Читать книгу The Woman at 72 Derry Lane: A gripping, emotional page turner that will make you laugh and cry - Carmel Harrington - Страница 16

Derry Lane, Dublin, 2014

‘You took your time,’ Rea grumbled, letting Louis in.

‘I told you I’d be back. Had to get something to eat first.’ He wrinkled his nose and laughed, ‘I see what you mean. There’s a powerful twang off that bin alright.’

The smirk on Louis’ face should have irritated Rea, but it didn’t. The little shit knew that she was at his mercy, but even so, his sheer audacity amused her. He had spunk, get up and go. He wasn’t afraid to hustle and at least he was honest about it. But despite the fact that Louis Flynn was her only contact with the big wide world outside, he was enjoying himself far too much for her liking. So she scowled at him, her mind ticking over ways to bring him back down a few notches.

‘That cheap aftershave of yours sure is nasty, gives a shocking twang alright.’ Rea tried hard to mimic the boy’s smirk and it must have worked because his face fell. Then he gathered himself together and said with an exaggerated wink, ‘I wouldn’t waste the good stuff coming in here to see an aul wan’ like you.’

She snorted in response to cover the laugh that was trying to escape and turned away so he couldn’t see her face.

He carried on channelling his inner Del Boy, ‘I’m a busy man. People to see, things to do. So let’s cut to the chase. I’ve given you my new terms, take it or leave it.’

‘A busy man, you say?’ She looked him up and down once more and sneered, ‘A busy boy, you mean! And what has you so overloaded?’

Rea took out two glasses from the press and poured Fanta orange into them both. Then she grabbed her treat jar and opened the lid, pushing it towards him. He dived in, rooting around till he found his favourite at the bottom – the Twix bars. Rea noted to herself that she’d better add them to her Tesco online shopping list, she’d nearly ran out.

He gulped back the fizz in seconds, then burped loudly, delighted with himself, winking at her. ‘Both.’

‘You’re a pig, Louis Flynn.’

‘Maybe, but I’m a pig who right now is the only one willing to empty your bins. So either you agree to twenty euros a week for that Class A service or I’m out of here.’

‘You only have to bring the bins a few hundred feet down the path, all in all, which takes you less than five minutes each time!’

‘You do it, then, if it’s so easy,’ he replied, sly as a fox. He had Rea over a barrel and he knew it.

‘What would your mother say, if she knew you were trying to quadruple our agreed rates?’

‘She wouldn’t care less. She’s too busy with her latest fella.’

‘A new fella? Sure, she’s only just set the last one packing!’ Rea threw her eyes up to the ceiling.

‘It’s some gobshite who delivers pizzas for Harry’s. They fell for each other over a Hawaiian deep crust.’

Rea had a bad feeling about this. ‘Don’t tell me he has an earring …’

‘Yeah, he does. Size of it, a big round hoopy yoke that girls usually wear. Why?’

‘I know, I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous in my life,’ Rea said. ‘He delivered a pizza here the other night and I told him to go … well, never mind, let’s just say I had words with him.’

‘You can’t leave it like that, Mrs B. What did you say to him?’ Louis was up off his seat, face lit up with excitement.

Buoyed by his enthusiasm, Rea said, ‘I may or may not have given him the finger.’

He roared laughing, delighted with the news. ‘I’d have loved to see that. We were his last call and apparently Mam and him were giving each other the eye last week in Tomangos. So she invites him in. He’s already strutting around like he owns the gaff, bleedin’ tool. And he ruffled my hair, calling me kiddo. Eejit!’

Rea pushed the tin towards Louis, saying, ‘Go on, have another one,’ and he smiled, reaching in for a second bar.

Rea leaned forward and said, ‘Tell you what, ten euro and that’s my final offer, that’s double what you get right now.’ Then she threw in a lie, just to rattle him. ‘That new family who moved into number 65, well, they’ve a lovely young girl, twelve years old and her mam was up here last week saying to me that she would love to help me out.’

He looked at Rea, doubt all over his young, spotty face.

‘Ten euro, take it or leave it. Or I’ll take my business elsewhere.’

‘Fifteen euro, take that or leave that, Rea Brady,’ he threw back at her. He’d some neck on him, she thought. She walked over to her phone and picked it up, making a big deal of scrolling through her contacts for a number.

‘Where is that number again? I’ll just give that lovely woman in number 65 a quick bell and ask her to send her daughter over. I’d say she’d jump at the chance to earn a tenner a week. Hell, the way her mam was talking, she’d probably do it for nothing. Sweet little thing. Well brought up. And, when I think of it, I’d be saving on all the treats too. Because she’d probably not eat me out of house and home every time she called.’

To illustrate the point, Rea picked up the tin and put the lid back on it.

‘Alright, ten euro it is,’ Louis said, the loss of treats tipping the negotiations in Rea’s favour. ‘Only because you gave yer man the finger. Respect for that, Mrs B.’

Rea bowed her head, ‘I do my best.’

‘I want cash up front. No argument,’ Louis said.

‘You’ll get paid on a Saturday morning, at the end of the week, you chancer,’ Rea answered back, then added, ‘No argument.’

He was still laughing when he picked up the two black sacks Rea had tied up ready for him. He hauled them over his shoulder. For a skinny lad, he was strong. ‘I’ll grab the ones out back in a minute,’ he said.

‘You eating enough, Louis?’ Rea asked, worried. His mother wasn’t a bad person, she realised. Just a bit flaky and far too preoccupied with her love life. But, there again, she was a single mum, so who was she to judge? She’d had George to help raise her two.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Louis replied.

‘And are you doing your homework? You know it’s important you do well in your exams.’

‘Quit your nagging, you’re worse than me ma.’ But he was grinning. The truth was, he loved coming to Rea’s and loved her worrying about him. He didn’t get to see his grandma any more because his ma and her had fallen out.

‘Alright! I’ll shut up, for now. I’ll text you when they’re full again. And this time, I don’t care how busy you are, don’t leave me waiting.’

‘Mam say’s you’re weird, you know.’ He looked back over his shoulder as he opened the back door.

‘A lot do,’ Rea replied.

‘She doesn’t get why you never go out. You don’t, do you? Go out any more?’

What was there to say in response to that?

‘None of your beeswax. See you in a few days.’ And she slammed the back door shut as she shooed him out.

Explaining why she didn’t go out any more was difficult. She didn’t really understand it herself and, in her experience, when she tried to explain it to family and friends, they understood it less.

The fear, the panic at being outside, well, it sort of crept up on her. She hadn’t been herself for a long time. Not since Elise had left, really. George had thought she was depressed. She went to see her doctor and he told her it was normal. Empty-nest syndrome. Most went through it. Then, of course, came the grief. It took over everything. Then one day, while she was out doing the weekly shopping in Clare Hall, her first big panic attack happened. The shopping mall began to vibrate. One minute she was standing in Tesco trying to decide whether she fancied real butter or low-low, when something shifted. Inside of her. And around her. The lights that lined the cool fridge grew too bright and jarred her eyes. She remembered stepping back from it, dropping the butter onto the floor, a dull thud resounded as it made impact. Her vision then blurred and floaties danced around her eyes, making her head spin. It was like being sea-sick and hungover all at once.

She had to get out of the store. She walked, no, she ran out, leaving her full trolly behind her. She could feel the eyes of passerbys staring at her. Just another mad woman on the loose. She tried not to stumble as she felt the world spin and turn on its axis, shoving her from one side of the shopping centre to the other. Her stomach then cramped up and she searched around her for a bin. And, like a drunk in the street, she threw up into a grey plastic bin, much to the disgust of the rest of the shoppers. She could hear them judging, pointing.

‘She’s off her head!’

‘Disgraceful at this hour.’

‘The shame of it. I’m scarlet for her.’

And then, with those endorsements ringing in her ears, for the first time in her life, Rea passed out.

That was her first panic attack.

And the beginning of the end.