Chapter 11
The speed with which everything fell into place made Cassie’s head spin. On Sunday they had the ‘I have a friend .?.?.’ conversation and by Monday evening she was driving in Louise’s car towards Ramona’s apartment in posh Dublin 4. They made their way through the glass doors and across the marble floor of the entrance, past the floor-to-ceiling windows and the enormous artwork in the foyer, and took the burnished lift up to the fourth floor.
‘Why are we here, Louise? There isn’t a hope in holy hell I’ll be able to afford this. What’s she like? What do you know about her? I mean, how come this amazing apartment is available instantly?’
‘Ramona is a little .?.?. different,’ explained Louise carefully.
‘That’s OK, so am I.’
There was something about Louise’s demeanour that made her panic slightly. Too late for that. Here they were at 16D, Ramona’s door. As they knocked and waited, Cassie could feel the tingle of excitement at the prospect of living in such a ritzy location, light years away from the depressing properties she’d been viewing online. Perhaps it would all work out, perhaps fortune favoured the bold and all of her risky decisions would be proved right. Just then the door swung open.
‘Well, hey, babies!!’
Standing in front of them was a six-foot-two woman, at the very least, in her gold platform sandals and spandex shorts, not to mention a white skintight crop top. On a bitter March evening. Cassie immediately felt like a contestant from the Housewife of the Year competition circa 1972, dressed in her cosy jacket and sensible boots.
‘Well, look at you, aren’t you just the cutest thing?’ boomed Ramona with a put-on country-and-western crackle in her voice, though underneath her accent was genuinely American. ‘Come on in.’
Pivoting on her high heels, she paraded her toned and barely covered bum into the adjoining room, projecting over her shoulder as she vanished, ‘D’you girls drink gin?’
Cassie looked open-mouthed at Louise. She’d never seen such beautiful makeup in real life, only on Drag Race . It was only when Louise clocked her expression and whispered, ‘Ramona is .?.?. just Ramona,’ that she managed to recover herself.
‘Well, don’t huddle in the hall like a little herd of sheep!’ They shuffled after her into what was presumably supposed to be the sitting room but, to all appearances, looked like a club of some sort – or to be more precise, a lap dancing club. The curtains were closed, giving the space a gloomy feel. One wall was painted black, one purple and the other consisted of strips of smoked mirror from floor to ceiling. The only furniture apart from an L-shaped black leather sofa and a massive TV was a chrome pole fixed between floor and ceiling, and a phone on a tripod. Striking it might be, cosy it definitely was not.
‘Wow, fabulous,’ breathed Cassie.
‘Sorry, sweeties, I was rehearsing for my act. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place. Lulie, did you get a little chunky since I saw you last?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Thank God, I thought you’d been hitting the pizza.’ She gave Louise a playful slap on the bottom.
Louise looked a little taken aback so Cassie gave her a reassuring smile. Without further consultation, Ramona pushed one of the mirror panels, which slowly opened to reveal a well-lit drinks bar, including, apparently, a fridge from which she served Beefeater Blood Orange gin and tonics.
‘Hey, preggers, you’re off the booze I suppose?’
‘Er yes, thanks, just a few ice cubes for me. I can’t even look at a tonic. I can barely even say the word without getting a wave of—’
‘How does the human race ever reproduce, when pregnancy is just so boring ?’
Cassie’s jaw practically hit the floor. This was, without exception, the most insensitive, rude, boorish woman she had ever met. But at the same time, she reflected, there was something hilariously anarchic about the whole situation that made her feel a laugh bubbling up inside her.
Ramona towered over her five-foot-five frame as she handed her the eye-wateringly strong gin and tonic.
‘Haven’t I seen you before somewhere?’
Cassie knew better than to coyly reply, ‘Yes, on Casualty .’ This only gave the other person a chance to reply, ‘No, not that, I never watch it.’ So she said nothing and let Ramona work it out.
‘I know what it was! You were all in your bra and panties, that’s why I didn’t recognise you!’ she hollered.
Cassie practically felt herself blasted against the wall with the impact.
‘You were one of those chicks waving their oxters around – that deodorant. I knew it .’
She seemed to take an almost childlike delight in recognising her.
‘I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’ She burst into raucous laughter and then, without warning, made straight for the door.
‘Come on, let me show you your room.’
There seemed to be an understanding that Cassie had magically passed some invisible test and was now as good as moved in. She snuck a glance back at Louise, who gave a helpless shrug as they trooped down the hallway to a kitchen of cream cabinets with black marble surfaces and a breathtaking view over the city. It was obvious from the show-house feel that the occupant had probably never cooked a meal there. The apartment was fitted out to an impressively high standard, about which Ramona seemed utterly nonchalant. ‘Fridge,’ she droned, flicking open the massive American-style appliance that seemed to contain not much more than a large bottle of vodka, a family-sized carton of orange juice and a wedge of cheese. Not much of a domestic goddess, but no surprises there.
‘Myyy roooom,’ she drawled as they passed a dark space. ‘Your roooom.’ She flung open a room and switched on the light to indicate a double en-suite room with built-in wardrobe, whose open doors seemed to suggest someone had left in a hurry.
Seated at the glass table in the kitchen, a few moments later, Cassie reminded herself to take some ownership of this situation and not be railroaded by Ramona’s powerful presence.
‘OK, first of all, your place is amazing – and what an incredible location, oh my God, but—’
‘Yada, yada, I know what you’re going to ask. How much is the rent? Well, how much’a you got?’
‘Well, I’ve a dog-walking business, part-time, and some savings but I am planning to get a more serious job.’ She put a little laugh in her voice to try and minimise the tension, but it still sounded lame.
Glancing around the apartment, she felt the strength drain out of her. This was a fantasy. What was she thinking? She’d need more than a serious job to pay for this lot. She’d need a sugar daddy. Ramona produced a vape from a tiny jewelled handbag and took a pull.
‘I own the place so .?.?. whatever.’
That nonchalance again. It struck Cassie that Ramona must either have one hell of an income or come from a background where money wasn’t an issue. A fizz of excitement started in her tummy – this might actually, unbelievably, be possible after all.
‘Five hundred?’ Ramona threw out airily, as though she were starting an auction at Sotheby’s.
‘A week?’
Ramona looked at her and snorted with laughter. ‘Jeez. I’m not that much of a witch. A month, obvs!’
What?? Five hundred a month was nothing. She could easily afford that. Cassie found herself involuntarily leaping up from her chair and hugging Ramona.
‘Oh my God, yes. Yes, thank you. That’d be .?.?. amazing.’
‘So, we’ve a deal. First of every month, and don’t bring anyone back unless I’ve vetted them first.’ Another throaty laugh.
‘Deal.’
‘I’ll be away until the weekend, so make yourself at home. I don’t actually cook but someone told me there’s pots somewhere – oh, and help yourself to the OJ and vodka .?.?. See you then.’
Cassie looked at Louise and only then did it dawn on them both that Ramona was on her way out. This was a girl who clearly didn’t sit around watching life happen second-hand.
Five minutes later they were walking down the path towards the car park. Cassie was feeling buffeted by conflicting feelings.
‘I never dreamed I could get something like that, Louise. I can’t thank you enough for introducing me.’
‘Well, one thing I can promise you is that you won’t be bored.’
‘I’ve just realised I never asked her anything about herself. I didn’t feel like I could, what does she do? She only looks about thirty, if that, how does she own that place? I mean .?.?. what is she?’
‘I don’t know, exactly. My sister Trish is in events management and knows her as a burlesque dancer. Apparently, she’s pretty celebrated in those circles. But she’s some sort of TikTok influencer as well.’
‘None of that sounds like it’d buy you a sniff of that apartment. As my ma would say, maybe she comes from a long line of bling-bling.’
‘Maybe she does. I wouldn’t be surprised. Don’t super-rich people kind of feel like they can make their own rules?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Cassie.
‘Neither would I.’
They both laughed, a companionable, relieved laugh. Six-foot-two in her platform sandals and hot pants or not, Ramona had taken her in. At least she was back on track towards her own independence, whatever that might look like.
*?*?*
Finn had his arm around her as she leaned against his shoulder, both of them munching their way through a big box of popcorn as they watched the movie in the small, intimate cinema. As the titles began to roll, everyone else got up with a flap of their seat and shuffled out from between their rows while they sat on, watching the credits. The closing music drifted, haunting and meditative, through the empty cinema, as the endless list of names scrolled by.
‘I adored it,’ she said. ‘There’s something about music in movies. I once heard it described as creating a back door to the emotions. Good choice.’
He smiled and kissed the top of her head as they meandered out of the cinema and down the hill towards the warm yellow light spilling through the windows of the thatched pub.
‘I like the way you put words on things that I feel, but I’ve never named,’ remarked Finn, apparently addressing a stop sign. She understood his awkwardness and tightened her arm around his.
After she found them a comfortable seat at a table in a corner, Finn returned with a pint of Heineken for himself and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc for her.
‘I love the way you can order for me without asking, and it’s always the right thing.’
He gave her a sideways glance, but she could tell he was pleased.
‘You’re welcome. So, tell me all about this new flatmate.’ He settled back comfortably.
But before she could reply, she registered a look of consternation on Finn’s face. Oh God, what now? He hastily put down his drink and said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘What? We’ve just sat down, Finn. What’s going on?’
She snuck a glance in the direction of his gaze, only to lock eyes with one of the most hostile stares she’d ever encountered.
‘Come on—’
‘No! Wait, I’ve just got my drink and I’m not leaving. Tell me who that woman is.’
‘It’s Janine, my ex-wife’s sister.’
‘And does she not know you’re separated?’
‘Oh, she does, yeah.’
‘Well, then, feck her.’
‘You don’t get it. She’s a weapon.’
‘What the hell? You owe her nothing and neither do I.’
‘Oh, God, she’s coming over. Christ.’
The burly middle-aged woman was barging towards them through the tables, drawing alarmed glances from the other patrons. With her elbows raised and her chin jutting, she looked extremely intimidating. But if life as a performer had taught Cassie anything, it was not to be afraid of a scene. Embarrassment was no threat to her, no siree. Janine had picked the wrong girl for that. Oh yes. Maybe Cassie was secretly missing performing or maybe meeting the fearless Ramona had given her extra confidence, but if this bitch wanted a ding-dong, then a ding-dong she would get. Audience or no audience.
‘So, Finn, you’re out and about already?’
The decibel level of her voice was designed to browbeat and humiliate.
‘Hello, Janine,’ said Finn through gritted teeth.
Janine swivelled her attention round to Cassie like a rocket launcher taking aim.
‘And who is this lady? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?’
What a wagon. At least Cassie had had the foresight to whip her drink off the table on the off-chance Janine might try to tip it over her. No point in wasting good wine. She was no psychologist, but she could certainly spot a chick with a ton of inner rage who was only too delighted to find an excuse to take it out on someone in the name of loyalty or whatever.
‘Cassie.’ She smiled pleasantly. ‘My name is Cassie.’
‘Well, “Cassie”, are you aware that this man is married to my sister?’
The rest of the bar was getting way more action than they’d bargained for on a lacklustre Thursday evening and were lapping it up. This was a tricky situation, Cassie recognised – the moment she reacted, Janine would have her hooked. The old quote about mud wrestling with a pig sprang to mind. Something about .?.?. ‘You’ll both end up dirty and the pig will only enjoy it.’ Apart from that, this was Finn’s battle, and anything she did could only make things worse.
‘That’s enough, Janine, we all know the situation. Marisha and I are living separately. This is none of your business.’
Which was a perfectly fine and accurate reply. Unfortunately, Janine appeared to be one of those people for whom facts were irrelevant or, worse, all part of a conspiracy. She was also hell-bent on involving the entire pub in the drama. Cassie sensed that the only way to play this was to be composed, slightly surprised and utterly unapologetic, thereby making her opponent look unhinged.
‘And I wonder if my sister or her three little children were here now what they’d make of it.’
‘Marisha is well aware of the situation and, anyhow, we’re not in the way of bringing our children into pubs at night.’
‘Is that so? Well, maybe then we should phone her!’ announced Janine, triumphantly whipping out her phone. Mercifully, help came from an unexpected source in the form of a group of men who had become quite invested in the dispute.
‘Ah, shut oop, ye ole slag.’
‘Yeah, the fella’s separated. That’s what he’s after sayin’. Fair an’ square. Leave them alone.’
‘She’s only raging ’cause your other one is way better lookin’,’ a third chortled.
This caused a degree of hilarity at the table but wasn’t doing anything to improve Janine’s temper.
‘Let it go, Janine,’ muttered Finn. She hesitated for a moment but had the sense to read the room. She lowered her voice. ‘Just you wait, Finn, just you see how much access you get to those kids after this.’
At that, she swept out of the pub. Cassie felt shaken and Finn looked positively grey.
‘Don’t you mind her, son,’ said one of the men kindly. ‘She’s only an old wagon. I know the type.’
‘What a ’mare,’ observed another. ‘Reminds me of my ex. See that?’ he said, jabbing his finger at his balding head while looking in Cassie’s direction. ‘She done that to me.’
The problem was that Janine did potentially have some power. Mean, vindictive power maybe, but power nonetheless. They sat in silence, flinching at the surreptitious glances and mutterings around them.
‘God, I’m sorry, maybe we should’ve left .?.?.’
‘Babe, you were absolutely right. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to come here in the first place, but if not now .?.?. when?’
Babe . It was a long time since she’d been called that. It felt lovely.
‘I thought you stayed calm and handled it brilliantly.’
‘Yeah?’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Yeah. You couldn’t have dealt with it better.’
She knew that if they’d been in private, he’d have kissed her.
‘Thanks, but there’s no point pretending. She could make life hell for me.’
‘Your child custody hasn’t been made official yet?’
He shook his head.
‘Right now, it’s all based around goodwill, which works fine .?.?. until it doesn’t. And the last thing I need is that one sticking her oar in. The only good thing is that Marisha doesn’t particularly like her. And Marisha’s job is high pressure, so breaks from the kids actually suit her. She always seems in pretty good form when I collect them.’
This provoked an unease in Cassie. She loved the feeling of being trusted with painful family stuff but, on the other hand, there was something unnerving about the familiarity with which he still spoke about his ex-wife. The rest of the pub appeared to have lost interest in their drama and gone back to their own conversations. Nonetheless, it was a relief to see the tables clearing and the crowd thinning out. The men who’d come to their rescue stood up to go, and one of them leaned over to speak to Finn.
‘This’ll pass,’ he said and patted his shoulder. ‘Don’t let the haters call the shots.’
It was a kindly remark and it seemed as though Finn welcomed it, especially as the other man exuded an air of quiet authority. Finn nodded and Cassie noticed that he was looking down busily at his phone, holding back tears.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, reaching for her coat.
They stood outside together in the cold night, in the same spot they’d been only a couple of hours earlier, but Cassie could feel a shift in the air. The season was changing.