Chapter 10
‘I’m not saying, I don’t appreciate what you did, Pat, but I didn’t ask for your help. Besides, it wouldn’t have done the little scut any harm to try and find something himself,’ Richard sighed. He knew Pat would not understand why he wanted rid of Ritchie, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain. Pat was okay, for all his faults, but he was still only a tool for use. Richard certainly wasn’t going to explain to Pat that his little bollocks of a son had potentially cost him a small fortune. The sooner Richie was gone from Eranmore, the sooner he could try and repair the damage with McGuire, though he knew he was treading on very thin ice with the man. It was going to be a long time before the McGuire’s forgot the name Ritchie Gallagher and that in itself galled him, to say the least.
‘By the way, what did you say to Hennessy, to get him the job?’ Richard frowned.
‘I told them you’d put in a word about their planning, you being on the Commerce Committee, an' all.’
‘What?’
‘I had to, how else would they justify giving Ritchie the job and not young Phelan. Phelan’s father is one of their main suppliers.’
‘Jesus, Pat, planning is a whole different ball game. I don’t want to get mixed up in something, I can’t fix. I wish you’d just stayed out of it and let the little fucker find his own way,’
‘Stop worrying, Richard, you can always make up some story about local objections or something,’ Pat scoffed, lifting his pint to his lips.
‘Like what?’ Richard groaned inwardly. Sometimes he felt like
thumping Pat for his stupid off-the-cuff remarks.
‘I don‘t know, say it’s a listed building or some shite like that?’ Pat shrugged.
‘Do me a favour, Pat...don’t go making promises on my behalf ever again.’
‘He got the job didn’t he?’
‘Yeah, worthless little prick,’ Richard signalled the barman for a drink.
‘How well you knew he’d come to me?’
‘Because he’s my son, that’s why.’
‘So?’
‘He knows how things work in this town, it’s all about who you know.’
Pat grinned. ‘Are you really going to kick him out?’
‘It's time he went, he’s trouble.’
‘But he’s your son, and not a bad one either.’
‘You have him then.’
‘What, another one?’ Pat raised his eyebrows. ‘Funny,’ Richard sneered. ‘How’s he doing anyhow?’
‘Grand,’ Pat swished the liquor around his mouth. ‘So how long will Ritchie be in the job, do you reckon?’
Richard shrugged. ‘Don’t know and don’t care’
‘How come you’re being so hard on him, it’s not like he’s committed a murder or somethin'?’
‘She was thirteen...!’
‘So...?’
‘How would you like it if some fella interfered with your Maria?’
‘I’d slap him on the back and say good luck to him,’ Pat took another gulp from his pint.
‘Slap him into a shallow grave more like,’ Richard muttered. ‘You’ve seen how those young girls dress these days, they look years older than they really are, how the fuck was Ritchie supposed to know what age she was?’
‘He knew she was thirteen, she’s just finished her first year in St. Bridget's. He knew alright, just chanced his arm...dirty little bollocks. And stop defending him, he needs a lesson taught.’
‘Still think you’re being a bit rough on him, all the same.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, so stay out of it.’
Pat looked across to Richard and began to have a sneaky suspicion all was not as it seemed. There was something Richard was keeping from him, and after all Richard's talk about Pat being his confidant, his main man, Pat's ire rose a little, as his suspicion grew. He'd have to meet with young Ritchie again and do a bit of digging around. It must have been something important. Richard was going way over the top with the McGuire situation. Gave me the wrong boy there, Dick. Little fucker I got is a useless arty-farty faggot! he thought. ‘Richard...?’ he said, piping up after a momentary pause.
‘Hmm...’ he muttered, absently thumbing the side of his glass. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you...you know...about Robbie?’
‘What about him?’
‘What happens to our little arrangement when he leaves home?’
‘Don’t fret... I’ll deal with it,’ Richard answered, exhaling irritably.
‘I know-I know, it's just that...me and Mary kind of got used to the extra few bob, if you know what I mean,’ Pat said, nudging him.
‘I told you not to worry.’
‘Grand,’ Pat licked his lips and called for another pint. ‘Fancy another one?’ he asked Richard
‘Why not.’
‘Who's joining us tonight?’
‘Usual motley crew, Mulcahy, O’Keefe, Franklin, some of the boys from Derrin’s--’
‘Derrin’s...? Could be my lucky night!’ Pat said, interrupting, rubbing his hands with glee.
‘Take it handy, Pat, or they’ll suss us out.’
‘I always have, haven’t I?’
‘I know, but don’t be flashing the cash 'til they sink a few pints.’
‘Thought they played poker, not 45?’
‘They play both...badly,’ Richard winked.
Pat and Richard laughed. The night ahead was going to be profitable, if all went to plan. If nothing else, it put a rare ol' smile on the lips of Richard Gallagher and it was a real smile at that, the type that reached his eyes. But then, money was the only thing that ever mattered to Richard, after all it was his first and only love, one that had served him well so far.
***
Looking at her watch, Mel began to feel a surge of excitement as the plane taxied down the runway. Slow and painful as it had been, her long journey had finally ended. She was ready to see Marc, and take their relationship to the next level. She could see it all now in her mind's eye. Just the two of them, lying together on the beach, the sun blazing down upon them, laying side by side together in each other's arms. The picture was so clear in her mind that she shivered in anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see him again. The distance that had been forced between them, had frightened the life out of her. She had felt extremely vulnerable for some reason, almost as if the connection between them had been severed. It didn’t help that she still felt this way, so the sooner she could wrap her arms around his neck and nuzzle against his sweet cologne-scented body, the better. I can‘t wait to see his face when he sees me. He’d better say he’s sorry though, he owes me a humungous apology, even though I know he’ll be a bit pissed-off that I forgot the Jack Daniels. But I’ll get him some in Corfu. He’ll probably have to get the next flight with me and miss going with the gang. Still, he won’t mind. Tuh! I know he’ll be all shy, but one kiss and I’ll forgive him. He’ll be so shocked, I‘m coming. At least he’ll know I’m committed. Nearly there, Marc babe, nearly there.
Walking up to the nearest reservation desk she dropped her bag onto the floor. ‘Is this the only place you can check in for flights to Corfu?’
‘Yes…’
‘So anyone boarding has to check in through here, right?’
‘Yes, they’d have to check in here or gate 11,’ the clerk looked to her left.
Smiling as she tugged the bag back up onto her shoulder, Mel walked back toward the nearby seats lining terminal hall and slumped down. Now all she had to do was wait and wait she did. An hour had passed and there was still no sign of him. Looking up at the airport clock, then at her watch, then up at the clock again, she began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. He should be here by now. She swallowed hard. Panic began to rise as she searched every face coming through the automatic doors, willing each one to be Marc. Seeing the queues building up at the reservation desks, and unable to stand the suspense a moment longer, she jumped up from her seat and crossed the hall to the flight monitors. Surely he would’ve checked in by now, she thought, her anxious face searching furiously up at the screens. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, she hopped from one foot to the other, like a squirrel on a hot griddle, scanning each and every face passing through the automatic doors.
C’mon, Marc, where are you?
‘Miss...?’
‘Ah!’ she screamed as a hand touched her arm. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Mel turned around to see the tallest policeman she had ever seen in her life towering over her.
‘Yes?’ she gulped. ‘Your bag?’
‘Er…yes?’
‘I suggest you stay with it, miss.’
‘Oh,’ she glanced open-mouthed at the black holdall lying solitarily beneath the nearby row of chairs.
‘It could be taken,’ he warned.
‘Thanks,’ she said, rushing over throwing the officer a nervous smile. Relax Mel, he’ll think you’ve got drugs in there or something. The doors opened again. This time she saw a few familiar faces saunter through the Terminal doors, and was surprised to see the group had grown in size, in fact there seemed to be a lot more from Shake’s than Marc had originally said. But it didn’t matter, she knew all of them, except one. The one Marc had his arm around. Her steps faltered slowing to a complete stop, but it was too late by then, they'd seen her.
‘Mel...what are you doing here!’ Sandra screamed aloud for all to hear.
‘Hi Sandra...’ she acknowledged, but her eyes watched as Marc ambled casually toward her.
‘Mel!’ Various members of the group exclaimed as they approached. All, that is, except Ben. She watched as he hung behind and muttered something to Marc. As he looked up their eyes met, hers filled with questions, his filled with irritation. He muttered something back into Ben's ear and turned to his right whispering to the dark-haired girl draped around him. Both nodded and walked ahead with the rest of the group to the check-in desk. Mel watched the girl pass by, noticing the tanned flat mid-drift and long waist length hair swishing along the waistband of her cut-off jeans.
‘It's such a pity you can't make it, Mel,’ Sandra cried with fake concern. ‘We'll miss you, babes,’ she shrugged, then laughed hysterically as Mel ignored her and pushed through the crowd.
‘Better check in fast, this I gotta see!’ Kaleigh sniggered. ‘And me!’ Sandra rushed.
‘Leave it, you sick cow, he’s going to dump her, big deal,’ Tony sniffed, grabbing Kaleigh's arm and shepherding her toward the check-in desk.
‘I thought he already had?’ Someone else added.
Mel heard the words as she was sure she was meant too, but only the pain in her chest alerted her to something bad was about to happen. Then it suddenly occurred to her that they all knew what was going to happen long before she did.
‘C’mon, he’ll tell us on the plane,’ Kaleigh mumbled, leading the gaping-eyed gang across the departure lounge.
‘What are you doing here, Mel?’ Mark folded his arms in defiance.
‘I came to see you,’ she said evenly.
‘Yeah, well now you have,’ he sneered and side-stepped her. ‘Marc!’ She cried gripping his arm.
Pulling her hand off, he leaned toward her face. ‘Don’t make a scene, Mel, have some pride for fuck's sake!’
‘Marc?’
‘Say what you have to, and do it quick, I‘ve got a plane to catch.’
‘What are you doing?’ she pleaded.
‘I’m going on holiday, what does it look like?’
‘What about us...?’
‘There's no us, there hasn’t been an ‘us’ for a while,’ he sighed irritably, checking over his shoulder at her replacement.
Mel saw Ben wink reassuringly at Marc.
‘What do you mean, no us... I’ve only been gone a few days.’
‘Look, I tried to tell you in a nice way, but no, you had to make a big deal about it, didn’t you?’
Mel swallowed hard. This was not exactly going as she had planned and although he was saying the words, she couldn’t quite believe that they were coming from his mouth. A mouth that she had kissed, loved and wanted so badly
‘It’s over okay, so go back to Ireland, or wherever...’
He went to move away but she grabbed him by the arm again. ‘Marc!’ Tears stung her eyes.
‘Let go, Mel.’
‘I…I….love you,’ she muttered.
He shrugged. ‘So what!’ his impatience was growing. ‘You told me you loved me,’
He sighed heavily. ‘Well...?’
He shook his head.
‘Please, Marc, don’t end it like this. We can be good together,’ tears began to wet her cheeks.
‘Marc...?’ Ben called, an sense of urgency in his tone.
Marc took a deep breath. He needed this shit to be over with once and for all. ‘It’s over, Mel okay? O..V..E..R!’ he spelt aloud. ‘Please...,’ she pleaded between the sobs catching her throat.
He exhaled irritably, blasting his fringe-hair upwards with a long exasperated breath.
‘Give me a chance, give us a chance. Please, Marc,’ she pleaded again.
‘It’s too late.’
‘It’s not too late,’ she sobbed wiping the tears away with her hand. ‘Bye, Mel.’
‘Oi, c’mon, Markie boy!’ Ben shouted from the reservation desk.
Nodding back to him, Marc waved and turned rolling his eyes to the others as he left her behind.
‘Marc?’ she called, running after him and grabbing him by the arm. He spun around and gripped her hand throwing it away viciously.
‘Fuck off, Mel!’
‘Why are you being such a pig about this?’
‘Don’t you get it? You and me haven’t been right for a long while. You’re always around my place, crowding me, in my face, even my mum can’t get a look in without you being there all the time.
Anytime I’m at football with the lads... Who's always standing there hanging around like a fucking noose? You! Every time, my phone rings at work, who’s on the other end of the line? You! Every time I want to do something by myself? Who’s always there? You, Mel.
You hang around me, follow me, and fucking annoying me to the point that I was glad when you went away with your sister. I was free. Free, Mel! And guess what? I liked it. So get me when I say this, and I mean it... We are finished! Period! Ended, Kaput. Over!’ he hissed, spattering her face with spittle.
Mel wiped away the droplets unable to accept that the Marc she had adored for so long was treating her like a piece of shit. ‘It’s over then...?’ she said, her voice faltering with each syllable.
‘Duh! You think?’ Marc mimed a moronic face.
Mel sniffed wiping the remainder of the wetness away with her t- shirt sleeve and watched as the deepest love of her life, turned and sauntered up to the flight desk, immediately wrapping his arm around the dark-haired girl who was staring at her with a mixture of pity and triumph.
Mel stood there and watched as they disappeared through the departure gates without a second glance. Sandra was the only one to turn and wave, before bellowing with hysterical laughter as she disappeared from view. Mel stood for a long time waiting until her tears dried up. Dropping her head and shuffling back to her bag unaware that the airport policeman was standing beside it, she slumped down on the plastic seat resting her face in her hands.
‘This wouldn't be the best time to remind you about your luggage, would it?’ he joked.
‘No,’ she whimpered.
‘I take it that’s your boyfriend?’
‘Was my boyfriend.’
‘Bit of a prick,’ he muttered removing his cap.
Mel turned her face to the policeman not lifting it from her hands. ‘That’s what he says about you lot.’
‘I was right then, wasn’t I?’ he smiled. Mel didn’t answer.
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Don’t know... Don’t care...’
‘Going home?’
‘Suppose.’
‘Where’s home?’
‘Islington.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Hmm.’
‘When?’
‘In a little while,’ Mel stared absently ahead. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Are you trying to pick me up?’ she snapped lifting her head from her hands.
‘No, just doing my job,’ he smiled.
‘So picking women up is your job then?’ she huffed.
‘Look, I’m on a break now,’ he added ignoring her sarcasm. ‘So, I'm not stopping you?’ she mumbled.
‘How about I buy you a coffee,’ he smiled. She eyed him suspiciously.
‘I promise I won’t mention the luggage again.’ She shrugged.
‘I’ll even see if I can muster up a strip search for your ex,’ he prompted.
She peered up at his face. ‘You can do that?’ she asked him seriously.
‘It’s all who you know,’ he tapped the side of his nose with his finger.
Mel’s mouth curved into a small smile. ‘C’mon, a coffee won’t hurt,’ he insisted.
She sighed.
‘I promise, no personal questions...well...maybe a few,' he grinned.
She leaned back into her seat and sighed again. ‘I’d be lousy company,’ she admitted.
‘Good, I hate happy chatters.’
Mel smiled despite herself, and didn't see how a cup of coffee would hurt.
‘Why not, I don’t want to go home just yet,’ she sighed clambering to her feet.
‘Allow me,’ he said, bending down and lifting the straps of her bag.
‘It’s heavy,’ she warned.
‘It’s alright, I'm used to lifting heavy stuff, I have sisters,’ he added.
She gave another small smile. As they walked she was thankful he had the grace to leave her with her thoughts. She didn’t feel like talking, anymore than drinking coffee, with a complete stranger, but right at this minute she couldn’t think what else to do. Marc was gone for good and she was finding the whole thing hard to comprehend.
‘Sit here, I’ll get us a coffee,’ he said.
Mel sat on the cafe seat overlooking the terminal below and leant over the metal balcony. He never loved me really, did he? I saw that look in his eyes. I was nothing but a thorn in his side. Three whole years and for what? Nothing. To be dumped in front of those bitches, three long wasted years…
‘Here you are,’ a male voice said, interrupting her thoughts. She dragged herself off the railing and picked up the cup. ‘Let me guess?’
‘What?’
‘He dumped you.’
Mel dropped the cup into the saucer adopting a hardened pose. ‘May I ask what business it is of yours?’
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked?’
‘Well, why did you?’
‘Habit,’ he tore two sachets of sugar and poured them into his cup. ‘Habit?’
‘Yeah, drives my mates nuts,’ he tore two more sachets and poured again.
‘Oh, I get it--’
‘No you don’t,’ he interrupted, ‘I have three sisters,’ he looked across at her seriously.
‘So?’ her belligerence sounded childish.
‘So I’ve listened to three sisters cry, bitch, scream, and swear off men for life.’
‘And?’ she was slightly intrigued.
‘And, do you know what?’ he tore another sachet pouring it into his coffee.
‘What?’
‘Each time it was the best thing that ever happened to them.’
‘So speaks a man. Look, why don’t you just pour your coffee into a sugar bowl?’ she asked watching him tear sachet after sachet of sugar.
‘I like it sweet.’
‘Don’t you all.’
‘Now-now,’ he patronised jokingly.
‘Sorry, it's not your fault, but I did say I was lousy company, you had been warned.’
‘Not so lousy.’
‘Trust me I am, or at least I will be from here on in.’
‘You’ll get over him.’
‘Don‘t tell me what I will or won‘t do, I love him... Well...loved him.’
‘I’m not telling you what you will or won‘t do, but you will...trust me.’
‘Ah, of course, the voice of experience,’ she narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you going to drink that?’ he nodded to her coffee.
‘Why, do you want to pour a pound of sugar into it?’
‘What’s your name?’ he asked, ignoring her sarcasm.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘So I can call you something.’
‘What’s yours?’ she quipped.
‘Mark.’
‘Shit, you’re not serious?’
‘Eh?’
‘Mark isn’t a good name for me.’
‘Was that his name?’
She nodded through pursed lips. ‘Well, I’m nice Mark.’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘Yeah but I’m telling the truth.’
‘Tell me, nice Mark,’ she sat back in her seat folding her arms, ‘is there a pleb like me waiting for you to come home? Is she sitting there planning a life with you while you're sitting here chatting up a complete stranger?’ she hissed, but her venom didn’t seem to have any effect on him.
‘Nope, no pleb waiting at home,’ he smiled.
‘No sad woman thinking about fixed rate mortgages, Ikea and cosy nights in?’
‘Is that what you thought about?’ he laughed.
‘Don’t laugh at me...and no I didn’t. Perhaps one day, but no...never,’ she lied.
‘But you thought marriage right?’
‘Don’t we all?’
‘Depends.’
‘Well, don't you?’
‘Some day, no point in rushing it?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘Well maybe he had a point.’
‘Agreeing with him now!’
‘I’m just saying that I don’t see why getting married is the be-all and end-all for some girls. Blokes generally don’t think about it.’
‘Yeah, well we can’t all control our emotions like robots! Oh yeah, I forgot...you can.’
‘You don’t even know me,’ he levelled.
‘You’re called Mark, aren’t you? Stupid name, by the way, and you’re a man. Case closed.’
‘Oh stop it.’
‘What?’
‘Feeling sorry for yourself,’ he chuckled.
‘Fuck you! And stop laughing at me,’ she hissed. ‘Tell me your name and I will.’
‘It's Pleb.’
‘You don’t look like a Pleb.’
‘Well I feel like one,’ a small smile lifted her mouth. ‘Aaah...! ’ she growled. ‘I feel as if I’m losing my mind!’ she said, bending forward and rubbing her hand across her tear-stained face.
‘Tell me your name.’
‘Mel,’ she finally answered. ‘And don’t come out with the, "Ohhh what a pretty name you have," crap! Sounds like a line from Red Riding Hood,’ she snarled and half smiled at the same time.
Mark chuckled. He couldn’t help but like this tear-stained, mascara-streaked mess sitting across from him. ‘You look like a Mel,’ he added.
‘No I don’t.’
‘Yeah you do.’
‘Well, you don’t look like a Mark.’
‘I think I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘Well don’t.’
‘What do I look like then?’
‘P.C. Plod,’ she quipped.
‘Original,’ he answered, humouring her.
She dropped her eyes from his and sipped on the coffee. ‘Sorry...
I didn’t mean to sound nasty,’ she finally said. ‘Yeah you did.’
She looked up, saw he was still smiling and shrugged. With a deep sigh she turned away and looked over the railings at the passengers queuing for flights in the terminal lobby below.
‘What’ll you do now, Mel?’
‘Don‘t know. I flew over from Ireland this morning to be with that prick.’
‘Ireland?’
‘Yeah, my sister's on a holiday there and dragged me along with her. Next thing I knew Marc was heading off to Corfu.’
‘And you came rushing back.’
‘Yeah, sad bitch, aren’t I?’
‘No. You must really love him?’
‘Loved,’ she corrected.
‘You followed him.’
‘As I said, sad and stupid.’
‘Not sad, desperate perhaps.’
‘Charming,’ she said, giving him a mock glare.
‘Stop taking everything so personally, Mel. Told you already, I have three sisters. What I don’t know about women isn’t worth knowing.’
‘Well give 'em a ring and bring them over, I could do with some advice,’ she sneered.
‘You can stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ he added seriously. ‘Okay, I’ve stopped now… Gee thanks.’
‘Sarky... It’s to be expected though.’
‘Do you know what you sound like?’
‘You’re going to tell me right.’
‘An arrogant, self-assured, conceited, self righteous arse-hole!’
‘What about selfish, cruel, mean…?’
‘Stop taking the piss!’ she warned, trying to keep the smile from her face. ‘Do you really have three sisters, or are you just bullshitting me?’ she asked.
‘Sure do.’
‘Well I hope they taught you a thing or two about how to treat women.’
‘I still have the scars. I'll show you if you like?’ Mel laughed.
‘That’s better.’
‘Stop humouring me.’
‘You look nice when you smile.’
‘Stop chatting-up a sad pleb.’
‘I’m attracted to sad plebs, it's my one weakness.’
‘You’d do my head in if you were my boyfriend,’ Mel cursed her words as they fell from her lips. Feeling so comfortable, she felt she could say whatever she wanted without any sort of implication. ‘Flattering,’ he smiled
‘Stop fishing for compliments,’ she smiled back. ‘I’m a heartbroken woman. I’m liable to say Attila the Hun was a nice guy.’
‘So I see,’ he mused.
‘Can’t believe my friends were such shits,’ she said, suddenly remembering the gang shying away from her and enjoying every
moment as Marc threw her out of his life.
‘Thought they were...’ she sighed, and left the sentence unfinished.
Standing up, Mark drained his coffee-cup and looked at his watch, ‘I’ve got to go back to work.’
‘Thanks for the coffee.’
He looked down at her and smiled. Taking out a pen he bent over the table and wrote on the clean side of a paper napkin. ‘I’m not going to let opportunity slip by, Mel. I’d like to see you again, but I know you’re going through the, "all men are bastards" stage.’
‘Aren’t they?’ she added matter-of-factly.
‘There’s my number, give me a ring and we’ll go for a bite to eat somewhere. No pressure, no dating, just a curry and a laugh,’ he added seriously.
Mel dropped her eyes.
‘Nothing heavy, just friends, I promise. I’ll show you that not all Mark’s are bastards,’ he smiled. ‘Thanks.’
As she watched him walk away down the flight of steps, she surprised herself by acknowledging that he was certainly attractive. Tall...very tall, in fact, dark haired and cute in a rough out-doors type of way. Maybe a couple of years older than her, and without the vanity that Marc had had, that much was obvious. Would it hurt to ring him?
‘Hey Mark...?’ she called down to the top his capped head at the bottom of the stairs leading to the terminal lobby.
He looked up at her.
‘Don’t forget the strip search.’
‘I won’t,’ he mouthed back.
Mel smiled at him as he walked back into the crowded terminal and out of view. She looked at the scrawled numbers on the piece of paper in her hand feeling the smile fall from her lips. It was the name Mark above it that caused the violent tug inside her chest.
Wincing openly as the lump began to rise in her throat threatening to spill over into her eyes, she shook her head and stood up. Climbing down the steps of the café, she reached the ground floor and searched aimlessly around. She knew she should go home but the thoughts of spending the next couple of weeks alone unnerved her. She wanted to be with her family. Mum and Dad won’t be back for another 10