“Eh … thanks,” Holly repeated, shaking his hand weakly. “I better get back to work now.” She stood up from her chair and walked stiffly out of the office.
“Well, did he like it?” Alice asked loudly, walking down the hall.
“Eh … yeah, he loved it. He wants me to write more.” Holly bit her lip, feeling guilty for taking all the credit.
“Oh.” Alice looked away. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one?” She continued walking to her desk.
Forty-three
DENISE BANGED THE TILL CLOSED with her hip and handed the receipt over the counter to the customer. “Thanks,” she smiled, and her smile quickly faded as soon as the customer turned away from the counter. She sighed loudly, staring at the long queue forming in front of the cash register. She would have to stand here at the till all day and she was just dying for a cigarette break. But there was no way she could slip away, so she grumpily grabbed the item of clothing from the next customer, de-tagged it, scanned it, and wrapped it.
“Excuse me, are you Denise Hennessey?” she heard a deep voice ask and she looked up to see where the sexy voice had come from. She frowned as she saw a police officer before her.
She hesitated while trying to think if she had done anything illegal in the past few days, and when she was satisfied that she was crime-free she smiled. “Yes, I am.”
“I’m Officer Ryan and I was wondering if you would accompany me to the station, please.”
It was more of a statement than a question, and Denise’s mouth dropped open in shock. He was no longer the sexy officer, he was the evil-lock-her-up-forever-in-a-tiny-cell-with-a-luminous-orange-jumpsuit-and noisy-flip-flops-and-no-hot- water-or-makeup-type officer. Denise gulped and had an image of herself being beaten up by a gang of tough angry women that didn’t care about mascara, in the exercise yard at the prison while the prison guards looked on and made bets over who would win. She gulped, “What for?”
“If you just comply with what I’ve said, everything will be explained to you down at the station.” He started to walk around the counter and Denise backed away slowly and looked at the long line of customers helplessly. Everybody just stared back at her, amused by the scene that was unfolding before them.
“Check his ID, love,” one of the customers shouted to her from the end of the queue.
Her voice shook as she demanded to see his ID, which was a completely useless operation, as she had never seen a police ID before nor did she know what a real one would look like. Her hand trembled as she held the ID and studied it closely, but she didn’t read a thing. She was too self-conscious of the crowd of customers and staff that had gathered to stare at her with looks of disgust on their faces. They were all thinking the same thing: She was a criminal.
Denise hardened, refusing to go without a fight. “I refuse to go with you until you tell me what this is about.”
He walked toward her again. “Ms. Hennessey, if you just work with me here, then there will be no need to use these.” He took out a pair of handcuffs from his trousers. “There’s no need to make a scene.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” she protested, starting to panic.
“Well, we can discuss that down at the station, can’t we?” He began to get irate.
Denise backed away, she was determined to let her customers and staff know that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She would not go with this man to the station until he explained what she had supposedly done wrong. She stopped backing away and crossed her arms across her chest to show how tough she was.
“I said I will not go with you until you tell me what this is about.”
“OK then,” he shrugged, walking toward her. “If you insist.” He opened his mouth to speak and she yelled as she felt the cold silver handcuffs being slapped around her wrists. It wasn’t exactly the first time she had ever worn a pair of handcuffs, so she wasn’t surprised at how they felt, but she was in so much shock she couldn’t speak; she just watched everyone’s surprised expressions as the officer led her by the arm out of the shop.
“Good luck, love,” the customer shouted again as she was led by the queue. “If they send you to Mount Joy tell my Orla I said hi and that I’ll be there to visit her at Christmas.”
Denise’s eyes widened and images of her pacing a cell that she shared with a psycho murderer jumped into her mind. Maybe she would find a little bird with a broken wing and nurse it and teach it to fly to pass the years inside …
Her face reddened as they stepped out onto Grafton Street, and the crowds immediately scattered as soon as they saw the garda and a hardened criminal. Denise kept her eyes down to the ground, hoping nobody she knew would spot her being arrested. Her heart beat wildly and she briefly thought of escape. She looked around quickly and tried to figure out an escape route, but she was too slow; she was already being led toward a beat-up-looking minibus, the well-known color blue of the police with blackened-out windows. Denise sat in the front row of seats behind the driver, and although she could sense people behind her, she sat rigidly in her seat, too terrified to turn around and meet her future fellow inmates. She leaned her head against the window and said good-bye to freedom.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they drove past the police station. The female police officer driving the car and Officer Ryan ignored her and stared ahead of them.
“Hey!” she shouted. “I thought you said you were taking me to the station!” They continued to stare straight ahead.
“Hey! Where are we going?!”
No answer.
“I haven’t done anything wrong!”
Still no answer.
“I’m innocent goddammit! Innocent, I tell you!”
Denise started kicking the chair in front of her, trying to get their attention. Her blood started to boil when the female officer pushed a cassette into the player and turned the music up. Denise’s eyes widened at the choice of song.
Officer Ryan turned around in his chair with a big grin on his face. “Denise, you have been a very naughty girl.” He stood up and made his way in front of her. She gulped as he started to gyrate his hips to the song “Hot Stuff.”
She was about to give him a great big kick between his legs when she heard whooping and laughing from the back of the bus. She twisted herself around and spotted her sisters, Holly, Sharon and about five other friends picking themselves up from the floor of the minibus. She had been in so much shock she hadn’t even noticed them when she got on the bus. She finally figured out what was really happening when her sisters placed a veil on her head while screaming “Happy hen party!” That was the main clue.
“Oh, you bitches!” Denise spat at them, effing and blinding them until she had used every single curse word invented, and even made up a few of her own.
The girls continued to hold their stomachs with laughter.
“Oh, you are so lucky I didn’t kick you in the balls!” Denise screamed at the gyrating garda.
“Denise, this is Paul,” her sister Fiona giggled, “and he’s your stripper for the day.”
Denise narrowed her eyes and continued to curse at them. “I almost had a heart attack, I hope you know! I thought I was going to prison. Oh my God, what will my customers think? And my staff! Oh my God, my staff think I’m a criminal.” Denise closed her eyes as though she were in pain.
“We told them about it last week,” Sharon giggled. “They were all just playing along.”
“Oh, the little bitches,” Denise repeated. “When I go back to work I’m going to fire the lot of them. But what about the customers?” Denise asked, panicking.
“Don’t worry,” her sister said. “We told your staff to inform the customers it was your hen party after you left the shop.”
Denise rolled her eyes. “Well, knowing them they deliberately won’t, and if they don’t then there will be complaints, and if there are complaints I will be so fired.”
“Denise! Stop worrying! You don’t think we would have done this without running it
by your boss. It’s OK!” Fiona explained. “They thought it was funny, now relax and enjoy the weekend.”
“Weekend? What the hell are you girls going to do to me next?! Where are we going for the weekend?” Denise looked around at her friends, startled.
“We’re going to Galway, and that’s all you need to know,” Sharon said mysteriously.
“If I wasn’t bloody handcuffed I’d slap you all in the face,” Denise threatened.
The girls all cheered as Paul stripped out of his uniform and poured baby oil over his body for Denise to massage into his skin. Sharon unlocked the handcuffs of a gobsmacked Denise.
“Men in uniform are so much nicer out of them …,” Denise mumbled, rubbing her wrists as she watched him flex his muscles before her.
“Lucky she’s engaged, Paul, or you would be in big trouble!” the girls teased.
“Big trouble is right,” Denise mumbled again, staring in shock as the rest of the clothes came off. “Oh girls! Thank you so much!” she giggled, her voice a very different tone than before.
“Are you OK, Holly? You’ve barely said a word since we got into this van,” Sharon said, handing her a glass of champagne and keeping a glass of orange juice for herself. Holly turned to look out of the window and stared at the green fields as they flew by. The green hills were dotted with little white specks as the sheep climbed to new heights, oblivious to the wonderful views. Neat stone walls separated each field and you could see the gray lines, jagged like those in jigsaw puzzles, for miles, connecting each piece of land together. Holly had yet to find a few pieces for her own puzzled mind.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m OK.”
· · ·
“Oh, I really have to ring Tom!” Denise groaned, collapsing onto the double bed she and Holly were sharing in the hotel room. Sharon was fast asleep on the single bed beside them and had refused to listen to Denise’s hilarious idea of Sharon having to sleep in the double bed on her own due to the size of her rapidly growing bump. She had gone to bed much earlier than the other girls after eventually becoming bored of their drunken behavior.
“I’m under strict orders not to let you ring Tom,” Holly yawned. “This is a girls-only weekend.”
“Oh please,” Denise whimpered.
“No. I am confiscating your phone.” She grabbed the mobile from Denise’s hand and hid it in the press beside the bed.
Denise looked like she was going to cry. She watched as Holly lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, and she began to formulate a plan. She would wait until Holly was asleep and then she would call Tom. Holly had been so quiet all day it was really starting to irritate Denise. Every time Denise had asked her a question she got nothing but yes or no answers back, and every attempt to strike up a conversation failed. It was obvious that Holly wasn’t enjoying herself, but what really annoyed Denise was to see that Holly wasn’t even trying to enjoy herself, or even pretending to be enjoying herself. Denise could understand that Holly was upset and that she had a lot to deal with in her life, but it was her hen party and she couldn’t help feeling that Holly was bringing the atmosphere down a bit.
The room was still spinning. Having closed her eyes, Holly was now unable to sleep. It was five o’clock in the morning, which meant that she had been drinking for almost twelve hours, and her head was pounding. Sharon had given in long ago and had done the sensible thing by going to bed early. Her stomach became queasy as the walls spun around and around and around … She sat up on the bed and tried to keep her eyes open so she could avoid the feeling of seasickness.
She turned to face Denise on the bed so that they could talk, but the sound of her friend’s snores ended all thought of communication between them. Holly sighed and looked around the room. She wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep in her own bed, where she could be surrounded by familiar smells and noises. She felt her way across the bedcovers in the dark for the remote control and flicked on the television. Commercial presentations adorned the screen. Holly watched as they demonstrated a new knife to slice oranges without spraying yourself in the face with the juice. She saw the amazing socks that never got lost in the wash and stayed together at all times.
Denise snored loudly beside her and she kicked Holly in the shins as she changed position. Holly winced and rubbed her leg as she watched with sympathy Sharon’s extremely frustrated struggle to lie on her stomach. Eventually she settled on her side and Holly rushed to the toilet and hung her head over the toilet seat, prepared for whatever might come. She wished she hadn’t drunk so much, but with all the talk of weddings and husbands and happiness she had needed all the wine in the bar to prevent her from screaming at everyone to shut up. She dreaded to think what the next two days would be like. Denise’s friends were twice as bad as Denise. They were loud and hyper and acted exactly the way girls should on a hen weekend, but Holly just didn’t have the energy to keep up with them. At least Sharon had the excuse of being pregnant; she could pretend she wasn’t feeling well or that she was tired. Holly had no excuse apart from the fact that she had turned into a complete bore, and she was saving that excuse for a time when she really needed it.
It felt like only yesterday that Holly had had her own hen party, but in fact it was more than seven years ago. She had flown over to London with a group of ten girls for the weekend to party hard, but she ended up missing Gerry so much she had to speak to him on the phone every hour. Back then she had been so excited about what was to come and the future had looked so bright.
She was to marry the man of her dreams and live and grow with him for the rest of their lives. For the entire weekend she was away she counted the hours until she could return home. She was so excited on the flight back to Dublin. Although they had been apart for only a few days, it had felt like an eternity. He had been waiting for her at arrivals with a huge board in his hand saying MY FUTURE WIFE. She had dropped her bags when she saw him and run into his arms and hugged him so tight. She had never wanted to let go; what a luxury it was for people to be able to hold their loved ones whenever they wanted. The scene at the airport seemed like a scene from a movie now, but it had been real: real feelings, real emotions and real love, because it was real life. Real life had become a nightmare for her.
Yes, she had finally managed to drag herself out of bed every morning, yes, she even managed to get dressed most of the time. Yes, she had succeeded in finding a new job where she had met new people, and yes, she had finally started buying food again and feeding herself. But no, she didn’t feel ecstatic about any of these things. They were just formalities, something else to check off on the “things that normal people do” list. None of these things filled the hole in her heart; it was as if her body had become one great jigsaw, just like the green fields with their pretty gray stone walls connecting the whole of Ireland. She had started working on the corners and the edges of her jigsaw because they were the easy bits, and now that they were all in place she needed to do all the bits in between, the hard parts. But nothing she had done so far had managed to fill that hole in her heart; that piece of the jigsaw had yet to be found.
Holly cleared her throat loudly and pretended to have a coughing fit just so the girls would wake up and talk to her. She needed to talk, she needed to cry and she needed to vent all her frustrations and disappointments about her life. But what more could she say to Sharon and Denise that she hadn’t said before? What more advice could they give her that they hadn’t given her before? She repeated the same old worries over and over. Sometimes her friends would succeed in getting through to her and she would feel positive and confident, only to find herself thrown back into despair days later.
After a while Holly tired of staring at the four walls, threw on a tracksuit and made her way back downstairs to the hotel bar.
Charlie groaned with frustration as the table down the back of the bar began to roar with laughter again. He wiped down the bar counter and glanced at his watch. Five-thirty and he was still here working and he couldn?
??t wait to go home. He had thought he was so lucky when the girls from the hen party had eventually gone to bed earlier than expected, and he was about to tidy up and go home when another gang arrived at the hotel after a nightclub had finished in Galway city. And they were still here. In fact, he would have preferred if the girls had stayed up instead of the arrogant crowd sitting down the back. They weren’t even residents of the hotel, but he had to serve them because the group included the daughter of the owner of the hotel, who had brought all her friends back to the bar. She and her arrogant boyfriend, and he couldn’t stand them.
“Don’t tell me you’re back for more!” the barman laughed as one of the women from the hen party walked into the room. She walked toward the bar, bumping into the wall many times as she tried to make her way to the high stool. Charlie tried not to laugh. “I just came down for a glass of water,” she hiccuped. “Oh my God,” she wailed, catching sight of herself in the mirror over the bar. Charlie had to admit that she did look a bit shocking; a bit like the scarecrow in his dad’s farm. Her hair looked like straw and was sticking out in all directions, her eyes had black circles around them from smudging her mascara, and her teeth were stained from the red wine.
“There you go,” Charlie said, placing a glass of water on a beer mat in front of her.
“Thanks.” She dipped her finger into her glass and wiped the mascara from her eyes and rubbed the wine stains from her lips.
Charlie began to laugh and she squinted at his name tag.
“What are you laughing at, Charlie?”
“I thought you were thirsty, but I would have given you a facecloth if you’d asked for one,” he chuckled.
The woman laughed and her features softened. “I find the ice and lemon helps my skin.”
“Well, that’s a new one.” Charlie laughed and continued to wipe down the counter. “Did you girls have fun tonight?”