Saving Grace by Ciara Geraghty

Author:Ciara Geraghty [Geraghty, Ciara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781848944145
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2009-06-24T20:00:00+00:00

28

I drove to my mother’s house, dropping Shane in town on the way.

‘Tell your family I was asking for them,’ he said, taking his seat-belt off.

‘Yes, of course.’ I couldn’t wait for him to get out of the car, but he was taking his time. ‘What are you going to tell them?’ he asked.

‘I’ll just say you had a long-standing arrangement that you couldn’t get out of. They won’t mind.’ That was true, they wouldn’t. Nor would they be surprised.

He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I could come, you know. If you really want me to. I could ring Pauline . . .’ He tapered off, waiting for me. I obliged. It was easier this way.

‘Not at all. You go and enjoy yourself. Do you want me to pick you up later?’

‘No, don’t worry. I’ll grab a joe and see you back at the flat, OK baby?’ He kissed me and got out, the wind whipping his hair about his face. He blew me another kiss, rearranged his hair and was gone. I lit up a cigarette almost immediately, my hands shaking with the cold turkey. I drove slowly, giving myself time to think before I got to Ma’s. Caroline and Bernard. The words went round and round like a train on a track. My head ached with it. How did Bernard feel about Caroline? Was he mad about her? How could he not be? Everyone else was. And where did that leave me? And what about Shane?

The driveway at Mam’s house was full, which meant there were two cars in it. I recognised Jane’s (booster seats, headless dolls, sawn-off shotguns – the pretend kind – shards of cornflakes, crisps and crackers, and a ‘baby on board’ sticker fading on the back window). Mam’s car was there as well, an immaculately maintained VW Polo, pert and pristine, neatly parked in the driveway, flush against the garden wall. I drove halfway down the street to find a parking spot. When I arrived at the house, I was hot and a little out of breath from the hike up the street – it sloped slightly. I threw my cigarette butt into the long grass of the front garden and watched the red tip burn and fade.

‘Grace, what are you doing, just standing there? Come in, come in, child.’ My mother stood in the porch, gesturing me forward with her arms outstretched. I was on my guard immediately. Mam looked delighted. I’d never seen her so happy. And she was wearing make-up. I could tell because there was lipstick smudged on her teeth. Also, her eyelashes were stuck together in wet clumps where she had experimented with mascara. My mother never wore make-up. Not even when Dad was alive. ‘She doesn’t need it,’ Dad would say when we commented on it. ‘All the other mothers wear make-up.’ We were disappointed by her lapse in this regard. ‘Your mother is a natural beauty,’ Dad explained to us.

Mam tugged at my arm, leading me into the house.

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