‘OK,’ he said, smiling. And he had much to think about when it came to his date with Orla.
39
JACQUES’S HOME – THE OUTSKIRTS OF SAINT-CHAMBÉRY
Calm. That was how you got things done. It was no good eyeing up the coffee machine like it was an adversary. She was going to make friends with it. A smile, a gentle touch as she put a cup under the spout, a peaceful press of its buttons and…
The angry grinding started and Orla recoiled, jabbing a finger at ‘cancel’.
‘Oh my God!’ Erin exclaimed, laughing. ‘I wish I’d been filming then!’
‘Why doesn’t this appliance like anyone but you?’ Orla asked, frustrated.
‘What can I say?’ Erin said, getting up from her seat at the kitchen table. ‘It has taste. Do you want me to help?’
‘Steady now, Erin,’ Orla replied. ‘You’re almost sounding like someone who wants to lend a hand. Will your nails survive the manual labour?’
‘If you carry on taking the piss I’ll carry on letting you fight for your caffeine fix,’ Erin said, hands on hips.
‘Well,’ Orla said. ‘I was going to makeyoua coffee. I found some syrup at the back of the cupboard and?—’
‘You found syrup?’ She took strides forward.
‘Yes.’
‘Wait,’ Erin said, curtailing her enthusiasm. ‘This is bribery and corruption, right? This is you trying to make up for being a bitch about Burim.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I was a bitch but?—’
‘Oh, what’s the point?’ Erin asked, moving closer. ‘You know you had me at syrup. OK, the trick to this machine is this.’ She reached out and pressed what looked like a black blank space below the display screen.
‘What does that do? Because it doesn’t even look like a button,’ Orla said.
‘It cancels everything,’ Erin said. ‘Wipes clean everything everyone else has done to mess it up when they’re repeatedly hitting this button and that button and making it confused.’
‘It is just a machine, though, right? There’s not a little coffee-creating cat in there or something.’
‘I’m sixteen now, Orla. I don’t need you to make up a fairy tale. So… get another cup out and I’ll show you what else to do.’
Only a few moments later, ludicrously good coffee with a syrup refinement was in both their cups and for a short while they sat at the kitchen table, sipped and enjoyed without saying anything. Until…
‘Dad doesn’t have an alcohol issue and it’s Mum who’s sold all Granny’s things,’ Orla stated.
‘What?’ Erin asked, cream on the end of her nose.
‘Yeah,’ Orla said, contemplative.
‘But… why would she tell me it was Dad? Like, lie?’
‘Because sometimes people do and say things they wouldn’t usually when they’re under pressure,’ Orla said.
‘But she’s always told us God can see your lies,’ Erin said.
‘I know.’
‘And that the only thing worse than lying is stealing and murder.’
‘Yes,’ Orla agreed. Their mum did always say that.
