But how would she know? She was too ashamed to tell anyone. Her mum would go crazy with worry; Garr would probably tell her to leave Liam. As for Wanda, every time she saw Nell and Liam, she yelled, ‘Goals!’ The only creature she could talk to was Molly Ringwald.
The bottom line was that she loved Liam less than she used to. Or maybe she’d never loved the real Liam.
None of this was the way that love was depicted in movies. In real life when your person disappoints you, you have to readjust yourself – and not them – so you can keep loving them.
Maybe – and this was another scary thought – Liam was having to do that too.
She moved through the busy function room. It was her first time at a public meeting about asylum-seekers, and it was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who cared. She recognized a politician from one of the smaller parties, maybe the Social Democrats. And a woman who might be from the Refugee Council of Ireland. Where was Perla? Perhaps she hadn’t arrived yet.
As she made her way to the top of the room, her attention was caught by a striking-looking man, half a head taller than everyone else – Was that … Ferdia?
Jessie must be here. Good on her.
Someone called her name. Barty, who was all smiles.
‘Barty. Hey.’ They shared an awkward hug.
She and Ferdia nodded at each other and Nell looked around. ‘Where’s Jessie?’
‘Dunno.’ Ferdia shrugged. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Perla’s doing a talk for this. So, you know, supporting her. You?’
‘Same.’ He coloured slightly. ‘Supporting Perla.’ Then he blurted, ‘You don’t mind? She’s your friend, really.’
‘We’re not at school. I mean, more than one person can be friends with her.’ Nell had intended to sound jokey but it came out sounding snide.
‘Here’s the woman herself,’ Barty said.
Here, indeed, was Perla, smiling prettily, her hair bouncing over her bare shoulders, wearing a flax-coloured sundress that Nell had previously seen on Saoirse.
‘You look nice,’ Barty said.
‘Recognize my dress?’ She turned her sparkling eyes on Ferdia. ‘It was your sister’s. Jessie insisted I took it.’
Knowing Jessie, Nell thought, she’d probably tried to give Perla every stitch the Caseys possessed.
‘I’m sorry.’ Ferdia sounded mortified.
‘No! I am grateful. You are all very kind to come.’
‘Are you nervous?’ Nell asked.
‘I feel excited.’
Nell had to admit that she was unrecognizable as the woman she’d met that cold, miserable night at the start of the year.
‘Perla?’ A young man wearing a lanyard had come to take her to the stage. ‘We’re about to start.’
‘Good luck,’ they called after her.
‘You’ll be great!’ Barty yelled. ‘Break a leg!’
‘Bart,’ Ferdia hissed. ‘Could you just not?’
‘Calm your keks,’ Barty said. ‘Nell, sit with us.’ Furtively, he widened his eyes at Ferdia and mouthed, Looper.
Positioned between Barty and Ferdia, she was suddenly afraid she was going to be felled by an attack of inappropriate, uncontrollable laughter.
‘How’s things?’ Barty asked. ‘Haven’t seen you since the weekend from Hell in Mayo.’
He was gas, she decided. Zero sensitivity but hilarious. ‘That was a bad one,’ Nell admitted.
‘And now he brings me to this! Sometimes I wonder if he hates me!’
Her smile dimmed. This thing tonight was meaningful. It wasn’t right to slate it.
‘How’s Sammie getting on?’ she asked Ferdia.
‘They’re being mature,’ Barty said. ‘Aren’t you, Ferd? They’ll always “think fondly” of each other.’
‘It’s true.’ Ferdia surprised her with a smile. ‘She said to say hey. So how’s your summer going?’ That was a sore point. ‘Did you get that job?’ He’d clearly just remembered. ‘Down in Mayo, weren’t you doing some project?’
‘Yeah. Yep, I was.’ She cleared her throat and made herself speak cheerily. ‘I didn’t get it.’
Ship of Fools had been gentle but, weeks later, it still hurt. ‘You overstretched yourself,’ Prentiss had said, almost sadly. ‘It’s a shame, Nell. We wish you the best for the future.’
There was a lame attempt to argue her case, but he was right: she’d tried to do something she wasn’t experienced enough to pull off and the person responsible for that, she felt, was Liam. He was the one who’d urged her to take things in a new direction while her own instinct had told her to stick to what she was good at.
In her heart she knew the only person to blame was herself, but the sting of losing the gig was rolled up with her general disillusionment.