Bouncing Castle

I lay in bed trying to block out Rosaleen’s words which were being repeated over and over in my mind. There was a history I knew nothing of, that was certain, but there was nothing I could do now to try and find out what that was and what she could have meant. Yesterday was a closed book, tomorrow, however, was another story. I reread the entry for tomorrow over and over again, feeling fired up. There was much to plan for. As I lay in bed running through all the things I should do in my limited time tomorrow, knowing that Rosaleen and Arthur wouldn’t be returning until one o’clock on the button, it did little to help me relax. It was a humid July night. It was either going to be a stormy night or tomorrow would be a scorcher. I opened my bedroom window, hoping for some air, and kicked off my covers. I lay in the blue light of the moon, watching the oily sky glisten with stars.

As I listened to the silence, I suddenly heard owls hoot, the occasional sheep and cow call for attention; the sounds of the country night that I’d grown used to drifted into my room. Now and then there was a welcome light breeze and each time I heard the leaves on the trees gently rustle, they too thankful for the cool air. Eventually I became a little chilly and reached to close the window when I realised the sounds that I’d thought were birds chirping were actually voices in the distance. In the country who knew how far such sounds could carry, but as I listened out for them again, I heard the distinct rise and fall of conversation and sudden laughter, perhaps music and then silence again as the breeze stopped carrying their noise. It was coming from the direction of the castle.

It was 11.30 p.m. I threw on a tracksuit and trainers, the floor creaking beneath my feet as I moved around as daintily as possible in my room. With each creak I froze, expecting the sleeping giant to awaken at any moment. I moved the chair away from the bedroom door and gently opened it. It would be a feat to get downstairs and out the front door without alerting the mistress of the house. I heard Rosaleen cough and I stalled, then immediately closed my door again. I’d never heard her cough at night before, I took it as a warning.

I climbed on the bed to avoid walking on the creaky floorboards and crawled along the mattress to reach the window. It was an old springy mattress and it made a noise but at least it sounded legitimately as though I was turning over. I took the torch from the bedside locker and pushed the window open further. Sizewise, I could fit through it without a problem. My bedroom was directly over the front porch. Though the roof was pointed, I could, with great concentration, land on it. From there it would be a relatively easy climb down the wooden fencing on the porch and straight to the ground. Easy.

Suddenly Rosaleen and Arthur’s bedroom door opened and there were quick footsteps down the corridor. I dived back into the bed and covered myself from head to toe with the duvet, making sure my tracksuit and trainers, and the torch, weren’t visible. I scrunched my eyes shut just as my bedroom door opened. The window was wide open and to my trained ear the voices from afar seemed so loud I was sure my intentions would be obvious.

My heart thudded loudly in my chest as the person was suddenly in my room. The floorboards creaked, one by one as the figure came closer to me. It was Rosaleen. I knew by the way she held her breath, by the scent. The creaking stopped, which meant she was standing still. Watching. Watching me.

I fought hard not to open my eyes. I tried to relax my lids, not allow my eyeballs to roll around too much. I tried to breathe normally, a little louder than usual to show my deep slumber. I felt a body hover over me and I almost jumped up to attack, but I heard the window close and realised she was leaning over me to reach it. I contemplated opening my eyes, catching her out, making a drama. But what could I gain from this?

‘Rosaleen.’ I heard a hiss from my bedroom door. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m just making sure she’s all right.’

‘Of course she’s okay. She’s not a baby any more. Come back to bed.’

I felt a hand on my cheek, then fingers gently pushed my hair back to behind my ear just like my mother used to do. Then I waited for the duvet to be pulled off me and for my midnight prowl costume to be revealed, but instead I felt her breath on my face, felt her lips brush against my forehead in a gentle kiss, and then she was gone. The door closed.

She’s not a baby any more.

After she left I waited until Arthur’s snores began again. Then I got out of bed, pushed the window open and didn’t think twice before climbing out and landing gently on the slate archway of the porch. It was only when I landed on the grass and looked up at the house, at my bedroom, at the closed‑over window, that I understood the meaning behind my message to myself not to close the window.

Using the torch I made my way towards the castle, following the voices. I could see only a few feet ahead of me, the rest of the world had been swallowed up by the black hole of night. The trees seemed to hold even more secrets at nighttime, and in the darkness their ‘sssh’ sound to one another led me to believe there was more they weren’t telling me. As I got closer to the castle, I heard voices, I smelled smoke, heard music, heard the clink of glasses or bottles. I could see light coming from the entrance hall and the room with the intact windows to the right. The rest of the rooms to the left and to the back were black. I turned off the torch and made my way around the back of the castle, passing two rooms that I’m sure had a grand view of the lake behind and the hundreds of steps that led down to it. I reached the window room I’d climbed out of before, and I listened.

A night light made up of stars circled the old wall. Yellow stars moved around and, thinking the room was empty, I leaned in to watch, though the real ones which were visible through the opposite window were far more impressive. I thought I was alone watching them until I heard the slurping sound of kissing. And that was quickly followed by a scream.

There was lots of running, lots of shushing, lots of cans and bottles being knocked over. Lots of whispering. Then I felt a hand pull at my hair and grab me by the scruff of my neck and I was literally dragged all the way to the castle.

‘Hey, let go.’ I kicked. ‘Get your fucking hands off me.’

I swatted at the hands around my waist, which were definitely male hands as I was half lifted and half dragged. I thanked Rosaleen for her carbohydrate‑rich diet then and the extra few pounds I’d put on since arriving, or else I’d have been easily thrown over his shoulder. Once inside and placed fully on the ground, he kept his arm round my waist and remained behind me. I turned round a few times to see an ugly‑looking thing with fluff on his chin. Six people stared at me. Some were sitting on the stairs, others on crates on the floor. I felt like shouting at them to get out of my house.

‘She was watching us,’ the screamer said, arriving at the doorway, panting as though about to faint from the ordeal.

‘I wasn’t watching,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘That’s totally gross.’

‘She’s an American,’ one guy said.

‘I’m not American.’

‘You sound American,’ another one said.

‘Hey it’s Hannah Montana.’

Lots of laughs.

‘I’m from Dublin.’

‘No she’s not.’

‘Yes I am.’

‘You’re a long way from Dublin.’

‘I’m just here for the summer.’

‘On vacation,’ someone said, and they all laughed again.

A guy appeared at the doorway behind the squealer. He listened for a while as I tried to defend myself with a screechy embarrassing voice that I just couldn’t seem to control, and I wondered how on earth I had ended up being the uncool person in this room of hicksville inhabitants.

‘ Gary, let go of her,’ the latest arrival finally said.

Gary fluffy chin let go immediately. I’d identified the leader.

Once released, I gathered myself.

‘Can I take any more questions from the room? Perhaps you sir, in the fleece jacket and Doc Martens, would you like to ask a question to me about the days when Guns n’Roses were cool?’

Someone smirked, was elbowed, then cried out in pain. Gary fluffy chin, still behind me, dug me in the back, which really hurt.

‘I just heard you all from my room. I was in bed.’ I realised I sounded like the greatest annoyance on the planet, like a child who’d interrupted on her parents’ dinner party.

‘You live nearby?’

‘She’s lying.’

‘Well, where the hell do you think I live? I just flew over from LA for a midnight stroll?’

‘Are you staying in the gatehouse?’

‘The royal gatehouse,’ somebody else said and they all started laughing.

Okay, so it was far from being Buckingham Palace, but it was better than a lot of the other shithole barn houses I saw as we drove here. I looked from one face to the other, trying to decide my answer. How stupid would it be of me to tell them where I was staying?

‘Oh, no, I just live in a cowshed and sleep with pigs just like the rest of you,’ I snapped back. ‘I don’t know what your big problem is. It’s not as if he looks like he’s from around here, either.’

I was referring to the dark‑skinned leader of the gang who was standing at the doorway just staring at me. Go for the leader in hostage situations, take them out. It wasn’t the cleverest idea really.

They all looked at each other with wide eyes and I could hear ‘racist’ being said over and over.

‘That’s not racist.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘He’s wearing Dsquared. Last time I checked hicksville, population nil, it didn’t stock Dsquared.’

Really, I wasn’t being very clever. I’ve seen Deliverance ; I know what they can make you do and I’d already accused them of sleeping with pigs, which wasn’t a great beginning to what probably should have been an apology. I saw their leader’s teeth flash as he smiled briefly and then he covered his mouth with his hand as the rest of the gang went into overdrive, squaring up to me with pointed fingers and calling me a racist over and over again, even though I’d clearly explained my thoughts on why he stood out. The guy at the doorway called them all to stop, tried to reason with the squealer and a few drunken others, and then eventually grabbed me and pulled me outside and round the back of the castle, back to the scene of the crime; the window where I’d supposedly spied.

‘Is this where you pretend to kill me but really let me loose?’ I asked, a little nervously. A lot nervously. Okay, I thought he was going to beat me up.

He smiled. ‘You’re Tamara, aren’t you?’

My mouth dropped. ‘How did you…’ And then the penny dropped. ‘You’re Weseley.’

It was his turn to look surprised. ‘Arthur told you about me?’

‘Arthur? Eh, yeah, of course he did. He talks about you all the time.’

He looked confused. ‘He told me about you too.’

‘He did?’

I didn’t think Arthur would speak of me at all. I couldn’t even imagine what he’d say.

‘Smoke?’

I took one and he struck up a match. When he lit it I could see his face properly. His skin was a milky chocolate, not ebony, but beautifully dark. His eyes were big and brown, his eyelashes so long, I was momentarily jealous as in my previous life I spent a lot of my pocket money on false ones with glitter. His lips were big and juicy, his teeth perfectly straight and white, with a nice jaw, perfect cheekbones. He was so good‑looking I was kind of jealous. He was taller than me, a head taller. The match burned down to his finger and he dropped it. I realised then he must have been looking at me too. He lit it again and I inhaled. It had been too long.

‘Thanks.’

‘No problem.’

‘What the hell are you doing, Wes? Oh, now you’re having a smoke with her? She’s related to that freak family, I hope you know.’ The squealer appeared round the corner, another girl in her wake, and wobbled her way unevenly to us, filling the air with the scent of a Body Shop gift basket.

‘Calm down, Kate,’ he said.

‘No, I will not fucking calm down…’ She went on a tirade of drunken nonsense and then started to hit him over and over again with her purse. Her friend pulled her away.

‘Fine.’ She shook her friend off, then grabbed her again before she fell, almost bringing her down with her. ‘I’m going home anyway.’

‘Ouch.’ I looked at him.

‘It didn’t hurt.’

‘A fake Louis Vuitton‑are you joking? I felt the pain just looking at it.’

‘You’re a snob,’ he smiled.

‘You’re a bad boyfriend.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

‘Whatever.’

‘You want a drink?’

I nodded way too enthusiastically. He laughed, then disappeared headfirst through the window, back into the castle. I followed him in.

‘Hey Weseley, you’re not giving Hannah Montana our cans, are you?’

Weseley ignored Gary and handed me a can.

‘What is this?’

‘Diamond White.’

‘Never heard of it.’

‘How can I explain this so that you’d understand?’ He thought hard. ‘Think of it as champagne, but made with apples.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘If you think I drink champagne then you don’t know me at all.’

‘Well, I don’t, do I? It’s cider. Americans call it hard cider.’

‘I’m not American.’

‘You don’t sound Irish.’

‘And you don’t look Irish. Maybe Irish as the world knows it has changed.’ I gasped sarcastically. ‘Oh my God, who should we tell?’

‘My mam has red hair and freckles.’

‘So she must be Swedish.’

He laughed, then pointed at a crate behind me and I sat down. He sat opposite me.

‘Where’s your dad from?’

‘ Madagascar.’

‘Cool, like in the movie?’

‘Yep, exactly like the Disney animation,’ he said heavily.

‘You ever go there?’

‘No.’

‘How come he moved here?’

‘Because.’

‘Ah.’ I nodded understandingly. ‘Always a good reason.’

We both laughed.

Someone in the next room said something about me being a racist again.

‘I only meant your clothes,’ I said quietly. ‘You’re dressed better than John Boy in there, and Mary Ellen, who walked off in her fake Uggs in a puff of Dewberry.’

He laughed and exhaled at the same time, his eyes steady on mine. ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

‘So you said. But that’s not what my super spy glasses told me.’

‘Yeah well that was just…’ He stomped out his cigarette and then put the butt in a jar. I was thankful for that. I felt like I was a parent and had returned home to find the kids had trashed my house. ‘There are buses, you know,’ he said. ‘Things with wheels that carry people to the big smoke.’

‘From where?’ I think my reaction would have been the same if he’d revealed a cure for cancer. A way out of here…

‘Dunshaughlin. It’s less than thirty minutes in the car.’

‘And how do you get there?’

‘My dad drives me.’

Well, mine is dead.

‘By the way, is this yours?’ He rooted around in a bag and handed me a pen. It was the one I’d stolen from Arthur’s writing desk and had dropped yesterday.

I had a feeling someone was there. Someone was watching me.

‘Were you here yesterday?’

‘Em…’ he thought hard.

‘You shouldn’t have to think about it,’ I snapped.

‘I don’t know. No. Yes. No, I don’t know if I was. I found the pen tonight, if that’s what you mean.’

‘You weren’t here yesterday when I was here?’

‘I’m here most days with Arthur.’ He still didn’t answer the question.

‘You are?’

‘Well, I have to be, don’t I?’

‘You do?’

‘I work with the man.’

‘Oh.’

‘I thought you said Arthur told you.’

‘Oh…yeah. So does Rosaleen know you work with Arthur?’

He nodded. ‘I don’t think she likes me being around, but since Arthur put his back out he needs a hand around here.’

‘How long have you worked with him?’

He thought hard and stared into the distance, ‘Ooh let’s see. Me and Arthur go back about…three weeks now.’

I started laughing.

‘We only moved here last month,’ he explained.

‘Really?’ I felt my heart lift. He was one of my kind. ‘From where?’

‘ Dublin.’

‘Me too!’ My excitement was way too Famous Five . ‘Sorry,’ I felt my face flush. ‘Just a little overexcited to meet a member of the same species. So how did you rise to be leader so quickly? Did you cast a spell? Show them how to make fire?’

‘I find that politeness goes a long way. Spying, party crashing and insults is a bit of a no‑no when you’re trying to fit in.’

‘I don’t want to fit in,’ I said sulkily. ‘I want to get out of here.’

We were silent then.

‘Do you know anything about what happened here? In this castle?’ I asked.

‘You mean with the Normans and everything?’

‘No, not that. What happened to the family who lived here, more recently.’

‘There was a fire or something, then they moved out.’

‘Wow, you should write history books.’

‘We’ve just moved here,’ he smiled. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I’m just wondering.’

He studied me for a while. ‘We could ask them if you want.’ He meant the group next door.

There was an eruption of laughter from the next room. I think they were playing Spin the Bottle.

‘No, it’s okay.’

‘Sister Ignatius would know. You know her, don’t you?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I told you, I work around here. I’m not blind.’

‘But I’ve never seen you.’

He shrugged.

‘She told me to ask Rosaleen and Arthur,’ I explained.

‘You should. You know Rosaleen lived in the bungalow across the road from the entrance all her life? If anyone knows, she would. She could probably tell you everything that’s happened around here for the past two hundred years.’

I couldn’t tell him that the diary stated I should not ask her anything. ‘I don’t know…I don’t think they want to talk about it. She’s so secretive. They must have known the people and if somebody died, well then, I don’t just want to blurt it out. I mean, they probably still know them. Arthur can’t be working for free. Actually,’ I clicked my fingers, ‘who pays you?’

‘Arthur does. Cash.’

‘Oh.’

‘So how come you’re here?’

‘I told you, I heard you from my bedroom.’

‘No, I mean, here in Kilsaney.’

‘Oh.’

Silence. I thought fast. Anything but the truth. I didn’t want his sympathy.

‘I thought you said Arthur told you about me.’

‘I’d deserve an award if I got anything more out of him. He just said that you and your mam are staying with them.’

‘We just, you know, we just had to move. Just for a little while. Probably only for the summer. We sold our house. And we’re waiting to buy a new one.’

‘Your dad’s not around?’

‘No, no, he, em…he left Mum, for someone else.’

‘Oh, man, sorry to hear it.’

‘Yeah, well…she’s a twenty‑year‑old model. She’s famous. She’s always in magazines. She brings me out clubbing with her.’

He frowned at me and I felt like an idiot. ‘Do you still see him?’

‘No. Not any more.’

I was following the rules of my diary. I wish I hadn’t told Weseley about Dad. But I didn’t feel better for it. I was lying to Marcus as it was, and that was kind of justifiable because everything with Marcus was one big fat lie, but I didn’t feel like lying to Weseley. Besides, he’d only find out from Arthur, in about ten years.

‘Weseley, sorry, that’s a lie.’ I rubbed my face. ‘My dad…he died.’

He sat up. ‘What? How?’

I should have said something else, like he died in war or‑I don’t know‑just something else like a more common kind of death.

‘Eh. Cancer.’ I wanted us to stop talking about it now. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t do it. I wanted him to stop asking me. ‘In his testicles.’

‘Oh.’

That did it.

I’d left after that. I thanked him and climbed back out the window. Halfway towards the house I stopped walking and turned round and ran back.

‘Weseley,’ I whispered, slightly out of breath, standing at the window. He was tidying away all the cans and butts from the window room.

‘Did you forget something?’

‘Eh, yeah…’ I whispered.

‘Why are we whispering?’ he whispered, smiling, and came towards the window and leaned on his elbows.

‘Because em…I don’t really like saying this out loud.’

‘Okay…’ His smile faded.

‘You’ll think I’m weird‑’

‘I already think you’re weird.’

‘Oh. Okay. Em. My dad didn’t die of cancer.’

‘No?’

‘No. I just said that because it was easier. Though the testicle part wasn’t very easy. That was just weird.’

He smiled gently. ‘How did he die?’

‘He killed himself. He swallowed a bottle of pills and whisky at the same time. On purpose. And I found him.’ I swallowed.

There it was. The face change that I wrote about. The pure look of sympathy. The nice look you’d give any horrible person. He was silent.

‘I just didn’t want to lie,’ I started to move away.

‘All right. Thanks for telling me.’

‘I’ve never told anyone.’

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

‘Okay thanks. I’m really going now.’

Cringe.

‘Good night.’

He leaned further out the window and raised his voice. ‘I’ll see you around, Tamara.’

‘Yep. Sure.’

I just wanted to get out of there.

The gang in the entrance hall all whistled and laughed and I disappeared back to the darkness.

I learned something important that night. You shouldn’t try to stop everything from happening. Sometimes you’re supposed to feel awkward. Sometimes you’re supposed to be vulnerable in front of people. Sometimes it’s necessary because it’s all part of you getting to the next part of yourself, the next day. The diary wasn’t always right.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 692