know why I’m laughing,’ Izzy complained. ‘What’s funny about that?’
‘It was an ad. You don’t remember? For Coke, I think. You’re probably too young.’
‘Is Johnny a big hit with the girls?’ Izzy asked.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Don’t be at him, Izzy,’ Keeva chided.
‘Ah, Keeev-eeeee!’
‘She’s a brat,’ Keeva said to Jessie. ‘She flirts with every man she meets. But she’s only leading them on.’
‘Having some fun. That’s all I’m doing. Doesn’t do any harm. Hey! Should we get biccies?’ A shape that was probably Izzy swung herself out of bed.
Keeva made a strangled noise. ‘Careful, you larky article. You kicked me in the face!’
Squeaking noises came from Izzy, as she rocked with hilarity.
Jessie felt tears of laughter trickle into her pillow. She hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in, like, ever.
It had been a turning point in Jessie’s life.
Less than two weeks later, Rory stood at Jessie’s desk. ‘Izzy just rang,’ he said. ‘She says you’re to come to Errislannan on Saturday night.’
‘Oh!’ A gorgeous warmth lit up her chest. ‘Will Keeva be there? Will you be there?’
‘That’s the idea. And Johnny.’
‘… Well, great!’
As far back as then, the three Kinsella kids had already as good as moved out of home: Rory had his flat in Dublin; Keeva stayed with her fiancé Christy in nearby Celbridge five nights out of seven; and Izzy was already looking for a place in the city. But at least once a month, especially if they’d had a hard week, they rang around each other and descended on Ellen – Johnny and Jessie usually in tow – looking for some mothering.
After they’d been fed, Jessie and Johnny would join in the tussling for the best spot on the couch. They’d watch films, maybe go to the local for a quick drink, and spend the following day visiting the pups or supporting Celbridge in the GAA. On those weekends, Izzy and Keeva always shared a bedroom with Jessie, lying awake until four in the morning, talking and laughing. Jessie was finally living out her teenage fantasies, of having close friends, confidantes to whom she could tell anything.
As time passed, she began meeting up with Izzy and Keeva in Dublin, without Rory or Johnny.
Izzy rang one Thursday afternoon. ‘Shops? After work? I’m looking for boots and I need you to ride shotgun.’
Humbly, Jessie said, ‘I’m not great with fashion.’
‘But you’ll give it to me straight. If I want to buy high-heeled boots that make my legs look like pipe-cleaners, you’ll tell me. C’mon, Jessie.’
Jessie felt high with happiness and, in order not to disappoint, did exactly what Izzy had asked, and said, ‘Pipe-cleaners’, when Izzy tried on a pair of pointy-toed boots. Izzy was slightly knock-kneed, as if her limbs were too long for her to manage. ‘But,’ Jessie added, ‘there’s nothing wrong with pipe-cleaners. I’d love long, skinny pipe-cleaner legs.’
‘Nah.’ Izzy stared at herself critically. ‘No good. I look like a spider.’
She actually did, with her shaggy dark hair and long, thin limbs. But such a lovable, fun spider.
‘C’mon so. Let’s go for a drink. And next time, we’re going shopping for you. Let me and Keeva know when you’ve been paid.’
‘Oh! Okay. How about Saturday?’
‘Saturday it is.’
They met at 10 a.m., and Izzy told Jessie, ‘We’ve decided you’re not making the most of yourself.’
‘She decided,’ Keeva corrected. ‘I think you look fine.’
‘You’re just a bit …’ Izzy said. ‘Too many suits? Ya know? You need new clothes. Jeans.’
‘I have jeans.’
‘But they’re too … What’s the word? Neat? Polite. Stop ironing them, Jessie. You’d look great in a wrecked pair.’
‘Would I?’ She was breathless with a new, daring vision of herself.
‘Yes!’
Jessie looked to Keeva. Keeva was the voice of reason. ‘Would I?’
‘You would. Also, can you change your hair? Would it kill you to get highlights?’
‘No! No, it wouldn’t.’ Jessie was so eager to oblige. ‘Where should I go?’
Over time Jessie began to make more girlfriends – her flatmates, some people from work. She felt she’d finally become ‘real’, normal, just like other people. Izzy and Keeva had seen her potential and given her the confidence to be herself.
They became even closer when she began going out with Rory.
‘About fecking time,’ Izzy said. ‘We were afraid Johnny would get there first. Not that Johnny isn’t lovely, of course.’ She wiggled her fingers across the crowded pub at him. With a dazzling smile, she mouthed, ‘Wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating Tayto, darlin’!’
Keeva was the best person in the world: she was solid, reliable and good. But Izzy was the