have no idea, that’s why I called this emergency meeting.’
‘No, it’s not, you told me you wanted to go shopping,’ Sharon said.
‘Oh, really?’ Denise looked at Sharon and raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you were both coming to visit me on my lunch break.’
‘You are both correct,’ Holly asserted. ‘I am shopping for ideas and I need you both.’
‘OK, OK!’ Sharon exclaimed excitedly. ‘I think I’ve got an idea. What was that song we sang for the whole two weeks in Spain and we couldn’t get it out of our heads? It used to bug the hell out of us?’
Holly shrugged her shoulders. If it bugged the hell out of them it was hardly a very good choice.
‘I don’t know, I wasn’t invited on that holiday,’ muttered Denise.
‘Oh, you know the one, Holly!’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Oh, you have to!’
‘Sharon, I don’t think she can remember,’ Denise said frustratedly to Sharon.
‘Oh, what was it?’ Sharon put her face in her hands, irritated. Holly shrugged her shoulders at Denise again. ‘OK, I’ve got it!!’ she announced happily, and began to sing loudly in the café. ‘“Sun, sea, sex, sand, come on boy, give me your hand!”.’
Holly’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the surrounding tables turned to stare. She turned to Denise for support in silencing Sharon.
‘“Ooh ooh ooh so sexy, so sexy!”’ Denise joined in with Sharon. Some people stared with amusement but most with loathing while Denise and Sharon warbled their way through the tacky European dance song that was a hit a few summers previously. Just as they were about to sing the chorus for the fourth time (neither of them could remember the verses) Holly silenced them.
‘Girls, I can’t sing that song! Besides, the verses are rapped by a guy!’
‘Well, at least you wouldn’t have to sing too much,’ chuckled Denise.
‘No way! I am not rapping at a karaoke competition!’
‘OK, well, what CD are you listening to at the moment?’ Denise got serious again.
‘Westlife?’ She looked at them hopefully.
‘Then sing a Westlife song,’ Sharon encouraged. ‘That way, at least you’ll know all the words.’
Sharon and Denise began to laugh uncontrollably. ‘You might not get the tune right,’ Sharon forced out between hacking laughs.
‘But at least you’ll know the words!’ Denise managed to finish for her before the two of them doubled over at the table.
First Holly was angry but looking at both of them crouched over holding their stomachs in hysterics, she had to chuckle. They were right, Holly was completely tone deaf and hadn’t a note in her head. Finding a song she could actually sing was going to prove impossible.
Finally, after the girls had settled down again, Denise looked at her watch and moaned about having to get back to work. They left Bewley’s, much to the other customers’ delight. ‘The miserable sods will probably throw a party now,’ Sharon had mumbled, passing their tables.
The three girls linked arms and walked down Grafton Street, heading towards the clothes store where Denise was manager. The day was sunny with just a light chill in the air; Grafton Street was busy as usual with people running around on their lunch breaks while shoppers slowly meandered up the street taking full advantage of the lack of rain. At every stretch of the road there was a busker fighting for attention from the crowds, and Denise and Sharon embarrassingly did a quick Irish dance as they passed a man playing the fiddle. He winked at them and they threw some money into his tweed cap on the ground.
‘Right, you ladies of leisure, I’d better head back to work,’ Denise said, pushing the door to her shop open. As soon as her staff saw her they scarpered from gossiping at the counter and immediately began to tidy the clothes rails. Holly and Sharon tried not to laugh. They said their goodbyes and both headed up to Stephen’s Green to collect their cars.
‘“Sun, sea, sex, sand,”’ Holly quietly sang to herself. ‘Oh shit, Sharon, you’ve got that stupid song in my head now,’ she complained.
‘You see, there you go with that “shit Sharon” thing again. So negative, Holly.’ Sharon began humming the song.
‘Oh, shut up!’ Holly laughed, hitting her on the arm.
Chapter Thirteen
It was four o’clock by the time Holly eventually got out of town and started heading home to Swords. Evil Sharon had convinced Holly to go shopping after all, which resulted in her splashing out on a ridiculous top she was far too old to wear. She really needed to watch her spending from now on. Her funds were running low and without regular income she could sense tense times ahead. She needed to start thinking about getting a job, but she was finding it hard enough to get out of bed in the morning as it was – another depressing nine-to-five job wasn’t going to help matters. But it would pay the bills. Holly sighed loudly. All these things she had to handle by herself. She spent too much time on her own thinking about them. She needed people around her, like today with Denise and Sharon, as they always took her mind off things.
She phoned her mum and checked if it was all right for her to call round.
‘Of course you can, love, you’re always welcome.’ Then Elizabeth lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Just as long as you know that Richard is here.’ Christ! What was with all the little visits all of a sudden?
Holly contemplated heading straight home when she heard that, but convinced herself she was being silly. He was her brother and, as annoying as he was, she couldn’t go on avoiding him forever.
She arrived to an extremely loud and crowded house, and it felt like old times again, hearing screams and shouts in every room. Her mum was setting an extra place at the table just as Holly walked in.
‘Oh, Mum, you should have told me you were having dinner,’ Holly said, giving her a hug and a kiss.
‘Why, have you eaten already?’
‘No, actually I’m starving but I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all, dear. It just means that poor Declan will have to go without food for the day, that’s all,’ she said, teasing her son, who was taking his seat. He made a face at her.
The atmosphere was so much more relaxed this time around – or maybe it had just been Holly who was uptight last time they met up.
‘So, Mr Hard Worker, why aren’t you in college today?’ she said sarcastically.
‘I’ve been in college all morning,’ Declan replied, making a face. ‘And I’m going back in at eight o’clock, actually.’
‘That’s very late,’ said his father, pouring gravy all over his plate. Frank always ended up with more gravy than food.
‘Yeah, but it was the only time I could get the editing suite.’
‘Is there only one editing suite, Declan?’ piped up Richard.
‘Yeah.’ Ever the conversationalist.
‘And how many students are there?’
‘It’s only a small class so there are twelve of us.’
‘Don’t they have the funds for any more?’
‘For what, students?’ Declan teased.
‘No, for another editing suite.’
‘No, it’s only a small