beats per minute (5 page)

‘He needs me. And I want to be there for him. But I want
time for my own stuff too. Oh, sometimes I just
wish
-‘

She stopped midsentence and without warning her eyes
hardened, focusing on something out of Raegan’s view. 

‘What?’ Raegan asked, shifting in her seat and scanning the
crowd. ‘What’s up?’

‘Don’t look!’ Marie remonstrated, so sharply that Raegan
immediately turned back.  ‘Sorry. I’ll tell you a minute.’

Tensely, Marie leaned forward as if to place her glass on
the table, motioning for Raegan to do the same.

‘He’s here.’ She hissed.
‘Dafydd.
My ex.
  Crap!’

‘Oh no,’ Raegan whispered back.
‘Where?’

‘Over there. No, don’t look yet! Now, turn your head to the
right. Not so fast or it’ll be really obvious! He’s at the edge of the dance
floor, the one in the pink shirt.’

Raegan inclined her head slightly and glanced out from underneath
her eyelashes. She clocked him straight away. Wearing a baby pink shirt,
low-riding jeans and pointed brown shoes, he obviously thought a lot of
himself. Raegan had to admit that he
was
good-looking: stocky, muscular,
with dark curly hair and big brown eyes. But the waves of arrogance rolling off
him made her lip curl.

‘He looks good, doesn’t he?
Creep.’
Marie pushed her plate of fries away untouched, colour rising in her cheeks.
Then she spotted something that made her eyes bulge.

‘What?’ Raegan asked anxiously.

‘He’s brought
her.
Candace. The one he cheated on me
with.’

Raegan touched her arm sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry. You
okay?’

Marie wasn’t listening. ‘And I bet afterwards he’ll be
taking her to the Shack. Well, good luck to her if she can stand it there. It’s
a mouldy, abandoned old house, for god’s sake! In the middle of Lydgale Forest!
But they all think
it’s
so-o-o cool.
Losers.’

‘Look, shall we just go?’ Raegan, uncomfortably familiar
with the situation, hated to see her friend upset.

 
‘Where?’
Marie laughed, welsh
accent thickening with sarcasm. ‘That’s the problem with this town, babes.
There isn’t anywhere
to
go. ’

She slammed her glass down with enough force to make the
table rattle. When she looked up, her dark eyes were blazing. Raegan felt a
sense of foreboding.

‘Come on. Let’s hit the bar.’

***

After this declaration, Marie was on a quest for oblivion
and equally determined to take Raegan with her. The first time she ordered two
glasses of wine, it was a thrill; sipping at the illicit, cool liquid, the
alcohol burning her throat, Raegan felt as if everything was coming into a new,
sharp focus. She was finally awake. With each gulp she was raising two fingers
to Bridey, and to Con, and everyone at her old school who had thought she was
such a goodie goodie.

But then one glass turned into another, and then another,
and then a whole bottle had been ordered and drained – and mostly by Marie. The
rollercoaster pace set by her friend was exciting, and perhaps it would have
been easier to just go with it; but almost as soon as she had finished her
first glass Raegan felt uneasy. She was underage. They both were. She didn’t
want to give herself away so she decided to focus on Marie, watching out for
her friend and drinking as slowly as possible.  She could hardly leave
her. The more Marie drank, the more outrageous she became: dancing
provocatively whilst pretending she was completely unaware of Dafydd’s
presence, unhooking so many buttons down the top of her dress that she was in
danger of showing the room her little butterfly tattoo (Raegan had not been
given the option – Marie had flashed her cleavage in the toilets) and leaving
Raegan breathless, unable to keep up, catapulted into the here and now.

They were attracting a lot of attention, and Raegan, unused
to the spotlight, was not sure how to feel. Soon she became aware that two guys
were paying them more attention than most. Everywhere they moved to, these two
would also appear, hovering on the fringes. They seemed content to wait. It was
odd but not exactly unpleasant. As Raegan stood with Marie at the bar,
determinedly ordering herself a pint of tap water and not another wine, she
spotted them again. Surreptitiously she moved closer to Marie. ‘Do you know
those blokes over there? I think they’re following us.’

Marie turned to her, her brown eyes shining but unfocused.
‘What? What you talking about? There are lads everywhere.’

‘Those ones,’ Raegan tried to make herself heard over the
loud music.
‘Opposite us.
Older.
And they have really good… hair.’ One of them caught her eye and smiled, and
Raegan felt a pleasing tingle of heat sweep through her. He was very
good-looking.

 Marie turned her head to look, and then began to wave
enthusiastically, much to Raegan’s alarm. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I know them,’ Marie crowed. ‘They were on the pier earlier.
And
they were totally checking me out. This is
amazing,
they must be in their twenties! This is it, Rae! We’re in.’

The two guys were now approaching and Raegan’s nerves went
into overdrive. Marie, by contrast, blossomed; as Raegan pushed her hair out of
her face artlessly, Marie smoothed down her outfit and leaned seductively
against the bar. And as the men drew nearer, it became clearer, too, just how
gorgeous they were. Though one was tall and dark, and the other fair and small,
everything about them was fine: from the curtains of their hair, gleaming under
the multicoloured lights, to their delicate features, which would not have been
out of place in the classical artworks Raegan had never appreciated. Here, in
breathing flesh and bone, the sight was amazing. They had to be the
best-looking men Raegan had ever seen.

Marie took the lead. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ she
asked, smiling coyly. ‘Oh yeah, you were down the docks today, right? I wanted
to introduce myself but was in a mad rush, just couldn’t stop, you know.’

‘How fortuitous that we should meet
again.’
The taller gentleman took Marie’s proffered hand. At first,
Raegan thought he was going to kiss it, because there was something old
fashioned about him; instead, he clasped her palm for a brief spell, and then
shook it gently. Raegan was glad – the moment would have been ruined by a
cheesy gesture. ‘My name is Philip.’

‘Marie,’
Her
friend giggled, then
turned her flirtatious brown eyes to Philip’s companion, sliding them over to
Raegan momentarily and back again. ‘And this is Raegan.
Pleased
to meet you both.’

Raegan nodded at Philip and turned to his companion, who was
looking at her lazily. ‘I’m Raegan,’ she began, her mouth suddenly dry.

‘Christian.’ He did not offer his hand. Instead, his eyes,
which were the cold blue of the morning sea, continued to study her, a smile
tugging at the corners of his lips.

‘We have reserved one of the VIP tables,’ she heard Philip
say. Her eyes were still locked with Christian’s. The pounding beat of the
music was originating from inside of her, quite without warning. ‘We’d be
delighted if you could join us.’

She couldn’t tell if it was attraction, or the heady mix of
the alcohol, but it was overwhelming: so sudden and so strange. She could only
nod dumbly in response to Philip’s request, and, accepting the pressure of
Christian’s arm on her back, follow.

***

They sat pressed together in a shadowy alcove. For how long,
she could not remember afterwards. She was left only with a faint imprint of
registering that her body did not belong to her anymore. It moved sluggishly,
and actions felt unconnected to thoughts. The movements at the table washed
over her, like a dream.

And then, without warning, she was suddenly in the here and
now – where she had been in those lost seconds, she could not tell - and the
world slammed back into misty focus. Feeling a bit queasy, she looked around
for Marie. She was not there.

‘Where’s Marie?’ The words seemed to take a long time to
emerge.

‘Dancing with Philip.’
Christian
moved closer to her. ‘Just over there, look.’ Raegan didn’t dare move her head;
the room was starting to spin. He laughed.
‘Oh dear.
Too much to drink?’

Raegan, still focusing on the table top, nodded. ‘Please,
don’t tell anyone.’

‘Oh, do not be embarrassed.’ Christian’s arm felt heavy
around her shoulder. How long had it been there? ‘It happens to us all.’

‘No, it’s not that.’ He was stroking her shoulder now, the
long, elegant fingers brushing the neck of her dress. ‘Marie bought the drinks.
I don’t want to get her in trouble.’

‘Never fear. I have no wish to upset my beautiful companion.
You are no trouble at all.’

‘You don’t understand. I’m only fifteen. I’m not allowed to
drink.’

The coolness of her skin alerted her that the stroking had
now ceased, as had the pressure of his arm around her neck. A hazy sense of
embarrassment flooded through her, and her dress had slid revealingly off her
shoulder; she pulled it up.

 When her eyes found him, Christian was further away
than she had expected. His face was impassive.

‘The diner will be closing soon. It is best that you leave
before then.’

His words rang alarm bells in her head. Closing soon? But
that would mean it was nearly two o’clock! How could that be true? With
considered effort, she struggled to her feet, and clutched at her handbag. It
was like moving through water. She scanned the dancefloor. She could not see
Marie anywhere.

Turning back to the booth, her question died on her lips.
The alcove was deserted. She was alone.

The enormous cake wobbled slightly as Bridey set it down,
studying the frosted surface anxiously. The tiered construction alternated
layers of vanilla sponge with raspberry cream and a rich chocolate sponge with
fudge centre, all covered with delicately piped, pale pink icing. Her concerns
were unfounded; it was a mouth-watering masterpiece. But Bridey stood in front
of it for a long while. She was determined that everything should be perfect
today.

When Con returned from picking up the morning paper some
time later, Bridey was suddenly very thankful for those snatched, precious
moments of peace. Her mind felt so full. She supposed it was something she was
meant to get used to; she was older and her brain was now like an overstuffed
closet, brimming with all the baggage she had accumulated over the years.
Keeping secrets, never easy, seemed such a struggle now. Age had made her more
easily forgetful but most of all she had simply lost patience with it: looking
back over her life, she felt acutely that the sacrifices, the burden of
suppression and the loss of Joseph, had not been worth the misery. She wanted
to embrace her granddaughter, not continually keep her at arm’s length for fear
of what she might let slip. It was the only point on which she and Con had not
seen eye to eye for the past decade or so.

At least he had agreed not to punish Raegan for the previous
evening’s mishaps and Bridey was able to stick to the original plan: a
home-cooked celebratory luncheon, just the three of them (which had been
delayed quite a bit as the birthday girl showed no signs of surfacing after her
late night); though Con expressed misgivings as to whether Raegan’s sixteenth
birthday was something to celebrate. And though Bridey did not falter
throughout her festive preparations – rolling out pastry, icing the cake and
wrapping gifts with the same deft decisiveness - she shared her husband’s
reservations. They might not agree on how it should be achieved but they were
equal in their determination to keep their granddaughter safe – which was
becoming increasingly difficult as she blossomed and they aged. And cutting
through it all was the ever-present sense of absence; Bridey’s heart gave a great
lurch as she considered how differently today might have been... if only...

A hand on her shoulder interrupted these maudlin thoughts.
It was heavy but comforting, silently attesting that she was not alone in her
grief. She gripped it with one of her own.
After a moment,
Con moved to stand beside her.

‘Sixteen already.’

‘Hard to believe.’

‘And yet so easy,’ Bridey said sadly. ‘She seems so much
older, sometimes.’

‘She’s been through a lot.’

‘Too much.
I wish I could give her
it all back. But loss… changes a person.
Steals the years
away.
The innocence.
It all gets taken,
somehow.’

‘She looked every inch the bright young thing when I picked
her up last night,’ he said softly.
‘Though I could’ve
strangled her for being so careless.’

He sounded tired; beaten down, somehow. But before Bridey
had a chance to ask what was on his mind, the door opened with a tentative
creak and the object of their ruminations stepped into the room.

Raegan, still dressed in her baggy Eeyore pyjamas, looked decidedly
unbright (her complexion was pasty and puffy as Bridey’s uncooked piecrust, in
fact). She hung her head.

‘Morning.’

Con grunted and turned away as if he could not bring himself
to look at her. Bridey had no such reticence; rushing forward, she enveloped
her granddaughter in a warm, floury embrace.
‘Oh, happy
birthday, darling girl!
Take a seat there next to your grandda. Lunch
won’t be a moment. Would you like some fizzy stuff? We were going to mix it
with orange juice…’ She took in the greenness of Raegan’s complexion and for
the first time her smile wavered.
‘Maybe not just yet, eh?
How about a nice coffee instead?’

Raegan nodded gratefully.

After pouring both Raegan and Con a huge cup of
freshly-brewed coffee, Bridey bustled off to finish her final preparations.
Raegan took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid and avoided her grandfather’s eye,
all the while trying not to throw up. What
had
she been drinking? She
felt awful. Getting out of bed had not been easy; in fact she’d nearly given up
completely when faced with the steep, rickety staircase, which seemed to go in
and out of focus as she crawled down it. She’d slept for ages but didn’t even
remember getting into bed. She knew she had dreamed, though; sweaty night-time
terrors full of people with hoods and timepieces held in the air. Typical – the
first dream she could remember in months and it was a random, wine-soaked
nightmare!

In fact the dream was less hazy than the end of the evening
itself. She remembered meeting Philip and Christian, the four of them dancing,
and then… nothing.
Blackness, until that final conversation
in the booth, Christian’s arm tightly around her shoulder.
She flushed
when she remembered admitting that she was underage and how he had suddenly
lost interest.  She must’ve looked like a stupid little girl to him.

Marie obviously hadn’t had that problem with Philip or she
wouldn’t have left. Raegan frowned. It stung that Marie had ditched her; why
didn’t she even say goodbye? Raegan wouldn’t have tried to tag along. And if
she had known Marie was leaving she could’ve at least got a key from her and
stayed the night at the Vallences’ as planned. Instead she had staggered around
the unfamiliar streets for ages trying to find a phone box so she could call
her grandfather. And then…inwardly, she quailed. She didn’t want to remember
what happened next. She was sure Con had been furious by the time he came to
fetch her.

If only she hadn’t had to call him! If only she had been
able to find her phone and call Marie instead. But without her phone she was
buggered: Ramsey Island was the only number she knew off by heart. Oh, that
bloody phone, she was always putting it down without thinking! If it turned out
to be lost for good it would be the final cherry on top of an awful night.

Her head was pounding.

‘Cards for you,’ Bridey trilled, setting a pitcher of orange
juice on the table. Raegan gulped a glass down straight away; her throat felt
like someone had stuck a hoover down it and sucked the last drop of moisture
out. The cool sweetness was heaven. Feeling a bit better, pleased to be
distracted from her confusing
thoughts,
she reached
for the pastel coloured envelopes.

‘Happy birthday from everyone at the Woodstead,’ Raegan
read.
‘Ah, how cute!
It’s a card from my old school,
gran.’ She held it up so that Bridey could see all the signatures; even Con
craned his head for a quick look.
Instantly cheered, she
turned the gaudy purple object over and over in her hands, grinning widely.
‘What time did you say lunch was? I’m starving.’

‘Not long now. But first…’ Bridey wiped her hands on her
apron before pulling up a seat beside Con. She and her husband exchanged a
quick glance. ‘Here’s a little something.
For your
sixteenth.’
From under the table came a small red parcel.
‘Happy Birthday.’
Two mugs were raised in a shaky toast.

Raegan was touched. ‘Oh, Grandma... you really didn’t have
to –‘

‘It’s not just from me.’ Bridey’s voice was tight and high,
as if stuck in her throat. ‘It’s from both of us. Actually, it’s been in your
Grandda’s family for years. Go on, open it!’

Raegan handled the package with great care. Her grandparents
were watching her nervously, almost as if holding their breath; the contents
were obviously very important to them. Curiosity piqued, Raegan unsealed the
flap of paper at the end, and ran her thumbs down to free the little box
inside, sliding it out gently. Bridey nodded at her eagerly, urging her to
continue; but the mother of pearl clasp was so delicate that she was almost
afraid to handle it. Slowly she eased it open.

Nestling on the black velvet interior was a fine gold chain,
threaded through a translucent pendant carved out of metal and glass. Cradling
it in her hands, she gently tipped the necklace out onto her palm. It felt
warm, which was unexpected, and strangely
right;
as if it belonged to
her. The glass globe housed a tiny hourglass, perfectly visible within its case
and skilfully crafted. The hourglass was tipped with black on both top and
bottom, gleaming darkly from within the glass case, and contained tiny topaz
beads which appeared frozen in motion; the time had only just begun to tick
down, it seemed.

‘Oh, thank you,’ Raegan gasped. ‘It’s wonderful!’ She put it
on straight away. The pendant hung between her cleavage, tucked underneath her
shirt and resting against her heart.

 ‘Like I said, it’s a family heirloom,’ Bridey said,
watching her with an unreadable expression. ‘Your grandfather’s clan in Galway
placed great importance on these trinkets, a bit like the people of Claddagh
with their rings.’

Uncontrollably, Raegan’s eyes flicked to
Con
.
He cleared his throat in answer. ‘When girls and boys reached sixteen it was
tradition for the craftsmen of the village to make these specially; the clan
strongly believed there were mystical properties in the stones that would
protect the young adults from harm as they left their parents’ domain. It’s a
sort of talisman, if you like.’

Raegan’s hands had moved, quite unconsciously, to grip the
pendant. It felt reassuringly heavy in her palm.

‘You may think we’re old fools, Raegan, but we’d like you to
promise always to wear this; Con really believes that it’ll bring you good
fortune. Lord knows, we’ve had enough bad luck to last us a lifetime. We
couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you.’ Bridey’s eyes were glistening; embarrassed,
dabbing at her face with her apron, she pushed her chair back with an abrupt
squeak and hurried back to the kitchen. The clanging of pots and pans soon
filled the room.

Raegan was left with Con; but after seeing Bridey’s tears
she couldn’t meet his eye. A mounting sense of shame prickled at her skin.

‘I don’t deserve this – though I guess after last night you
think I really need it,’ Raegan said in a low tone. ‘I don’t know what I was
thinking! I’m so sorry-‘

‘Enough.’ Con’s voice was quiet but brooked no argument.
‘Your gran has gone to a lot of trouble to make this a happy day. Don’t spoil
it.’

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

‘You were reckless and stupid. But you’re safe, and that’s
all that matters. And it will never happen again.’ There was no question in
Con’s voice. He still wouldn’t look at her.

‘No,’ she whispered.

Suddenly it was all too much. Her head was throbbing, she
was nauseous, and now a pain in her chest – not physical – joined in. The room
was closing in on her. Raegan felt a desperate need to catch her breath.

She stood up in a rush and banged her knee on the table.
Unbeknownst to her Con’s eyes followed.

‘Just going to wash up before lunch,’ she
announced,
her voice over-bright and unnaturally high.

On the other side of the room, Bridey looked up from where
she was crouched, peering into the oven. ‘I’ll be dishing up in a wee while,’
she said in surprise.

‘Won’t be long.’

***

The mattress creaked loudly as Raegan flopped against it.

After a moment she opened her eyes, hands fidgeting idly
with the pendant around her neck. She couldn’t bring herself to hurry back
downstairs. Her grandparents meant well, she knew that. But sometimes it was
like she couldn’t breathe around them. Years of separation and a Joseph-sized
elephant in the room seemed to suck up all the air. Throw drunkenness and
missed curfews into the mix and it was quite a party.

Party.
The word flashed across her
brain as it had when she read it earlier. Suddenly remembering, she reached
into the pocket of her dressing gown for the card she had tucked away at the
breakfast table; a bright blue envelope with ‘time to party!’ embossed on the
seal. For some reason she hadn’t wanted to open it in front of her
grandparents. Maybe she was too scared of what she would find inside.

 Her heart picked up speed slightly. Grow up, she
chided herself, trying to ignore the fact that her hangover seemed to have
returned with a vengeance; it was like the room was going in and out of focus
in time with her heart. After a beat her eyes found the envelope again. She
tore it open.

‘
Happy Birthday, Rae!
Sixteen today, getting old now.
Lol!

We hope U R having a brill day. Wish we could be there.
Invite us soon?
Seriously.
Miss you loads!!!’

The words were surrounded by drawings of balloons and little
stick figures. Then there were two familiar but different signatures, the one
with hearts above the
‘i’s
and the other all joined up
and neat: ‘
Annie and Bex xxxxxxx’.

Raegan couldn’t swallow down the hard lump in her throat.
The three of them had spent every birthday together for the past decade but
this year she hadn’t even been sure they would remember.

 A rush of warmth thudded into her belly and suddenly
the months of silence seemed stupid, pointless. Why was she worrying about
making new friends when she had them? Energised, she pushed up off her elbows
and leaned over to the bedside table, intending to grab her phone and fire off
a thank you text. And then she remembered she had no idea where her phone was.

Her head began to pound again and she almost wailed in
frustration. Why did she have to lose her phone today, of all days? The last
thing she felt like doing was wasting her birthday on the phone to Orange,
explaining that – yet again - she needed a replacement simcard. But maybe there
was still a chance, she thought hopefully. The fact that she couldn’t remember
where she had lost the phone meant that, in
theory,
it
could just be lying around in her room somewhere, waiting to be found…