The Girl Who Lied. Sue Fortin
and caught the can that Joe chucked his way. ‘I’m going to sit outside for five minutes. You coming?’
Joe followed him out. Kerry plonked himself down on the back seat from an old car, which had long since been separated from the vehicle and abandoned in the far corner of the yard. Joe grabbed a wooden crate to perch on. Skip, Kerry’s little terrier dog, came trotting out of the workshop and jumped up onto the seat beside his owner.
As Kerry leaned back, grateful for the shade of the workshop, he glanced over at the service road, which ran along the back of Seahorse Café. His attention was caught by the sight of the willowy figure of Erin bringing out a bag of rubbish and lifting the big industrial lid of the wheelie bin to sling in the bag. Her chestnut hair, although tied back in a ponytail, seemed to shimmer down her back in the sunlight.
‘Aha! Caught you!’ At Joe’s jibe, Kerry snapped his head back to look at his cousin. Joe nodded in the direction of the café. ‘Admiring the scenery, were you?’
‘What’s that?’ said Max, coming out of the workshop and wandering over to them.
‘Kerry here, ogling the new waitress at the café. I think he’s got the hots for her.’
Very rarely did Kerry ever feel like punching his cousin. Today, however, was one of those occasions. Annoyed that he had, indeed, been caught looking at Erin, Kerry didn’t want to let on, otherwise he’d never hear the last of it. Instead, he made a great effort to keep his voice nonchalant as he replied. ‘What? Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’
Joe laughed and mimicked Kerry. ‘Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’ He turned to his dad. ‘Like he doesn’t know what her name is after hanging around the café for half an hour this morning, getting all hot and steamy in the kitchen.’
Max grinned at Kerry and raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so? You been rattling her pots and pans?’ Father and son laughed.
Standing up and squashing his cigarette under his foot, Kerry gave Joe a shove on the shoulder, sending him sprawling backwards off the upturned wooden crate. ‘That mouth of yours will get you in trouble one day.’
This seemed to fuel Joe’s laughter even more. He picked himself up and, righting his makeshift seat, settled himself back on it. ‘Touch a nerve, did I?’
Later Kerry was relieved to hear Joe down tools and announce he was finished for the day. Max had already gone and Kerry was left to lock up. He needed to get the bike he was working on ready for the customer to pick up in the morning.
Kerry wheeled the bike out into the rear yard and started the engine. Leaning over it, he revved the throttle several times, listening carefully to make sure the engine was firing properly. Then he left it to tick over for a few minutes, again listening for any stuttering in the rhythm of the rumble. At tick-over it chugged at a nice steady pace; no hesitation, no lumpiness.
After a few minutes he was satisfied everything was okay and, cutting the engine, took the bike back inside.
As he locked up the workshop doors, he glanced over to the café and suddenly fancied a coffee. Of course, he could simply go up to his flat and make a cup of instant, but that wasn’t the same as a freshly made Americano. What the heck? It was only a coffee.
Kerry gave his hands a quick look and determined them presentable enough, having managed to get most of the grease off and dirt out from under his nails.
‘Come on, Skip,’ he called to the little terrier. ‘Let’s get a coffee.’ He headed round to the front of the café. He had just taken hold of the handle when the door swung open and out bustled a very tired-looking Erin. She gave a little yelp of surprise.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Kerry, feeling a broad smile spread across his face. A few tendrils of hair had escaped from Erin’s ponytail and had curled slightly.
‘That’s all right,’ she replied, touching her hair, as if checking it was in place. ‘I was just about to close up. Did you want something? Please say no.’ She clasped her hands together as if in prayer.
‘In that case then, no?’ replied Kerry.
‘Is the right answer,’ Erin laughed, then added, ‘For God’s sake don’t tell my dad I’m turning away customers. He’ll have a fit.’ She moved round him and began stacking the outside seating.
‘Here, I’ll do that,’ said Kerry, taking hold of the chair Erin now had in her hands.
‘Tell you what, I’ll do the chairs and you do the tables.’ Erin gave the chair a little tug and then a much stronger one as Kerry realised he was still holding onto it. She raised her eyebrows slightly, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards.
Kerry shook himself mentally and, letting go of the chair, turned to focus on the bistro table instead.
‘So, how was your first day?’ he asked, carrying a table in behind Erin.
‘Not so bad in the end. It’s been really quiet this afternoon. Not sure if it’s always like this, but it was hardly worth being open.’ They put the furniture to one side.
‘It will probably pick up more in the summer, though,’ said Kerry, holding the door open so they could go back out and collect some more tables and chairs.
‘I suppose so. If it’s like this tomorrow, I might close early.’
‘When do you think you’ll go back to London?’ Kerry hoped he sounded only mildly interested.
‘I need to see how things go with my dad first,’ she said. ‘There’s still no change in his condition. The doctors were having a consultation amongst themselves today to decide the best way forward.’
‘Is that good or bad?’ asked Kerry, although he acknowledged it didn’t sound good.
She shrugged and looked as if she was struggling to find the right words for a moment. He watched her swallow hard and then look up at him. ‘I really couldn’t say.’
Kerry placed another table inside the café. He felt he should comfort her with a hug or soothing words, but he got the distinct impression Erin didn’t want a fuss made. He decided best to leave it. As he turned to get the last of the tables, he saw a familiar figure heading towards the café, their eyes fixed firmly on the back of Erin as she stacked the last few chairs
She wasn’t hard to track down. She was going to be one of three places. At the hospital. At her sister’s or here, at the café. It wasn’t like she had loads of friends to catch up with.
Roisin neared the café, her thoughts solely on Erin. It wouldn’t be so bad, but after what happened, Erin had no right to disappear and start a new life, washing her hands of her old one, just because it didn’t work out the way she wanted it. Got herself a rich boyfriend in London and thought she was the bee’s knees. Sure, she had barely been back here. What sort of daughter was she?
But, hey, look at her now, waiting on tables. Serves her right. Roisin was so looking forward to wiping that smug look off her face and making Erin admit to what she really did.
‘How the mighty fall.’
Kerry looked from her to Erin and back again. His eyes were wary. He clearly wasn’t sure how things stood between the two of them.
Erin put the chair down and turned to face Roisin. ‘Hello, Roisin. I’m sorry but the café’s closed now.’
Sure, she wasn’t sorry at all. Erin knew Roisin wasn’t here for a cosy catch-up over a one-shot-skinny-latte, or whatever it was she drank. Probably some detox green-leaf crap, knowing her.
‘I’m not here for a coffee,’ said Roisin. ‘I didn’t get a chance to speak to you before, not with me mam there.’
‘I’m a bit busy right now,’ said Erin, glancing back at Kerry.
‘You got yourself a new job?’ Roisin asked, looking at Kerry.
‘Just