies was overpowering. I grabbed a handful of the shattered flowers, opened the window, and threw them to the ground below. But still the stench of them was too much and I had to get out of the room.
Still wearing the clothes I’d had on the day before, I left the bedsit and ran to the internet café, my eyes darting everywhere, searching for Jake in the shadows.
The café was empty, apart from the man with the tattoos behind the counter, and I sat at a screen, praying there would be a message from my father. That he would say he was back early and wanted to see me today. I would tell him about Jake and what he was doing. If he cared about me at all, he would help.
But there was no message.
I carefully signed in to Facebook with my good hand, to see a reply from Ella and felt oddly grateful. ‘My sister,’ I said, trying the words out loud to see how they made me feel. But they didn’t sound right. I had a sister once and I lost her. I didn’t want another.
Even so, as I read Ella’s message, I found myself laughing. She seemed so excited at the thought of getting to know me. Would she be so thrilled if she knew the real me – if she knew the truth?
She hadn’t held back, and had opened up to me with a trust I couldn’t comprehend. I had the sense that bad things didn’t happen to Ella Matthews, that she wouldn’t let them. Sure, her mum had died, but I felt she was the kind of woman who would cope with death, would learn and grow through the sadness.
My husband is handsome.
‘Never trust a handsome man,’ I said. ‘That’s something I can teach you, Ella Matthews.’
I continued to follow her words. She had a child. I was an auntie. Poor kid. Who’d want an auntie like me? ‘Auntie Colleen,’ I said out loud in a silly voice. This woman had everything – but she wanted me. I pressed Reply. Ella was my ticket out of the awful bedsit, and I was about to use that ticket. Ignoring her questions about the film editing, and whether I was married, I typed a reply:
Dear Ella, I’m in Sligo! Why not come over? I’m here for a while before I head home. I can’t wait to meet you and your family. We could book a hotel perhaps. Maybe you could book it for us both, and I’ll pay you when you arrive.
Your ever-loving sister, Colleen.
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