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  ‘But it’s not my birthday until tomorrow,’ Raegan protested, laughing, but Marie waved her away.

  ‘Zip it! I’m just chuffed you’re not one of those girls who only drinks Diet Coke. Bor-ing! Back in a sec.’

  As Marie disappeared into the crowd, Raegan climbed onto one of the metal stools and balanced awkwardly, discovering with some discomfort that these were the kind of chairs that looked good but caused your bum to slide off at various angles unless you kept it clenched the entire time. Awesome. Shifting from one side to other and trying to find a more stable position, she eventually gave up and perched on the edge, surveying her surroundings with interest. There were low-slung red leather booths surrounding the vinyl dancefloor where girls in promdresses were already dancing. Guitars, memorabilia and black and white photos – she recognised Elvis Presley amongst the faces beaming out at her – adorned the walls. Gaggles of men and women of all ages queued up giggling to choose a song on the jukebox, as waiters and waitresses whizzed through the throng on rollerskates, holding platters of nachos, burgers and fries above their heads. Marie was right. For an underage venue, this place was pretty cool.

  Marie returned with two enormous milkshakes and soon after a waitress appeared to take their food order. After she left, a slight awkwardness sprung up between the girls, which seemed to be enhanced by the starting chords of a love-song blaring slushily from the jukebox. They slurped quietly for a moment.

  Raegan was suddenly aware of how much she didn’t know about the girl sitting across the table. Their revelations in the jewellery shop had brought them together but now seemed useless – she could hardly start the evening off with a conversation about their dead parents! Fortunately it wasn’t long before Marie broke the silence.

  ‘God, it’s good to be out of the house! All this revision has been doing my head in.’

  ‘Must be awesome to have a break from school, though,’ Raegan replied with a smile.

  ‘I wish. Dad wants me in the shop for like, the whole of our spring break. Oh my days, he means well, but I can’t stand that place.’

  ‘How come? It’s nice, I think.’ Raegan picked the strawberry off the side of her glass and popped it into her mouth.

  ‘Oh, it’s alright, I suppose. I’m just not that bothered about jewellery – I mean, I wear it, but who cares how a diamond is cut? Then I feel bad, because it means a lot to Dad but… I find it such a snore. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘Totally. My mum was really into art – she worked in a gallery – but I don’t get it.’ Raegan gestured at a jokey abstract hanging nearby, which was a white canvas with bright, intermittent bursts of colour, like fireworks on clouds. ‘You see, look at that. Mum probably would have said it was ‘important’, a ‘retelling of sunset’, or something. To me, it looks...well… like a load of random blobs.’

  Marie looked at the painting blankly, tilting her head from side to side as if trying to find some hidden meaning – before finally admitting defeat, shaking her head, puzzled. The ice broken, the two girls laughed.

  ‘But seriously,’ Raegan continued, ‘you should talk to your dad. Maybe if you found another job, something you’re actually interested in, then he’d understand?’

  ‘It’s just difficult, since we lost my mam.’ Marie said the last part very quickly. ‘He has no one to talk to about this stuff. It was their shop… it’s kind of all we have left of her.’ She looked off into the distance, lost in thought.

  ‘He needs me. And I want to be there for him. But I want time for my own stuff too. Oh, sometimes I just wish-‘

  She stopped midsentence and without warning her eyes hardened, focusing on something out of Raegan’s view.

  ‘What?’ Raegan asked, shifting in her seat and scanning the crowd. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Don’t look!’ Marie remonstrated, so sharply that Raegan immediately turned back. ‘Sorry. I’ll tell you a minute.’

  Tensely, Marie leaned forward as if to place her glass on the table, motioning for Raegan to do the same.

  ‘He’s here.’ She hissed. ‘Dafydd. My ex. Crap!’

  ‘Oh no,’ Raegan whispered back. ‘Where?’

  ‘Over there. No, don’t look yet! Now, turn your head to the right. Not so fast or it’ll be really obvious! He’s at the edge of the dance floor, the one in the pink shirt.’

  Raegan inclined her head slightly and glanced out from underneath her eyelashes. She clocked him straight away. Wearing a baby pink shirt, low-riding jeans and pointed brown shoes, he obviously thought a lot of himself. Raegan had to admit that he was good-looking: stocky, muscular, with dark curly hair and big brown eyes. But the waves of arrogance rolling off him made her lip curl.

  ‘He looks good, doesn’t he? Creep.’ Marie pushed her plate of fries away untouched, colour rising in her cheeks. Then she spotted something that made her eyes bulge.

  ‘What?’ Raegan asked anxiously.

  ‘He’s brought her. Candace. The one he cheated on me with.’

  Raegan touched her arm sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry. You okay?’

  Marie wasn’t listening. ‘And I bet afterwards he’ll be taking her to the Shack. Well, good luck to her if she can stand it there. It’s a mouldy, abandoned old house, for god’s sake! In the middle of Lydgale Forest! But they all think it’s so-o-o cool. Losers.’

  ‘Look, shall we just go?’ Raegan, uncomfortably familiar with the situation, hated to see her friend upset.

  ‘Where?’ Marie laughed, welsh accent thickening with sarcasm. ‘That’s the problem with this town, babes. There isn’t anywhere to go. ’

  She slammed her glass down with enough force to make the table rattle. When she looked up, her dark eyes were blazing. Raegan felt a sense of foreboding.

  ‘Come on. Let’s hit the bar.’

  ***

  After this declaration, Marie was on a quest for oblivion and equally determined to take Raegan with her. The first time she ordered two glasses of wine, it was a thrill; sipping at the illicit, cool liquid, the alcohol burning her throat, Raegan felt as if everything was coming into a new, sharp focus. She was finally awake. With each gulp she was raising two fingers to Bridey, and to Con, and everyone at her old school who had thought she was such a goodie goodie.

  But then one glass turned into another, and then another, and then a whole bottle had been ordered and drained – and mostly by Marie. The rollercoaster pace set by her friend was exciting, and perhaps it would have been easier to just go with it; but almost as soon as she had finished her first glass Raegan felt uneasy. She was underage. They both were. She didn’t want to give herself away so she decided to focus on Marie, watching out for her friend and drinking as slowly as possible. She could hardly leave her. The more Marie drank, the more outrageous she became: dancing provocatively whilst pretending she was completely unaware of Dafydd’s presence, unhooking so many buttons down the top of her dress that she was in danger of showing the room her little butterfly tattoo (Raegan had not been given the option – Marie had flashed her cleavage in the toilets) and leaving Raegan breathless, unable to keep up, catapulted into the here and now.

  They were attracting a lot of attention, and Raegan, unused to the spotlight, was not sure how to feel. Soon she became aware that two guys were paying them more attention than most. Everywhere they moved to, these two would also appear, hovering on the fringes. They seemed content to wait. It was odd but not exactly unpleasant. As Raegan stood with Marie at the bar, determinedly ordering herself a pint of tap water and not another wine, she spotted them again. Surreptitiously she moved closer to Marie. ‘Do you know those blokes over there? I think they’re following us.’

  Marie turned to her, her brown eyes shining but unfocused. ‘What? What you talking about? There are lads everywhere.’

  ‘Those ones,’ Raegan tried to make herself heard over the loud music. ‘Opposite us. Older. And they have really good… hair.’ One of them caught her eye and smiled, and Raegan felt a pleasing tingle of hea
t sweep through her. He was very good-looking.

  Marie turned her head to look, and then began to wave enthusiastically, much to Raegan’s alarm. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I know them,’ Marie crowed. ‘They were on the pier earlier. And they were totally checking me out. This is amazing, they must be in their twenties! This is it, Rae! We’re in.’

  The two guys were now approaching and Raegan’s nerves went into overdrive. Marie, by contrast, blossomed; as Raegan pushed her hair out of her face artlessly, Marie smoothed down her outfit and leaned seductively against the bar. And as the men drew nearer, it became clearer, too, just how gorgeous they were. Though one was tall and dark, and the other fair and small, everything about them was fine: from the curtains of their hair, gleaming under the multicoloured lights, to their delicate features, which would not have been out of place in the classical artworks Raegan had never appreciated. Here, in breathing flesh and bone, the sight was amazing. They had to be the best-looking men Raegan had ever seen.

  Marie took the lead. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ she asked, smiling coyly. ‘Oh yeah, you were down the docks today, right? I wanted to introduce myself but was in a mad rush, just couldn’t stop, you know.’

  ‘How fortuitous that we should meet again.’ The taller gentleman took Marie’s proffered hand. At first, Raegan thought he was going to kiss it, because there was something old fashioned about him; instead, he clasped her palm for a brief spell, and then shook it gently. Raegan was glad – the moment would have been ruined by a cheesy gesture. ‘My name is Philip.’

  ‘Marie,’ Her friend giggled, then turned her flirtatious brown eyes to Philip’s companion, sliding them over to Raegan momentarily and back again. ‘And this is Raegan. Pleased to meet you both.’

  Raegan nodded at Philip and turned to his companion, who was looking at her lazily. ‘I’m Raegan,’ she began, her mouth suddenly dry.

  ‘Christian.’ He did not offer his hand. Instead, his eyes, which were the cold blue of the morning sea, continued to study her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  ‘We have reserved one of the VIP tables,’ she heard Philip say. Her eyes were still locked with Christian’s. The pounding beat of the music was originating from inside of her, quite without warning. ‘We’d be delighted if you could join us.’

  She couldn’t tell if it was attraction, or the heady mix of the alcohol, but it was overwhelming: so sudden and so strange. She could only nod dumbly in response to Philip’s request, and, accepting the pressure of Christian’s arm on her back, follow.

  ***

  They sat pressed together in a shadowy alcove. For how long, she could not remember afterwards. She was left only with a faint imprint of registering that her body did not belong to her anymore. It moved sluggishly, and actions felt unconnected to thoughts. The movements at the table washed over her, like a dream.

  And then, without warning, she was suddenly in the here and now – where she had been in those lost seconds, she could not tell - and the world slammed back into misty focus. Feeling a bit queasy, she looked around for Marie. She was not there.

  ‘Where’s Marie?’ The words seemed to take a long time to emerge.

  ‘Dancing with Philip.’ Christian moved closer to her. ‘Just over there, look.’ Raegan didn’t dare move her head; the room was starting to spin. He laughed. ‘Oh dear. Too much to drink?’

  Raegan, still focusing on the table top, nodded. ‘Please, don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Oh, do not be embarrassed.’ Christian’s arm felt heavy around her shoulder. How long had it been there? ‘It happens to us all.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ He was stroking her shoulder now, the long, elegant fingers brushing the neck of her dress. ‘Marie bought the drinks. I don’t want to get her in trouble.’

  ‘Never fear. I have no wish to upset my beautiful companion. You are no trouble at all.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I’m only fifteen. I’m not allowed to drink.’

  The coolness of her skin alerted her that the stroking had now ceased, as had the pressure of his arm around her neck. A hazy sense of embarrassment flooded through her, and her dress had slid revealingly off her shoulder; she pulled it up.

  When her eyes found him, Christian was further away than she had expected. His face was impassive.

  ‘The diner will be closing soon. It is best that you leave before then.’

  His words rang alarm bells in her head. Closing soon? But that would mean it was nearly two o’clock! How could that be true? With considered effort, she struggled to her feet, and clutched at her handbag. It was like moving through water. She scanned the dancefloor. She could not see Marie anywhere.

  Turning back to the booth, her question died on her lips. The alcove was deserted. She was alone.

  Chapter Four: Sixteen

  The enormous cake wobbled slightly as Bridey set it down, studying the frosted surface anxiously. The tiered construction alternated layers of vanilla sponge with raspberry cream and a rich chocolate sponge with fudge centre, all covered with delicately piped, pale pink icing. Her concerns were unfounded; it was a mouth-watering masterpiece. But Bridey stood in front of it for a long while. She was determined that everything should be perfect today.

  When Con returned from picking up the morning paper some time later, Bridey was suddenly very thankful for those snatched, precious moments of peace. Her mind felt so full. She supposed it was something she was meant to get used to; she was older and her brain was now like an overstuffed closet, brimming with all the baggage she had accumulated over the years. Keeping secrets, never easy, seemed such a struggle now. Age had made her more easily forgetful but most of all she had simply lost patience with it: looking back over her life, she felt acutely that the sacrifices, the burden of suppression and the loss of Joseph, had not been worth the misery. She wanted to embrace her granddaughter, not continually keep her at arm’s length for fear of what she might let slip. It was the only point on which she and Con had not seen eye to eye for the past decade or so.

  At least he had agreed not to punish Raegan for the previous evening’s mishaps and Bridey was able to stick to the original plan: a home-cooked celebratory luncheon, just the three of them (which had been delayed quite a bit as the birthday girl showed no signs of surfacing after her late night); though Con expressed misgivings as to whether Raegan’s sixteenth birthday was something to celebrate. And though Bridey did not falter throughout her festive preparations – rolling out pastry, icing the cake and wrapping gifts with the same deft decisiveness - she shared her husband’s reservations. They might not agree on how it should be achieved but they were equal in their determination to keep their granddaughter safe – which was becoming increasingly difficult as she blossomed and they aged. And cutting through it all was the ever-present sense of absence; Bridey’s heart gave a great lurch as she considered how differently today might have been... if only...

  A hand on her shoulder interrupted these maudlin thoughts. It was heavy but comforting, silently attesting that she was not alone in her grief. She gripped it with one of her own. After a moment, Con moved to stand beside her.

  ‘Sixteen already.’

  ‘Hard to believe.’

  ‘And yet so easy,’ Bridey said sadly. ‘She seems so much older, sometimes.’

  ‘She’s been through a lot.’

  ‘Too much. I wish I could give her it all back. But loss… changes a person. Steals the years away. The innocence. It all gets taken, somehow.’

  ‘She looked every inch the bright young thing when I picked her up last night,’ he said softly. ‘Though I could’ve strangled her for being so careless.’

  He sounded tired; beaten down, somehow. But before Bridey had a chance to ask what was on his mind, the door opened with a tentative creak and the object of their ruminations stepped into the room.

  Raegan, still dressed in her baggy Eeyore pyjamas, looked decidedly unbright (her complexion was pa
sty and puffy as Bridey’s uncooked piecrust, in fact). She hung her head.

  ‘Morning.’

  Con grunted and turned away as if he could not bring himself to look at her. Bridey had no such reticence; rushing forward, she enveloped her granddaughter in a warm, floury embrace. ‘Oh, happy birthday, darling girl! Take a seat there next to your grandda. Lunch won’t be a moment. Would you like some fizzy stuff? We were going to mix it with orange juice…’ She took in the greenness of Raegan’s complexion and for the first time her smile wavered. ‘Maybe not just yet, eh? How about a nice coffee instead?’

  Raegan nodded gratefully.

  After pouring both Raegan and Con a huge cup of freshly-brewed coffee, Bridey bustled off to finish her final preparations. Raegan took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid and avoided her grandfather’s eye, all the while trying not to throw up. What had she been drinking? She felt awful. Getting out of bed had not been easy; in fact she’d nearly given up completely when faced with the steep, rickety staircase, which seemed to go in and out of focus as she crawled down it. She’d slept for ages but didn’t even remember getting into bed. She knew she had dreamed, though; sweaty night-time terrors full of people with hoods and timepieces held in the air. Typical – the first dream she could remember in months and it was a random, wine-soaked nightmare!

  In fact the dream was less hazy than the end of the evening itself. She remembered meeting Philip and Christian, the four of them dancing, and then… nothing. Blackness, until that final conversation in the booth, Christian’s arm tightly around her shoulder. She flushed when she remembered admitting that she was underage and how he had suddenly lost interest. She must’ve looked like a stupid little girl to him.

  Marie obviously hadn’t had that problem with Philip or she wouldn’t have left. Raegan frowned. It stung that Marie had ditched her; why didn’t she even say goodbye? Raegan wouldn’t have tried to tag along. And if she had known Marie was leaving she could’ve at least got a key from her and stayed the night at the Vallences’ as planned. Instead she had staggered around the unfamiliar streets for ages trying to find a phone box so she could call her grandfather. And then…inwardly, she quailed. She didn’t want to remember what happened next. She was sure Con had been furious by the time he came to fetch her.