Chapter 5
You've gone quiet on me
Morgan
Five minutes later, and we’ve made it onto the country road that leads straight through Stoney Grange to where I live. I want to ask why we’re taking the long way back to mine instead of cutting across the fields. But it’s late, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the company.
He holds open the gate next to the cattle grid. I don’t miss the way he looks me up and down as I pass him. It makes me feel strange. All tingly and self-aware. Like I’m standing naked in front of him and he’s seeing every part of me. It’s new. Odd. Kind of nice in a really painful way.
He’s never looked at me like this in all the times that I wanted him to.
“If you’d have told me yesterday that Paddy O’Keefe would be walking me home after I found his lost puppy, I’d have laughed in your face.”
He smirks. “You don’t have to use my full name every time you refer to me you know. Only my mother does that.”
I shrug as we continue walking. “Guess it’s out of habit.”
Paddy makes my insides twist when his dark brown eyes land on me. “Oh yeah?”
I give him a nervous glance. It suddenly occurs to me that Paddy and I may have grown up in the same village, and he may be one of my best friend’s older brothers, but we have never been alone like this.
Not since the night I told him I thought he looked cute after drinking too many jelly shots at his nineteenth birthday.
Of course, I wasn’t actually invited, but Fi had a few of us over while Paddy and the other boys all went out.
He came home blind drunk, stinking of cheap vodka.
We watched him trying to sober up with his head over the toilet and I found myself taking care of him.
Short of rubbing his back and telling him to drink plenty of water, he asked me how he looked.
And my sixteen-year-old-self gave her own half-drunk reply.
“Really cute.”
The ground should have swallowed me whole. Paddy’s reply was one I’ll never forget either. “You’re not so bad yourself, curly fries.” But it didn’t matter. He was drunk, and the next morning when he woke up, he never mentioned it. Never once acted like we’d had a conversation.
And that’s when I tried shutting the door on my feelings for Paddy. I locked so much away around that time. A time when everything got turned upside down.
There was a shift. A monumental changing of the tide. Lives that needed living.
Suddenly we weren’t kids anymore. There were jobs to be found, girlfriends and boyfriends that needed us. Well, needed everybody else except me. I can’t explain it, the loneliness. The void. A moment in time where I got forgotten. And now…
“You’ve gone quiet on me.” Paddy’s softly spoken words pull my train of thought.
“Just thinking.”
“About?” he says back, staying close enough to me that our arms brush.
It makes my heart race, but I doubt he even notices. I give myself enough time to think about my next words. “About the past.”
“That’s deep.”
A small smile graces my face. “Not really.” I peer up at him.
He looks down at me with a soft, curious gaze. “Anything in particular from the past? Or are we talking all things that have passed like The Black Death or Spanish Flu?”
I shake my head with a light chuckle. “No, nothing like that.”
We round the corner at the top of the hill overlooking the small graveyard.
“What about this bus shelter? Remember this?” Paddy lifts a hand, pointing to the wooden frame.
It’s old, with closed sides and an open front.
“Because I seem to remember somebody writing that I liked oral sex, along with my home telephone number.”
A burst of laughter rushes out of me. I lift a hand to my mouth. And snort. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I stop walking. “It was Fi’s idea.”
He shakes his head but smiles widely when he turns to look at me. “I don’t know,” he sings playfully. “I seem to remember finding you on your own in here on more than one occasion.”
“Hey, this is a village don’t forget. Bus stops take the brunt of rebellious kids and their antics.”
“Not for me they didn’t.”
My face lights up. “This one did for me. You know, I tried my first cigarette with Holly right here?”
His eyebrow raises in a look of surprise. “Badass,” he teases.
I let out a quiet chuckle at him playfully mocking me. “Yep. Also had my first alcopop in here, too. I was so sick, I thought I’d have to sleep in here.”
Paddy sniggers. “That’s right. I forgot you were a lightweight.”
My cheeks heat, embarrassed. “Still am.”
“And there was me thinking you only came here when you were sad.”
I suck in some air. My smile slowly fading. “You remember finding me?”
He steps closer. “Pretty hard to forget the state I found you in, curly fries.” His fingers brush a wayward strand of hair off my face, forcing me to hold my breath.
That night in particular wasn’t great. I’d argued with Jerry and was struggling with my revision.
It was too much. After getting it in both ears from my dad, I let my legs carry me to my hiding place.
Finding me soaked in tears and stressed from life, Paddy took me home and gave me his old school books.
He made things okay. Always did.
“Yeah, well. That was then.”
“And how are things now?”
I continue walking, chest expanding. “Okay, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Things are what they are, Paddy.” My tone has shifted. I’m no longer in the mood for talking.
“Morgan?” he presses.
I don’t know why I get the feeling he won’t let this go. “What?”
“Talk to me.”
“Why?”
He balks. “I don’t know. Maybe because since I got back here this morning, everyone seems to be on my case about talking to you like it’s some sort of big deal.”
“Well, it’s not.” My pace quickens along the darkened road.
Paddy’s right beside me in a heartbeat, matching my speed. “Well, something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Paddy,” I throw at him. “Everyone is just sticking their nose into business that isn’t theirs, same as always in this place. You know that.”
“Then why are you getting upset?”
I shrug defensively, hating that we’re arguing like this. “I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He holds my elbow, trying to stop me.
A million sparks shoot up my arm. It’s as if time pauses to allow my skin time to memorise his touch.
Looking down, I blink and pull myself free.
“Don’t push this like it’s any of your business then.
” I take a few more powerful steps, noticing that Paddy doesn’t follow.
Every part of my soul wants to keep on marching, keep walking away.
Better yet, I want to go to the old oak tree or sit in this bus shelter where the outside world feels like it can’t touch me.
I don’t look over my shoulder but wait until I hear Paddy’s footsteps coming to a stop just behind me. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
My lashes sweep up and down, but I’m not worried about any tears falling. I haven’t cried in so long, I don’t think I can anymore. “I know.” We begin moving in silence until I offer my truth. “It’s my dad,” I say quietly, before exchanging a knowing look with Paddy. “We had an argument.”
“Bad one?”
I shake my head, inhaling deeply.
Unexpected relief washes over Paddy’s face, hearing that he isn’t the one who upset me.
“He wants me to get a job working for one of his clients.”
Deep, dark-set eyes stare back at me. “You don’t want to?”
“No.” My voice is barely audible.
“What do you want to do then?”
We take a few more steps in silence; the only sounds are those of our shoes hitting the tarmac. “I don’t know, writing maybe.”
Paddy makes a noise somewhere between surprise and shock. “Still using that old typewriter of yours?”
I throw a confused, nervous look at him.
“Don’t be shy. I remember the songs you girls used to make up and the stories you’d type out on that old thing.”
My cheeks heat. “Actually, it broke. The part I need can’t be fixed. I’ve just used my notepad and pen.”
The day the carriage lock snapped felt like something also cracked inside me. My favourite possession was suddenly no more.
“Ah,” he chirps. “Much simpler.”
A soft laugh escapes me before fading into a sigh. “Dad said it isn’t normal to want to be a writer anyway.”
“Is he fucking stupid?” His fiery response catches me by surprise. “I don’t mean to cause offence, but what would he know?” He shakes his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Actually, he thinks it’s time I grow up and get a ‘normal’ job. Start doing all the normal things that normal people do at my age. Like you, I suppose, with your nice car. Good job. Living in London.”
Paddy’s shoulders slump. “It ain’t all roses, curly fries.” His voice wavers.
“No?”
He lowers his head. “No. More like one bad decision after the other.”
I look down at my feet, steeling my spine in the wake of his words. “Want to talk about it?”
He sighs heavily. “Really, really not.”
“Okay.” I respect his decision and keep walking, ignoring the pull of my heart. “So, Kevin,” I begin lightly. “Interesting name. As in Costner?”
A smooth chuckle rumbles from his chest. “As in dead uncle.”
My eyes snap up.
Paddy shrugs, hands in his pockets. “He was an idiot. Mum never liked him.”
Eyes widening, I ask, “Then why name the dog after him?”
“Because he always hated dogs. Made my grandad get rid of their family pet when Mum was younger, claiming to have allergies.”
I can’t help but smile. “And did he?”
“No. He just hated dogs, period.” We both laugh. “I think it was Mum’s way of holding up a giant middle finger to the bastard.”
“Nice,” I remark, seeing the end of the road, indicating I’m almost home.
“You should walk him.”
“What?”
“He liked you,” he says, like that’s enough of an explanation for his suggestion.
“How do you figure that?”
“Come on,” he chuckles with a grin. “You must have seen how he hated every second of my mother smothering him? He didn’t do that with you. He let you carry him.”
“I only did that because he was cold.”
“Still. You’re the first person he’s let hold him without complaining.”