Chapter 2 #3
Ella couldn't speak to any man in any capacity on a night out, no matter how she knew them. The crazy jealous gleam would appear in Tommy’s eye and the rest of the night would be fighting and poisoned barbs thrown in her direction.
She never really confided in me about it, but it was an unspoken thing between us.
She knew that I knew, and I knew she’d talk to me about it when she was ready.
That changed three years in when I witnessed him getting physical with her in one of his rages.
I knew in my soul it wasn’t the first time, and from the panic in her eyes, I also knew her biggest concern wasn’t what he was doing but that I was seeing it.
He slammed her face into a car window as we were walking to the taxi rank after a night out in the city.
He said she’d taken too long in the bathrooms and was cheating on him, despite the fact she was clearly waiting in a massive queue.
That night, something inside me snapped.
I lunged for him as Ella sobbed hysterically and pulled me away before he retaliated.
He glared at me with visceral hate in his eyes as I dragged Ella into a taxi.
The saddest part of the story is that Ella stayed with him another year after that.
I had considered going to her mam and dad a few times; I knew they were no fans of Tommy from offhand comments Ella’s mam, Rita, had made in the past, but I also knew they had no idea of the extent of Tommy's abuse.
But they saw the change in their daughter the same as everyone else did.
Rita, Ella, and her little sister Siobhán had such a close relationship, but over time Ella started pulling away from them.
I was scared that going to her family would make things worse and she might cut us all off for good.
He did a really good show of remorse afterwards, texting me a long-winded apology about how it was the first time it had happened (lies) and how it would never happen again (also lies).
A part of my heart cracked when she decided to stay, but I knew Ella.
And I could see something inside her had changed that night, as if seeing my reaction had held up a mirror to herself that she’d been avoiding facing.
He kept his word to her for a surprisingly long time, but inevitably he slowly reverted to his possessive ways.
After a blazing row over calling to Niamh’s house for a takeaway one Friday night, he pinned her to the wall by the throat, took her phone and locked her in his bedroom.
Ella was finally done. She climbed out of his window, dropped onto the utility roof, and fucked off for good.
His stalking was so bad in the year after that that she’d reported him to the Gardaí numerous times, who informed her they couldn’t do anything to help her until he did something.
So, she needed to be hurt - or dead - before they cared.
He finally got a girl in the city pregnant and ran off to England, and Ella was free.
But the scars ran deeper than I wanted to contemplate.
“You okay, girl?” I asked as we walked into the bathrooms, quickly glancing around to check the cubicles were empty and we were alone.
She nodded her head and went to the mirror, fiddling with her long bob of jet-black hair.
Ella was 5’8, with hazel eyes, naturally bronzed skin, and the figure of Kendall Jenner, she’d missed her calling in life as a supermodel.
“It just throws me when topics like that come up and I’m not expecting it. If word had gotten out more, that’d be me everyone was discussing at a high table in the pub. Like vultures for gossip when a girl's world is crumbling.”
So many people think it’s a weak person that ends up in an abusive relationship, or that they’re weaker still because they stay in them.
But Ella was the strongest person I knew; before, during, and after Tommy.
What she’d endured, walked away from, and survived was a testament to her strength.
I just hoped she could realise it herself one day.
“Fuck them, Ells. Only you know what it’s like to be in that situation and how brave you were to escape it. I was there through it all girl, and you’re my hero!”
She gave me a watery smile, eyes bright as she met my stare in the mirror, before giving her reflection a resolute nod and heading back into the bar with me on her heels.
Ella finally relaxed and was starting to enjoy herself again as the music started, and since I’d overheard yesterday Connor had some family event today and wasn’t attending, I could too.
Niamh was busy nursing Dermot like the dutiful girlfriend she was, but the night wouldn’t be the same without her.
The band had started, and I could see Ella’s eyes kept drifting to the lead singer of the band, and his kept finding hers too.
He was VERY good looking, and he sounded unreal as he belted out Ed Sheeran, but he was a bit too pretty-boy for my tastes, and I thought he would be for Ella too.
The singer gave her a wink as he launched into the chorus of “Shape of You,” and she smiled shyly back at him…
okay, maybe pretty boy was her type after all.
As I was watching the flirt fest play out in front of me, my glass went flying when someone punched me in the shoulder, sending my drink all over my blue jumpsuit.
“What the fuck!” I shouted, spinning around to find my younger brother Fionn grinning at me.
“Hey, Rosie.” I rolled my eyes at him as I massaged my shoulder and tried to clean up my outfit.
My brothers were the only people who ever called me Rosie.
Because it’s not my name and it annoyed the shit out of me.
My older brother, Shea, couldn’t quite grasp the pronunciation of Róisín when he was three and I made an appearance, and he called me Wosie instead, which thankfully had graduated to Rosie, but the name had stuck.
Even Dad called me Rosie sometimes; it led me to conclude that all men had some aspect of asshole in them. Even the ones you loved the most.
“You can fuck off and get me another drink now,” I snarled at him, pointing to my almost empty glass.
“Alright, alright, you loon. I was going to the bar anyway.” He rolled his eyes at me like I was the unreasonable one. There was less than two years between us, but he was the reason I felt like a subject matter expert on the different maturity levels of girls versus boys.
Fionn turned to Ella with a bit of a swagger.
“Hey Ells, how was yesterday?” He’d had the biggest crush on her for about ten years now, but the crator didn’t seem to realise how non-existent his chances were.
Not that Fionn wasn’t good looking, he was one of the few men to be able to look down on Ella in heels and with his strawberry blonde windswept hair, light blue eyes and a smile out of a Hollywood film set, he wasn’t shy of admirers.
But Ella had been my best friend nearly all his life; she was there for the voice breaking and the awkward boners; he’d only ever be my baby brother to her.
Which was a relief since I would not be on board with any of my friends with either of my brothers.
. because eww. But I did feel for Fionn.
As much as he irritated me, he was one of the best men I knew and I was fiercely overprotective of him.
I doubted he’d ever find a girl I would deem good enough for him.
“Ah, it was great; I always prefer day two though. Less formal and a little looser,” she grinned at him, and I could see his eyes light up under her attention.
“What are you having? I was just heading to the bar.” Before she could answer him, someone leaned between her and Fionn to put a vodka, soda, lime in front of her.
“You looked like you were running dry,” the very hot singer murmured into her ear, before heading back to the stage where the guitarist was leading the crowd in a chorus of “The Rattlin’ Bog.”
He jumped up to take his place as I turned, open-mouthed, to look at Ella who could light the room up, she’d turned so red.
“I’m grand, thanks Fionn,” she squeaked, still watching the singer.
Fionn's face was like thunder as he looked back and forth between Ella and the band before turning on his heel and stomping towards the bar.
A few hours later I pulled out my phone as I dragged on a fag.
Ella was busy being chatted up by the singer now that they’d finished playing, and I’d wanted a break from third wheeling so had escaped to the smoking area.
There was a fire emoji reaction from Ronan on my last story - a very casual snap of me leaning into the camera, smiling.
It had taken me and Ella fifteen minutes to deem it sexy enough, flashing my low-cut jumpsuit, but casual enough in my “lean,” as she put it, to look natural.
It’d been like this for the past week since we followed each other on Instagram.
No messages, just reactions to each other's stories and the odd like from photos that were two to three years old. It was the weirdest flirtation I’d ever been a part of.
But this tit for tat was keeping things exciting, and I’d take my kicks where I could get them, thank you very much.
I went to put my phone away as I finished my smoke but stopped when I noticed another notification to my thirst trap story from Connor.
A fire emoji. That, I was not expecting.
Especially since I’d ignored his message last night, but I couldn’t deny I was secretly delighted.
It had been a relief not needing to look over my shoulder all day, but since the feeling of his lips on mine last night, I was struggling to muffle the surge of memories the kiss had brought to the forefront of my mind.
Our first kiss at the headland in Inchydoney, and the way he used to pull back after a passionate kiss to then smother every part of my face in little kisses until I was giggling hysterically.
But I was firm in my conviction of burying the memories and keeping things as they should be, surface level only.
Where it was safe. Basking in the reactions to my thirst trap from two of the most attractive men I’d ever laid eyes on.
.. In the words of Waylon Jennings – ‘Stop the world and let me off!’