Flick

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Siobhán Parkinson for her expertise in the editing and publishing process and for having faith in my ability to bring Flick to life. Thanks also to Elaina O Neill in Little Island for all the work, which she undertook in such a cheerful yet professional manner.

  To Seamus Cashman, a great mentor, thanks so much for all your advice and support. Thanks to my writing group buddies, especially Juliette, Paddy and Patricia, for their helpful feedback. Thanks also to those who reviewed and critiqued the manuscript. I’m grateful to Sine Quinn for all her encouragement.

  To my parents, Tom and Betty, and my brothers and sisters. I’m lucky to have grown up in such a great family.

  Finally to my darling husband Johnny for believing in me and motivating me and always being there and to my amazing children for their equal measure of inspiration and distraction.

  CHAPTER 1

  My eyes are closed but I’m awake. I swallow and groan. My head pounds. I gently pull my tongue, dry and rough, from the roof of my mouth. I stink of smoke; it lingers in my nose, my mouth and on last night’s clothes – which I’m still wearing. I don’t want to breathe or swallow or move. I try to remember how the night ended – the club, the girls, how I got home – but can’t. Just don’t think, my brain whispers.

  I lie there, hearing a thudding in my head, and only realise when Mam’s opening the door that it’s her, having come up the stairs and knocked. Damn it, I groan inwardly. She comes over and sits on the side of the bed. She nudges me, but I don’t respond. I don’t have the energy to. She prods me again persistently and I grunt, feigning deep sleep.

  ‘Felicity, how was last night?’ she whispers enthusiastically.

  I’m going to be sick if I have to talk or think, so I don’t say anything.

  ‘That good, eh?’ she says, bending to pick some clothes off the floor. ‘I wish you’d put your clothes away when you’re finished with them,’ she says. ‘It’s not such a difficult thing to do.’

  I groan sleepily and turn my back, hoping she’ll get the message. The last bloody thing I need today is a lecture on the state of my room.

  ‘Have you still got your clothes on from last night?’ she suddenly asks, pulling the covers back.

  Uh-oh, I think. Here we go!

  ‘And you stink of smoke – were you smoking?’ I can tell she’s looking at me even though my eyes have refused to open. I listen to her breathing, waiting. There’s no excuse to give, nothing that will pacify Mam so I stay tight-lipped and hope for the best. Is she going? I wonder after a moment when she, too, has remained silent. Please God may she go and let me die in peace, I silently beg.

  ‘Felicity, wake up,’ she says, pulling at the quilt. I reluctantly turn back towards her which, in hindsight, was the beginning of the end.

  ‘Oh my God, what is that on your neck?’ she gasps.

  My eyes flicker open and my hand instinctively goes to cover whatever’s there.

  ‘Jesus, what the hell did you get up to last night?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I croak, sitting up on the bed.

  It’s a bad move, I can feel my stomach beginning to retch. Concentrate, Flick, I warn myself. ‘I don’t need the Spanish Inquisition every time I’ve had a night out, Mam,’ I begin, ‘and I wasn’t …’ I stop, jump off the bed and race towards the en suite. I get there but of course I don’t reach the loo and I puke all over the floor. I can’t move another inch so I just bend over and get sick some more. A lot more. Even when there’s absolutely nothing left in my stomach I’m still retching. Finally it’s over and I feel dizzy from the exertion. Even the blood pulsing through my veins hurts; my head’s still pounding and my legs feel like jelly. I have to lie down. I grab a towel and wipe my face as I make my way back to bed. Mam just stands there staring, too much in shock to even ask how I am. I can see the anger on her face but at this moment in time I just don’t have the energy to care.

  ‘What the hell were you drinking last night?’ she shouts. She waits but I don’t reply. ‘Or did you take something? Are you on something?’ she persists.

  ‘No,’ I groan. ‘It was probably the burger I ate on the way home,’ I try lamely.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Felicity,’ she snaps.

  ‘Can we talk later?’ I beg.

  ‘Aren’t you even going to brush your teeth or clean yourself up?’ she asks incredulously as I kick off my boots and skirt and lie on the bed. ‘Felicity!’

  Her shout goes through my whole body.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you? You’re a bloody mess.’ She watches as I close my eyes, unable to say anything. She stands for a few moments in silence. I don’t hear her leaving.

  I wake on and off and stumble out to the loo a few times. It is spotless. I hadn’t even heard Mam coming back in and cleaning up. At some stage I think I’ll never drink again, but I know that too will pass. My mouth tastes stale, like an ashtray, and I wish I had the energy to brush my teeth but I don’t. I sleep some more and don’t allow myself to think of the night before, the drink or Tom. Instead I dream endlessly of food and I eventually wake, starving.

  The light has gone from the room and I look at my mobile: 21.15. I crawl out of bed and turn on the shower in the bathroom. I just about manage to wash and dry myself before my stomach begins to heave again. All I want to do is lie down and die but I know if I don’t get some painkillers and grub it could be a very painful death.

  The telly’s on in the sitting-room as I tiptoe past into the kitchen and grab as much stuff as I can, as quickly as possible, before heading upstairs again. I’m halfway up when the sitting-room door opens. I freeze. Mam stares up at me, stony-faced before turning and walking across the hall. I head back to my little sanctuary. Tomorrow is going to be awful.

  CHAPTER 2

  I wake at about six and listen to Dad bustling around before he heads out to work. I wonder what Mam has told him and think of the inevitable showdown that lies ahead. I haul myself up shortly after seven. It’s probably the first time Mam hasn’t had to roar at me or drag me out of bed since I was four. The moment I move, my head begins to throb again so it takes me ages to get ready. I drag myself into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Usually I look tanned and healthy but today I look pale and drained, my blue eyes look lifeless and my shoulder-length brown hair is limp and dull. I gather it into a ponytail to tie it up and that’s when I see it, this massive lovebite that covers half of the left hand side of my neck. Oh my God, I think, beginning to plaster it in make-up, it really is gross. The make-up doesn’t work; instead of hiding it, the orange streak highlights it even more.

  ‘Damn it,’ I whisper, pulling at my collar, then at my hair in the hope of covering the incriminating evidence. Nothing works. As a last resort I grab my woolly school scarf and, ignoring the sun streaming in the window, wrap it around my neck. ‘Nothing or no one is going to budge you today,’ I promise, heading downstairs.

  The dread of confronting Mam gets stronger with every step I take. How the hell am I going to explain it and get away alive? I wonder. Life just wouldn’t be worth living if I was to ignore or deny what’s happened and would definitely prompt counselling in Mam’s books. Arguing would be fatal. What I should do is just quietly apologise and then listen as she rants and raves until she has it all out of her system. I look at my watch; it’s a quarter to eight, which gives her a good twenty minutes of a lecture before I grovel for forgiveness. She’ll sort things out with Dad, explain how she’s given me the third degree and a hefty grounding and it will all be forgotten about by the time I get home. Happy days!

  When I get to the kitchen door I take a deep breath and turn the handle. I can’t believe it: it’s cold and empty – no table set, no lunch made f
or me to take to school, no warm smell of toast or coffee. An empty kitchen was not what I was expecting, and I’m not sure whether to be happy or disappointed – prolonging the ordeal will just make it worse. Waiting for something bad to happen is just as bad as the bloody thing happening.

  I grab a bowl of cereal, pour too much milk on it and wonder whether to just go up to her room and apologise or get the hell out while the coast is clear. I’m still thinking when she walks in. I look up and open my mouth to say something but she ignores me completely, grabs her bag and keys from the counter, turns and walks away. Within seconds I hear the front door slam behind her. I sit in shocked silence. Oh my God, I think, she’s definitely mad. Even if I came on my hands and knees with a list of counsellors in one hand and a list of AA groups in the other, begging for forgiveness, she’d probably still want to kill me. I’m doomed. With this thought in mind I slowly pick up my bag, lock up and head to school. At least there things won’t be any worse …

  Fee and Kar catch up with me as I trudge along.

  ‘So, you survived?’ Fee says with a grin, her mad red curls falling carelessly around her freckled face.

  ‘For a few more hours anyway,’ I say. Then I give them a run-down on my hangover saga with Mam and how the worst is yet to come. Fee’s all sympathetic, but Kar just laughs.

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ I say, shooting her a look that could kill.

  Kar is gorgeous-looking, like she could be a model; I swear, she’s got the perfect figure, beautiful blonde hair and the brightest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Sometimes it’s hard to stop looking at her. What’s even cooler is that she doesn’t give a damn about anything, ever, so she does the maddest things.

  ‘It’s just your Mam’s so proper and perfect. I would love to have been there to see the look on her face.’ Kar’s still grinning like mad.

  ‘It wasn’t pretty,’ I say.

  ‘So, you and Tom must have had a good time,’ she continues.

  ‘I can’t really remember that much,’ I admit, not wanting to think about it. The only thing I do remember was pretending that I was going to be sick all over him when he dragged me outside and started getting all romantic and heavy. It was pathetic, really, but it worked. He reluctantly followed me back inside and watched while I got drunker and drunker.

  ‘So, are you two going out together?’ Fee asks.

  ‘No,’ I snort in disgust.

  ‘But he’s gorgeous,’ she sighs.

  ‘He’s an idiot,’ I snap.

  ‘When are we ever going to find a guy that you actually like and want to go out with?’ Kar asks with a small smirk.

  ‘Well, we certainly won’t find him in this dump,’ I say nodding towards the school ahead, trying not to go red.

  The taunting continues all day, from both the girls and the guys. Science class is the worst – I absolutely HATE science, not just because I haven’t a clue of ninety-nine per cent of the stuff but also because Cunningham, our science teacher, is a real dragon and she hates me, I swear she does. Today she’s talking about the male reproductive system of all bloody things. Almost immediately the jeers begin; people are nudging and poking me and some of the lads start throwing stuff at me and instead of Cunningham dealing with anyone else she just gets me to read. I’m mortified. And right in the middle of all that, Trev, one of Tom’s friends who happens to be sitting behind us, starts pulling at my scarf. He practically strangles me in the process of getting it off me and Cunningham, aka Crabface, looks up and gives out to me for ‘not being able to read plain English.’

  ‘Can you please get my scarf back?’ I ask Kar after class. The lads are racing by with wolf whistles and smart-assed remarks.

  ‘Hey, Trev,’ she roars, ‘give us that scarf.’

  He laughs and races on, ignoring her.

  ‘Just forget about it,’ says Kar. ‘People won’t even look at it after a few hours. A day or two, tops,’ she says.

  ‘Well, that’s just great, then.’

  ‘How about pulling your collar up?’ Fee suggests.

  ‘That’s too noticeable,’ I say.

  ‘Right, and a big grey scarf around your neck on a day like today isn’t?’ asks Kar.

  ‘It’s January,’ I argue.

  ‘Yeah but, hello, the heat’s on, it’s boiling in here.’

  I turn and stick out my tongue and before I know what’s happening she’s pushing me against the wall.

  ‘Don’t move,’ she orders as she fixes my collar.

  Don’t go red, don’t go red, I think but I can feel myself hot all over. I stand rigidly and try to look anywhere but at her.

  ‘Perfect,’ she says after a moment. Then she turns and walks on. I follow slowly behind, stuck for words, my heart racing.

  ‘Hey,’ comes a voice from behind me.

  Every muscle in my body tenses and even before I turn round I know it’s him.

  ‘Oh, um, hi, Tom,’ I say, going red all over again.

  ‘Hey,’ he says with a grin. ‘That was good fun the other night.’

  ‘Yeah … yeah it was,’ I lie.

  ‘We had some session,’ he says with a laugh. ‘We’ll have to do it again!’

  ‘Yeah,’ I agree.

  ‘Maybe next weekend?’ he suggests.

  ‘Em, I don’t think I’ll be out,’ I say.

  ‘Well, maybe the weekend after?’ he persists.

  ‘Em … I guess … sure,’ I agree half-heartedly.

  ‘Great, it’s a date,’ he smiles.

  As he walks away I give a weak grin and wonder how the hell I’m going to get out of this one.

  CHAPTER 3

  The day doesn’t really get any better and even when I reach home I know the worst has yet to come. I’m up in my room trying to distract myself on my guitar when I hear Mam come in the hall door. OK, I think, just get this over and done with. I make my way slowly downstairs, still without a plan. All I know is that I’ve to get in, apologise and get out, unscarred, as quickly as possible. The only way to do that is to say nothing other than sorry and to agree with absolutely everything she says. I stand outside the door for a few seconds, psyching myself up before heading in.

  ‘Hi,’ I say quietly to her back. She doesn’t even turn around. I cross my fingers, take a deep breath and dive in. ‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ I croak, my voice already cracking under the pressure. I clear my throat, ‘I was a disgrace at the weekend. I’m really sorry; it won’t happen again.’

  She spins around. ‘Damn right it won’t; you’re sixteen years old, Felicity, and you’re out drinking yourself into oblivion. I’ve never seen anyone in as bad a state as you were. I just couldn’t believe it; I still can’t get my head around it. What the hell were you drinking? Where did you even get drink from anyway? Do you know you could have poisoned yourself with that stuff? How the hell am I ever going to trust you again?’ She stops and stares at me.

  Oh God, she wants me to answer her and I haven’t a clue what to say.

  ‘Well, what were you drinking?’ she shouts again.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I mumble and she automatically clenches her jaw. ‘We stopped in Luigi’s on the way home and I got a cheeseburger, and it was about half an hour after that when I was home in bed that I began to feel sick.’

  ‘Felicity, don’t you dare lie to me,’ she says, ‘you were totally out of it, so I know for a fact it wasn’t the food.’

  ‘I swear, Mam, I’m not.’ I stare at her, knowing she’s not buying it. I’m desperate now. ‘Kar said that she remembers seeing someone near our drinks and she thinks he might have put something in my Coke but he just disappeared when she went back over to the table. She says that’s happened there before,’ I suddenly blurt out.

  Mam’s anger turns to shock and for a second I’m relieved.

  ‘Oh my God, did you see anyone? Did your drink taste different?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Who else has it happened to?’ Mam asks.

  ‘Kar couldn’t remember the
girl’s name,’ I say. ‘It happened a good while ago and I don’t think she went to our school. It might even have been just a story.’

  ‘Ring Karen and let me talk to her; she may have a description of that guy.’

  I gulp. Then I go to the phone and pretend to ring her number. ‘It’s ringing out,’ I say. ‘She had to go to the dentist anyway, but she said she couldn’t remember what he looked like, other than that he was tall with brown hair.’

  ‘Don’t they have security cameras in those places? I bet they could go back over the tapes – they’d have a better description of the guy. That boy you were with, who was he?’ she asks. ‘Was he someone you know?’

  ‘Not really,’ I murmur.

  ‘He either was or he wasn’t, Felicity,’ she snaps.

  ‘No,’ I gulp, hoping I’m giving the right answer.

  ‘Was he older? Could he have spiked your drink so you’d be with him?’

  Uh oh. I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut.

  ‘I think Jen knew him,’ I blurt out. ‘I don’t think it was him and I don’t think anyone really spiked my drink; it was the food.’

  ‘I’m ringing the Cove,’ she says, ignoring me. ‘I’m going to find out about those cameras. And aren’t they supposed to have bouncers walking around?’

  Crap! ‘Mam, it’s always packed; they can’t check everything.’

  ‘Well, I’m ringing anyway. If they’re aware of the problem they’ll be better able to deal with it. When I think what could have happened to you … I’m going to ring the guards as well.’

  ‘Mam, I really think that was just a story about that other girl … and no one else saw anyone near our table. You know Kar – she’s always joking around; she probably didn’t see anyone either … Seriously, I think it was the food.’

  Mam shakes her head. ‘It wasn’t food poisoning, you were too spaced out.’ She pauses. ‘And you definitely weren’t drinking?’

  I gulp and shake my head, unable to speak. ‘And you didn’t take any drugs?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I croak.