Read The Story of Before Online
Authors: Susan Stairs
The Story of Before (26 page)
He whizzed past me, banging his elbow off my schoolbag and knocking me off balance. I toppled against the wall, scraping my hand, and yelled after him, ‘Watch where you’re going,
will you! You don’t own the bloody path!’
That evening, I took Kev for a walk down to the bottom of the hill to wait for Dad. It was a Friday and he’d told Mam he was finishing up early and would be home in time for dinner. When
he saw the car, Kev got all excited. I got in the back and Dad sat Kev on his knee so he could ‘drive’ us home. As we turned slowly into the estate, I saw Shayne sitting lengthways on
the O’Deas’ wall with his back pressed up against the gate pillar. He was munching a packet of crisps and held a can of Fanta between his knees. He barely raised his head but I could
tell he was watching us.
We crawled along, Kev all delighted he was holding the steering wheel and Dad going
‘vroom vroom’
into his ear. Shayne lifted his eyes as we approached, but I don’t
think he even saw me sitting in the back of the car. His gaze was fixed on Kev – a cold, blank, scary stare.
Dad was about to say something when Shayne grabbed the can from between his knees, took aim and fired it at the windscreen of our car. It clattered against the glass, sending bubbly orange
splashes all over the bonnet. Dad got such a fright that he pushed his foot down hard on the brake and Kev bumped his forehead on the rim of the steering wheel.
‘What the . . . ? Christ alshagginmighty!’ Dad shouted.
Kev screamed, instant tears flooding down his face. Dad gave him to me and I tried to comfort him, stroking his cheek and cuddling him tight. I expected Shayne would hop on his bike and
disappear. But when I looked, he was still there, eating his crisps and staring at Kev as he snuggled into my chest.
‘I’ll wring his bloody neck,’ Dad said. He waved his fist at Shayne. ‘I’ll wring your shaggin’ neck, you gurrier! Do you hear me?’
I couldn’t believe Dad was still sitting in the car. ‘Are you not going to get out?’ I asked.
He shook his head and drove off, breathing heavily down his nose. It was only when we got to our house that he spoke. ‘I don’t want to see you hanging around with him any
more.’ His voice was low and even. ‘It’s gone far enough. Stay away from him. That’s an order.’
That Monday, I got the letter.
Mam handed me the light blue envelope when I came in from school. I think she was as curious as I was to see who it could be from. My name and address had been written with a fountain pen in
what Mrs Lally would’ve described as ‘beautiful copperplate script’. I rarely got letters. In my whole life, I’d probably only got a handful.
‘I’ll open it in my room,’ I told Mam.
She was hovering over my shoulder like a fly. ‘Ah, sure open it here. I’ll make us a nice cup of tea while you read it.’
I didn’t wait around to argue. I took the stairs two at a time, my schoolbag still on my back.
The letter was from David.
Written in the ‘beautiful script’ on five lined pages the same colour as the envelope.
Dear Ruth,
I’ve been meaning to write for ages but there’s so much to do every day here it’s hard to find the time. I’m writing this during study. Hope I don’t get
caught (!) Brother Cornelius is looking down and I’m supposed to be learning my Latin verbs. We have ANOTHER test tomorrow (aaagh). It’s not so bad here though. In fact, I
actually like it a lot more than Grangemount. I’ve made real friends too. I share my dorm with two boys from Cork and one from Tipperary and we all get along very well.
I’ve been thinking a lot about everyone and I have a few things I want to say. Things I probably should have said before but it’s easier to put them in a letter. I know you
were blamed because I was sent down here but it wasn’t really your fault. They should have told me before. My parents, I mean. About being adopted. I know how you found out and I know
Shayne pretended I already knew (he told me) but I would’ve been sent down here anyway. My parents had been thinking about it for ages. They don’t like Shayne. They were never
that happy about us being friends. They were always saying he was bad news and I used to tell them they were wrong. Shayne’s been my friend for all the time I’ve lived in
Hillcourt Rise. When we were small we used to pretend we were brothers. He shouldn’t have said he already knew about me being adopted but I think he was upset that you found out about
it before he did. I used to always feel bad for him because he didn’t know who his dad was and when he found out that I didn’t know who my real dad was either, he thought that
maybe I’d been keeping it a secret from him. I was mad at first when I found out from you about being adopted but it’s OK now. In fact, I’m glad because it made my parents
make up their minds to send me down here. And I don’t have to worry about covering for anyone when I’m here. Because that’s what I had to do all the time for Shayne.
Remember all the stuff about when I broke my wrist? Well, to tell the truth here and now, you were right. It wasn’t an accident. But you were wrong when you told my parents that I did
it deliberately. That wasn’t what happened.
What happened was that Shayne pushed me.
I was climbing the tree quicker than he was and I called him a fairy or something and he got mad and he pushed me.
I pretended to my mother and father that I fell. And then when Valerie asked me if I’d done it deliberately, I never denied it and that was how that spread all around the place
and I suppose I liked the way that all of you thought I’d done it myself. I know it was stupid to cover for him but he made me do it and I was afraid if I told the truth he’d get
into serious trouble and be sent away. And most of all, I didn’t ever want my parents to be able to say they were right about him.
Mam poked her head round my door. ‘You all right?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. I’m fine.’
‘So? Are you not going to tell me who it’s from?’ She was putting on a real cheerful voice like she wasn’t that interested when really she was dying to know.
‘David.’
‘Oh. I see. That’s nice . . .’ She was waiting for more.
‘Just telling me about his new school and stuff.’
‘Well? Does he like it?’
‘Maybe when I get to read it all I can tell you,’ I said, frowning.
Her head disappeared and she went back downstairs.
It’s only because I’m away from Hillcourt Rise that I can see how stupid I was. And I know you think I’m weird and I’m sorry I scared you that day I took the
pram from outside the shops, but I only did it because he made me. He said if I didn’t maybe one of the twins might fall into the bonfire or something and I was scared. I just did
everything he said. And I always thought that if I told on him, it would just make everything worse.
I’m only telling you now because I think you should know. Just be careful because he might start trying to do the same thing with you. AND DON’T TELL HIM I TOLD YOU ANY OF
THIS. I KNOW I CAN TRUST YOU.
You can write back to me if you want but it’s all right if you don’t want to, I won’t mind.
Vale ( = goodbye in Latin) for now.
David (O’Dea)
P.S. I wrote out the lyrics to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ (Queen) for you. Shayne told me you liked it. They’re the actual correct words. One of the fifth
years got them from a song words magazine. It’s good to see the actual correct words because where they say ‘Bismillah’ I always thought they were saying ‘Wish me
luck’ (!)
I opened out the separate sheet – the double centre pages of a copybook – where he’d written the song words. I read them through then put them back in the envelope. My chest
was sizzling inside, the heat rising up through my neck and all the way to my face. I looked at myself in the dressing table mirror and saw my cheeks were faming red. The silence in the room was
suffocating. I felt like I was caught in the middle of a bunch of balloons.
I didn’t believe him. It was all lies.
There was no way Shayne would’ve pushed him. He wasn’t that bad. And David was hardly that desperate that he’d have covered for him. No one would be so stupid.
It was all a big joke. I could picture him, grinning all the while he was writing, with Brother whoever-it-was sitting at the top of the hall smiling down at him, thinking he was writing out his
Latin verbs. David would’ve enjoyed that, fooling a teacher into believing he was such a goody-goody when really he was a sly and spiteful liar.
And the way he started off the letter all happy-go-lucky like I’d be interested in how many friends he had and all that stuff. Real friends, he said. I couldn’t care less. And why
would I want the words to the song anyway? I could’ve written them out myself if I did. I knew them off by heart. I didn’t need him to be doing it for me.
And then trying to convince me it was Shayne who was being mean to him when it was really the other way around. And what made him think I’d believe that Shayne had forced him to take Kev
from outside Mealy’s? I’d seen his face that day. I knew what he was like. He thought he knew everything, but I didn’t believe a word he’d said. The way the letter was
written didn’t even sound like him. It was far too . . . normal. I tore it into pieces, shoved it back in the envelope along with the song words and hid them at the back of my underwear
drawer.
At dinner that evening, Sandra was killed quizzing me about the letter. ‘Mam says you got a letter from David O’Dea. Why would he be writing to you? What did he say? Does he hate
Clonrath? Is he—’
‘Stop,’ I said. ‘It was just a letter. He probably only wrote it because he’s so bored he didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Bored? I thought he’d be doing loads of stuff!’
‘Well, it is called boarding school, don’t forget,’ Mel said, laughing at his own joke.
‘But why did he write to
you
?’ Sandra asked me.
‘How should I know?’
‘Unless . . . unless you wrote to him first? In secret . . .’
‘Why would I do that?’
She shrugged. ‘Only you’d know that.’
‘Well, for your information, I didn’t. OK? And you’re just jealous you didn’t get a letter.’
‘Yeah, I’m really jealous weirdo O’Dea wrote to you. I’ve far more exciting things to be concerned about.’
‘If you’re that uninterested why were you asking me all the questions?’
She sniffed, tucked her hair behind her ears and stuffed her mouth with a large forkful of macaroni cheese. We had Dad to thank for such a tasty dinner. Since he’d started the job in
Kildare, Mam had begun making us things he would’ve turned his nose up at. She cooked a dinner especially for him when he came home later – usually pork chops or a mixed grill, which he
ate on his own with a pot of tea and a tower of bread and butter.
‘If Ruth doesn’t want to tell us what was in the letter, that’s her own business,’ Mam said. That was a laugh, seeing as she’d been trying to find out herself
earlier on.
‘Yeah,’ said Mel, sniggering. ‘It’s your own private business, isn’t it? Just between you and O’Dea. Maybe it was a love letter. Wooooh.’
‘You could be right there,’ Sandra agreed. ‘Why else would she be keeping it all to herself?’
‘Now stop that, the two of you,’ Mam said, clearly annoyed. ‘Leave your sister alone. None of that nonsense.’
‘I just thought it’d be nice to know how he was getting on,’ Sandra sulked. ‘I’ve always wanted to know what boarding school is like.’
‘Well, keep up your teasing and you might find out sooner than you think,’ Mam told her, getting up from the table. ‘Now, you’re on the washing up if I’m not
mistaken, miss, so make sure you do a good job, all right? And no messing.’ She lifted Kev from the highchair and brought him upstairs for his bath.
As soon as Mam was out of the kitchen, the others started again. Sandra kept wondering out loud about what had been ‘going on’ between David and me, and how had she not spotted it?
Mel went through every possible reason he could think of for David writing, watching my face for some sort of reaction to each thing he suggested. I ignored them both and got on with the drying
up.
Later, I went up to my room and addressed an envelope to David. I took out my ladybird-patterned notepaper and thought about what to say to him. But every time I had an idea that sounded right,
a second later it sounded stupid. In the end, I decided not to reply at all. The last thing I wanted was David under his blankets at night, re-reading my letter by torchlight, sniggering at how
he’d managed to stir up trouble even when he wasn’t anywhere near Hillcourt Rise. I had a better idea.
I had to talk to Shayne.
I found him outside Mealy’s the following afternoon. He’d propped his bike against the wall and was standing beside it, one foot resting on a pedal while he messily
licked his way through an Iceberger. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth when he saw me.
‘I want to talk to you,’ I said.
His tongue skimmed his lips for smears of ice-cream. He stuffed the last of the Iceberger into his mouth and began wheeling his bike away. I walked beside him, noticing he was almost a head
taller than me now. We passed Boylan’s and rounded the corner into the lane. When we were halfway up he stopped.