“What do you mean?”
“He’s another girl’s boyfriend. Everyone’s going mad.” She nods toward her sister. “Maeve knows.”
I look at Maeve, waiting.Christ, what a mess. I have no love for Nika, but this is too much. And now I’ll have to text Celeste to alert her about the pile-on, to keep an eye on Nika…
Maeve sighs. “Yeah. Everyone in our year knows who’s going out with who, and Nika isn’t going out with anyone. So when your message went around, people from school were wondering who the guy was. And they did some digging and worked out it was Zach, Ariana’s boyfriend. Ariana is this other girl in our year, who’s also Nika’s friend. Andthat,” Maeve says, “didnotgo down well at all.”
21
Susan
Friday
An hour later, we’re at the kitchen table, halfway through the takeaway and all the way through the wine. I’m holding it together, smiling and nodding while, inside, I’m dying. Jon goes out to the utility room to get another bottle of Malbec and some Cokes for the girls. Leesa’s telling us that she and Maeve are going shopping in Kildare Village tomorrow and Greta’s rolling her eyes. I’m barely listening.
“Oh, guess who I bumped into when I was there last week,” Leesa says to Greta. “Your new friend Phoebe. She says hi.”
Something in Leesa’s tone makes me tune in properly to the conversation.
Greta is nodding but doesn’t respond, wondering, perhaps, if this is just a ploy to stop her fast-fashion lecture.
“Who’s Phoebe?” I ask.
Leesa’s answer comes with a conspiratorial nod. “Greta’s friend she met in her hiking club, who also happens to be”—she lowers her voice and glances left to right with exaggerated care—“Albie Byrne’s sister.”
Ah. Inwardly, I squirm, and glance toward the utility room. For Jonand for me, Albie Byrne—or, more to the point, the story behind how we know his name—is an awkward topic.
Albie Byrne was the driver of the other car in Greta’s accident. Not his fault, not hers, just bad luck and ice on the road—made worse by potholes and a failure on the council’s part to salt the route. Greta got a good settlement from the council; Albie didn’t look for anything out of it, but then again, all he suffered was a broken ankle. He’s a local councillor now; his big, round head beams down at us from lamp-posts around Blackrock, but ten years ago, when the accident happened, he was just plain old Albie Byrne.
Out in the utility room, Jon is still clinking around getting ice for the Cokes, and I’m quietly glad he’s not here for this conversation. Greta’s accident is a difficult subject, one we avoid. She shouldn’t have been out driving that night, and it’s down to Jon and me that she was. I was giving a maths lesson to a Leaving Cert student in Carrickmines, and Jon was supposed to collect me afterward. We only had one car—still do—officially, because we’re trying to do better for the environment; unofficially, because I hate driving and will walk or bus anywhere to avoid it. But that night ten years ago, Jon forgot he was picking me up and went for drinks after work. When he saw my text to say I was ready to be collected, he rang Greta to ask her to do it instead. And that’s when she had her crash. She never blamed Jon, never blamed me, but whenever the topic comes up, it still makes me sick inside. As for Jon—well, I guess I always assumed he felt just as bad, and that’s why we don’t discuss it. Through the filter of my discovery today, I wonder…Maybe he’s just coasting through life, not giving his part in Greta’s accident a second thought.
Leesa is still waiting for a reaction, nodding meaningfully, as though this connection between Phoebe and Albie is serious gossip. It’s not though. Everyone knows everyone around here: Albie Byrne is a former team-mate of Warren Geary’s, and Celeste went to the same school as Leesa and Greta, and Leesa’s husband, Samir, works for the same engineering firmas Warren. So Greta becoming friends with Albie Byrne’s sister is not the big deal Leesa would like to infer. She loves gossip though, and I can’t blame the girl for trying to drum something out of nothing.
“Phoebe was saying she’s just booked a ski trip with Albie and his fiancée in January,” Leesa adds. “Verbier. They go every year, apparently. I googled the resort. It looksamazing. Then I googled how much.” Her eyes widen. “Greta, you should cozy up to Phoebe and wrangle an invite.” She grins, then stops. “But seriously, is it not weird being friends with her when her brother basically crippled you?”
I wince.
Greta shakes her head. “The accident wasn’t Albie’s fault, you know that.”
My cheeks heat up.It wasn’t Albie’s fault, but itwas, to a degree, mine and Jon’s.A seemingly small action with huge repercussions.
Jon arrives back with the drinks and I quickly change the subject.
“How’s the summer going, Maeve? Big year from September with the Leaving Cert ahead?”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me of school,” she says, forking more rice on to her plate.
“Oh, wait,” Jon says. “Isn’t the Geary daughter in your class, Maeve?”
Maeve nods.
“The bratty daughter,” Aoife pipes up, grinning delightedly. “Sheisa brat. You’re not wrong.”
I throw her what is supposed to be an admonishing look, though my heart’s not in it, then glance at Maeve, who is beside her, still engrossed in her food. They’re like twins with their long dark hair and deep brown eyes and White Fox hoodies. Maeve’s purple beanie and Aoife’s glasses make up the only discernible differences and I’m reminded again of another pair of sisters, Aimee and Venetia.God. Imagine losing your sister.
“So what’s the story with the boyfriend and the bunking-off?” Jon asks me. “I’m guessing not a motive for threatening texts or smashing windows?”
Everyone looks at me, though Greta and Leesa already know the story.
