Jeanette McCarthy

            Griff came out of the movie theatre and stood on the sidewalk. He listened to what the other moviegoers were saying about his film, and was reminded of the Simpsons episode, when Homer and Bart are walking out past the ingoing queue, and Homer says: ‘who’d have guessed Darth Vader would turn out to be Luke’s father!’ 

            He tried to gauge the atmosphere. It was – well, OK. No one was raving about what a brilliant piece of art they’d just seen. No one was saying it had been utter crap. It was just OK. He began to walk down towards Figueroa, following two twenty-something men. 

            ‘That chick was hot,’ one of them said. ‘What’s her name again?’ 

            It seemed not even the actors had made much of an impression.

            He had come out of the same cinema as a teenager, having seen Blade Runner, and stood on this same sidewalk, and stared into space, overwhelmed by what he had seen.        The film’s imagery haunted him, drove him back to watch it over and over, to seek out all the director’s other work. The film changed him. He had always loved writing, but after that his stories grew darker, harder. He longed to write something that would touch people, the way he himself had been touched. In the years to come, he would sometimes joke that Harrison Ford had changed his life. 

            He looked back, but there was no one standing on the sidewalk staring into space.

            He walked away, and deep in his heart, a little hollow place began to form.

TWO

            Friday night, and the pub was heaving. A fine mist of smoke and laughter hung low in the room. Ellie, being the smallest, snuck through a gap in the crowd. 

            ‘Hoy! Billy! Three and a half!’

            The barman saw her and nodded, his lips moving as he tallied up the present round. 

            ‘Haven’t you got them in yet?’ Hannah complained behind her.

            ‘Give’s a chance.’ 

            She pushed against a woman at the bar, smiling in apology. The woman turned to her, her face angry, and Ellie felt a perverse pleasure when the woman’s expression suddenly changed. There were odd occasions when the scars were useful.

          Why thank you!

            Ellie grimaced, grabbing the drinks. She carried them in front of her like a talisman to clear her path.

            ‘Here we go, ladies.’

            ‘Fee, why don’t you drink pints?’ Lara complained, sneering at the half-pint of cider. ‘It’s pathetic. You’re letting the side down.’

            Ellie grinned. ‘Fiona’s the token female among us. Aren’t you?’

            Fiona raised a delicately plucked blonde eyebrow. ‘At least there is one,’ she said. 

            ‘Look, there’s Pete Ross,’ Lara took off through the crowd towards the local dealer.

‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

            Fiona’s face turned dark. ‘She’ll kill herself with that stuff-‘

            ‘Oh, leave it,’ Ellie said, sighing. ‘Look, there’s a seat by the juke box. Let’s go.’

            Hannah raised her pint glass once they had squeezed round the tiny table. ‘Here’s to your new desert island job, Ellie.’

            ‘Cheers! I’m looking forward to a better class of male talent than we have here.’

            ‘Wouldn’t be hard,’ Hannah replied, looking round. ‘Look at that bloke over there. Face like a bulldog chewing a wasp.’ She bit her lip, still staring at the bulldog as Lara returned, smiling widely. Her teeth looked very white against her dark skin. 

            Ellie grinned back. Lara was skinny. She’d been skinny before her illness, and had gotten even thinner during it. Now that she was well again, she could afford to put on some weight, but her lifestyle wouldn’t allow it. She was taller than Ellie and the others, tall enough that she could have been a model, with her dark hair and come-to-bed eyes.             She’d inherited those eyes from her Jamaican mother, together with her laid back attitude. Her high cheekbones and thin, angular face she’d got from her Glaswegian father, from whom she had also received all her bad habits. There were lots of them, Ellie mused. In fact, Lara had the full set. 

            There were no spare seats, so she knelt down. 

            ‘You’ll get filthy down there!’ Fiona said. 

            Lara shrugged. ‘Hey Ellie, when are you going?’

            ‘Tomorrow. When I wake up.’ Ellie grinned again. Now that the decision was made, she was looking forward to the move. It was always like this; the sense of hope and anticipation. Absently she wondered why the past few shitty jobs hadn’t dulled her expectations. She touched her face in case the scars had somehow vanished. They hadn’t.

            Of course we’re here! Where else would we be?

            ‘And do they have, like, phones up there?’

            ‘Of course. It’s not the bloody Congo, you know.’

            Lara shrugged again. Her dark eyes were starting to look glazed. ‘But I bet they don’t have decent pubs in the Highlands. Not like this.’

            ‘They will when I get there,’ said Ellie.

            The crowd in the Lismore was transient. People stopped in for a pint and then went somewhere else. Ellie had another beer and people-watched as the night wore on and the regulars began to outnumber the strangers. Hannah was now talking to the bulldog at the bar, her body language. as usual, contradictory; Han was flicking her straight blonde hair and smiling, but her body was turned into the bar, away from her companion. It looked to Ellie as if she’d learned how to flirt out of a book. Hell, maybe she had. Ellie smiled as she wondered how good her own technique was. She knew what rule number one was, anyway: find a dark corner.

            She tried to remember what she had looked like before. Of course, she was almost the same. 

            Almost.

            Ellie had dark brown hair that she kept long to hide her damaged cheek, and greyish green eyes with perhaps more lines round them than were normal for a twenty-seven year old. Laughter lines, they called them. What the hell had been that funny? When she looked in the mirror at her right profile, she sometimes had the hopeless little idea that she wasn’t bad looking. Until she turned face on, of course, when it looked as if part of her had melted. 

            Fiona broke into her thoughts. 

            ‘So, you’re determined.’

            ‘What?’

            ‘Baranpay. You’re determined to go.’

            Ellie looked up. Fiona had tied her long blonde hair up in a neat clasp, and not one single hair had dared to escape. The pale blue eyes were still outrageously sober, and despite herself, Ellie had to laugh.

            ‘Fee, why don’t you lighten up. Have a drink.’

            Fiona’s lips drew into a thin line. No mean task. Ellie considered Fiona the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Like a blonde Demi Moore, with an unfortunate side order of Julie Andrews. One night the two of them had gone out to a pub, and she had overheard two men whispering about them. They had called them Beauty and the beast, and Ellie had turned to them in a quiet fury.

            ‘How dare you say that about my friend!’

            She smiled to herself at the memory.

            ‘What are you grinning at? Honestly, Ellie. How many drinks have you had?’

            ‘Just the even dozen.’ Ellie took another sip just to annoy her. ‘Where’s Fred tonight? How is the old man anyway. Haven’t seen him for ages.’

            ‘He’s fine. Don’t change the subject.’

            Ellie shrugged, glancing round for Lara. She spotted her in a corner with her tongue down some guy’s throat. Nice. Ellie stole her drink.

            ‘And what about you, Fee. How are you? Any happy news yet?’

            Ellie saw the hurt appear in her friend’s eyes, and immediately regretted her words. 

She was about to apologise, but Fiona leaned forward, the hurt turned to anger.

            ‘Never mind me. Don’t think I don’t know why you’re leaving.’

            Ellie was surprised. ‘What?’

            ‘You can’t keep running away from things. You have to stand and face them.’

            ‘And is that what you’re doing?’

            ‘I told you. Never mind me.’

            Ellie felt the warm happy drunkenness wave goodbye. Fiona carried on talking, but she no longer heard her. The noise of the pub blurred around her like a mangled cassette tape. She was back once more in the shell of Ellie, the scarred survivor, and a question occurred to her: survival requires effort, but does effort equal survival? She wasn’t sure. She was too drunk to think it through. 

            ‘-not even listening!’ she heard suddenly. She looked up. Fiona’s eyes were furious, but there was something else there, as always. Ellie found a smile.

            ‘I’m going, Fee,’ she said. Her voice sounded as if it came from far away. ‘I’m even looking forward to it.’

            Fiona looked away. ‘It’s a tiny island a long way from anywhere. You’ll be lonely.’

            ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Actually it doesn’t sound so bad.’ She finished Lara’s drink and stood up. 

            ‘I think it’s time-‘ she said, and stopped. Time for what? She had no idea. The next tune started up on the juke box. It was the Pogues’ version of The Irish Rover. As she looked around the bar, she spotted Billy the landlord collecting glasses. She hurried over and grabbed his arms as he put the empties on the bar. 

            ‘On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six -‘ she sang, waltzing him round the room. Billy laughed, joining in. Before long everyone was singing the chorus, which were the only words they knew: in the hull of the Irish Rover!

            Ellie danced until all the alcohol made her dizzy, and she hurried to the toilet in a haze of nausea. Leaning over the cracked basin, she splashed water on her face. Someone had spilled perfume in the sink, and the reek of it made her feel even more sick.

            ‘Are you all right, Ellie?’

            She looked round. Hannah was sitting in a cubicle with the door open. Her face was streaked with tears. 

            ‘Han, what’s wrong?’ She said. 

            Hannah just shook her head. She never wore make up, and amidst all the tears she looked like a child. Ellie crouched and put her arm round her. Someone came into the toilet, and Ellie kicked the cubicle door closed. She stroked her friend’s hair until Hannah stopped sobbing. 

            ‘That’s better,’ she said. Hannah looked up, but her eyes were sad. 

            ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,’ Ellie said. ‘I understand.’ And how, she thought. 

            ‘You’re going away tomorrow.’

            Ellie nodded. Her knees were aching now from crouching low, and she knelt down, ignoring the rough and dirty tiles.

            ‘Can’t you take me with you?’

            Ellie searched her eyes, and then smiled. Eventually Hannah smiled too, and then they both laughed. 

            ‘Come on,’ Ellie said. 

            As Hannah washed her face, a woman came into the toilet, drunk and singing to herself. She looked at Ellie and her face twisted in disgust. Ellie felt the familiar sensation as her heart dropped. The woman realised what she had done and put her hand to her mouth.

            ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.

            Ellie nodded. As they left, she saw Hannah give the woman a filthy look, and that made her smile.

            Back at the bar, Fiona was waiting alone. It was gone closing time, and all the lights were on. Billy was shouting unintelligibly, but his meaning was clear. 

            ‘Where’s Laz?’

            Fiona shrugged. 

            Ellie looked around the pub, but couldn’t see her friend. Ah well, she thought, it was typical for  Lara. She’d see her next time. 

            ‘Fred’s here,’ Fiona said. ‘Do you guys want a lift?’

            Ellie shook her head. She thought it was typical that Fiona’s husband would wait in the car, not even coming in for one drink. He didn’t like her, but Ellie had no idea why. Maybe he was just embarrassed by her scarred face.

            ‘Well, Han,’ Ellie said, steeling herself. ‘I’ll see you in a few months.’

            Hannah looked as if she might cry again. Honestly, Ellie thought, reaching out to hug her.

            ‘You’ve got my number, and I’ll tell you my address when I get there.’

            ‘You take care,’ Hannah said. ‘And I hope you love it there. I really do.’

            Ellie grinned. 

            Fiona reached out and hugged her too. 

            ‘And be careful on that bike. You always go way too fast.’

            ‘Yes mother.’

            ‘And if you don’t like it, come back.’ 

            Ellie nodded, stepping back. Like that was going to happen.

            ‘I ha     te goodbyes,’ she said. ‘So just bugger off, will you?’