Second Time Around. Erin Kaye
Читать онлайн книгу.
of thanks. If Matt had moved away, what would she have done? He was the one person who understood her best and loved her in spite of the way she was. Mum and Dad were always trying to change her, to mould her into the popular, cool daughter they so clearly desired.
Matt told her about the interview with someone called Ben, the new restaurant opening up where Peggy’s Kitchen used to be, when he hoped to start work. And Lucy listened to his animated chatter filled with joy. This was what she’d hoped for as they moved into adulthood – both of them living in, or close to, Ballyfergus.
Unlike her flatmate Fran, who came from Ballyclare, and Bernie, who hailed from Limavady, Lucy had never yearned to leave her small town roots behind. Fran and Bernie loathed the places they came from and vowed to never go back. Lucy, who listened with astonishment as they derided their hometowns, had no desire to live anywhere else.
She was not jealous of Matt. She loved him too much to envy him. But she could not help but contrast the direction his life was taking with her own. He had always known what he wanted to do while she, full of uncertainty and doubt, still had no idea.
‘Mum and Donna were having lunch there,’ went on Matt. ‘It was a bit embarrassing. Mum went all soppy when she found out I got the job. I thought she was going to kiss me at one point but, thank God, she only patted me on the cheek.’
They both laughed heartily at this and Lucy managed to say, ‘But you’d be disappointed if she did any less.’
‘I guess so. Though I’m still going to move out.’
‘But why?’ she said surprised. ‘You and Mum get on really well.’ If Matt moved into a place of his own, or worse, a shared flat or house, she’d not see so much of him. ‘And, it’s cheaper living at home,’ she argued, trying to think up reasons to deter him. ‘You’ll have more money to spend, and save, if you don’t waste it on rent. That way you could save up a deposit on a flat of your own.’
He cocked his head to one side, considering this. ‘That’s true but I really need my own place. I love Mum but it can be difficult sometimes, living at home.’
‘In what way?’ said Lucy, astounded. She knew that it would be difficult for her to live at home full time. Mum was always picking on her, moaning about how she managed her money, needling her about her social life, expecting her to do things around the house she didn’t ask of Matt. And though she would’ve died for her brother, there was no doubt in Lucy’s mind that Matt was the favourite.
‘Well, you know what she’s like about smoking in the house,’ he said, reluctantly, as if uncomfortable talking about their mother like this behind her back. ‘And she’s right, I guess. It’s her house, after all,’ he added hastily, and waited for Lucy’s nod of agreement before going on. ‘Well, Rory had a smoke in the TV room the other night and she was none too pleased. It wasn’t a big deal but it’s hard living under parent’s rules when you’re an adult.’
‘Still, I wouldn’t do anything too hasty, if I was you,’ she said quickly, looking out the passenger door window to hide the colour in her cheeks, brought forth by the notion of her, of all people, dishing out financial advice. If only Matt knew …
She yawned then, the heat of the car making her sleepy. She’d hardly slept the night before worrying about that bank manager and his threats.
‘Hard week?’ said Matt, leaning over to change radio channels.
‘Oh, just the usual,’ said Lucy nonchalantly and she thought back on the last, typical week at uni. She’d spent four of the last five nights in her pokey single room in the subdivided house. On Tuesday night she’d gone to the cinema with Amy, one of her few friends, to see a horror film.
‘All that partying’s catching up on you,’ he said and winked conspiratorially.
Lucy forced a grin and looked out the window again. She longed to tell Matt the reality of university life – how much she hated her course; how lonely it was; how she didn’t seem to fit in anywhere; how much she missed Muffin. Matt knew her better than anyone else, yet she still could not be herself entirely, even with him.
‘That’s the one thing I regret about not going to uni,’ went on Matt, wistfully. ‘The craic must be great.’ He shook his head regretfully and Lucy opened her mouth to reassure him that he wasn’t missing anything, but Matt, who was never down for long, brightened. ‘But you know me. I’d much rather be doing something than poring over dusty books. That was never my style, was it? You were always the clever one,’ he said without malice.
How could he not see the truth? She wasn’t clever, not clever enough anyway. She’d failed to get the grades for vet school. And she’d never forget the look on her father’s face the night she’d told him she wouldn’t be following in his footsteps.
Matt’s mobile, lying on his lap, flashed and he picked it up and quickly scanned the incoming text, keeping one eye on the road ahead. He chuckled.
‘What is it?’ said Lucy.
‘It’s Paul. He wants to know if I’m coming out for a pint tomorrow night.’
‘Will you go then?’
‘Aye, probably,’ he said and she bit her lip on her disappointment. He tossed the phone on his lap and Lucy glared at it jealously. She had hoped they might spend some time together. Matt was so popular, and had a talent for making new friends. Within weeks of starting his catering course he’d been pals with everyone. And if he wasn’t actually out socialising, he was never done texting and tweeting and posting things on Facebook.
‘Here we are. Home, sweet home.’ Matt pulled up in front of a modest detached house in a small leafy development of ten houses just off The Roddens. It had been quite a shock after the big house they’d lived in before their parents split up twelve years ago. Jennifer had tried to sell this new home in Oakwood Grove to Lucy on the basis that it was better located, but she wasn’t fooled. Nothing good had come out of her parents’ divorce. In fact, it had marked the start of everything going wrong for Lucy.
As soon as she opened the front door Muffin came bumbling slowly up the hall. His bony tail, the only part of him that moved with any exuberance these days, thwacked against the wall. He was a black and white collie, breathless from lack of exercise because he could not walk very far on his arthritic paws. And he was almost deaf. But his chin lifted when he realised it was his Lucy come home. He let out a little whine of delight and raised his snout in the air.
Lucy dropped to her knees, her eyes filled with tears at the sight of him, and he came over to her and sat down. He rested his head on her shoulder and let out a long contented sigh. Lucy buried her face in his coarse, dry fur, the lustrous glossiness of his youth long gone. And then he yelped and jumped back – Lucy, shuffling on the carpet, had leant her weight on his front paw.
‘I’m sorry, Muffin!’ she cried. She would rather hurt herself than her best friend. Like Matt, Muffin’s love was unconditional. He didn’t care that she was unattractive and had no friends. He simply loved her. And she him.
‘Hey, what’s up, old boy?’ said Matt, stepping around them both. He touched the dog on the head. Muffin licked Matt’s hand and sat down again.
‘I accidentally knelt on his paw. Oh, look Matt. He’s holding it up. Do you think it’ll be all right?’ She hugged the dog again and whispered, ‘I’m so sorry, Muffin. It was an accident. I never meant to hurt you.’ Sensing her distress the dog, still seated, licked her face and his tail swept across the carpet like a broom.
‘He’ll be all right in a minute,’ said Matt. ‘He’s always hurting himself. Walking into things. Happens all the time.’
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. She struggled to her feet and Muffin ambled slowly back up the hall to the kitchen where he spent most of his time now curled up in his bed. He flopped down with a weary sigh and Lucy said, ‘Oh, don’t say that, Matt.’
Matt came over and patted her briefly on the shoulder. ‘He’s