Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,76

who was snogging him less than half an hour ago, but I need to know. It’s another puzzle piece in the mystery that is Clooney Breen.

His face hardens. ‘That’s none of your business, Phoebe.’

I shake my head. Shutting me out again. I’m so sick of him telling me his life is none of my business, but then expecting me to get involved with him, even if he is just offering sex.

‘I thought you trusted me? Or is that only when you feel like it?’

He ignores me so I open the car door. ‘See, this right here.’ I point between us both. ‘Is why there can never be anything between us. Because I’m the only one willing to put myself on the line.’ I slam the door behind me.

‘You go, girl,’ Helen says. If she could click I’m guessing she would.

After a long and rather exhausting talk with Helen’s mum I finally convinced her that I knew what I was talking about. She’s taken the dress out of the bag and has promised to get it made into a cushion for her grand-daughter.

‘Thank you so much,’ ghost girl says as we walk out.

I expect Clooney’s car to have gone, but the bastard has stayed. I don’t know if I’m happy or sad about it.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Listen, I was friends with Orla. I know why they broke up, if you want to know?’

Oh my god. Could it really be that easy? No, I shake my head. I don’t want to know. It wouldn’t be right finding out like this.

‘I’m good, thanks.’

‘It’s such a shame. You guys seem good together.’

I look at him through the car window, brooding sexily.

‘Yeah, well unfortunately that doesn’t guarantee that it can work between two people and all the signs are telling me that it won’t.’

‘Still… don’t give up on him. He’s just his own worst enemy.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ I listen out for a response. ‘Helen?’

Oh, of course. Now she’s decided to cross over.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Monday 26th October

We drove home in awkward silence and haven’t really talked since. Its beyond awkward, but it just confirms to me that he’s a man child. He should have apologised. Even if he didn’t want to tell me the story he could have apologised. Yet instead he ruined a perfect day.

It’s harder to avoid him with it being so painfully quiet. We seem to have even less customers now that article has exposed us as underhand hacks. Just the few people from the looney bin and few old men that live close by.

I see the postman pull up and go to collect the post. Any excuse to get out from that awful tension. In amongst the normal bills is a leaflet.

BALLYKIELTY DEVELOPMENT PLANS

Find out more at the

COUNCIL MEETING

Sunday 8th November – 7.30 pm

The Scout Hut

Verity Development’s plan could lead to huge parts of our town being bought up to build a supermarket, risking many local businesses and lively hoods.

If you don’t agree with the proposed development options join us and object.

Wow, a huge supermarket. Things like that could really ruin a small town.

‘Have you seen this?’ I ask Ella as she’s wiping down the bar.

‘What?’ she asks.

‘They’re asking people to attend a town meeting this Sunday. They want to stop a big developer buying up the town and turning it into a supermarket.’

Clooney walks into the bar and takes the leaflet from the side.

‘Jesus, it’s getting worse then,’ he says with a shake of his head.

It’s his only direct speech towards me in days.

‘Has it been going on for long?’ I ask, quick to take my chance to bury the hatchet and engage in friendly conversation.

‘Yep,’ he nods, ‘that Sean you met, he had his home forced from him.’

‘Forced from him?’ I repeat like a parrot. ‘How can they even do that?’

He leans over the bar and nods. ‘They start playing nicely with a reasonable offer. Try and throw a bit more money at first, then they start making things difficult for you. Court cases, threatening phone calls, being followed; he had it all.’

‘Oh my god! How can that be legal?’

He scoffs. ‘It’s not, but they have so much money and clout, they can get away with it.’

Poor Sean. Hang on a minute. A crazy idea whirls around my head. I have to know the answer immediately.

‘You,’ I point at Clooney, ‘follow me.’ I grab his arm, giving him no choice, as I drag him through the kitchen and into the back room, ignoring Ella’s confused stares.

‘What the hell’s up with