I Confess

Jessie beamed. ‘Yes!’

She looked out at the crowd, and caught Sister Consolata running a chilling gaze up and down her body. She felt a spike of fear. Her parents loved her clothes, and loved her dancing, and so did all her friends. Instinctively, she searched the crowd for comfort, and found it in the smile of her best friend, Helen. Her next best friend, Laura, was beside her, with two thumbs up. Her other friends, Edie and Clare, were standing at the front, giving her matching ladylike waves. Murph was doing moves like a boxer. She tried not to laugh. She walked over to one of the speakers, and put the tape recorder on top.

‘All business – look at her!’ said Colm, and the crowd laughed.

Jessie gave him a nod.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘she’s got it all under control. In your own time.’

He jumped off the front of the stage, and jogged back to his seat.

Jessie hit Play on the tape recorder. She took to the centre of the stage. Then she knelt, one knee on the floor, one knee up, her head curled to her chest. The music started. And, at eleven years old, Jessie, with the innocence and enthusiasm of a girl whose parents were happy when they watched her dance, moved flawlessly through her own carefully choreographed routine to the song, Maneater.

She finished, arms in the air, joyful, expectant. She was met with silence. She was used to her parents’ instant applause. Some sound. Any sound. But the crowd had fallen under the spell of Sister Consolata, whose moods could ripple out like a black-ink gauze, floating slowly down, and settling, wrapping around people, bridling them.

Jessie eventually lowered her arms, and a few scattered claps broke out. Her confused eyes finally found Sister Consolata, who was rising from her seat and heading towards her. With a stiff arm and pointed finger, she directed Jessie to exit the stage. She waited for her at the bottom of the steps, then stooped to meet her at eye level.

‘That was a disgrace!’ she said. ‘An absolute disgrace.’

She stared Jessie down until she trembled.

That night, Jessie sat on her bed wearing just the loose pink cotton top of her summer pyjamas and a pair of underpants. Her diary was open, the tiny lock and key on the turned-down sheet beside her. She wrote the date at the top of the page, along with REGATTA!!!! She paused with the nib of the pen over the first line. After a while, she wrote:

Mammy is at a pilgrimidge in Knock. But she told Daddy I could open my parcel from Auntie Mona in Boston!!! I was so excited!!! It’s not even my birthday until Thursday!!! The reason was because it had an outfit for the talent contest in it!!!! It was a shiny leotard and leggings from a proper dance shop. I love it so much! (she also got me a packet of 3 underpantses which is so embarrising). The Talent Contest was at three o’clock in the Square. It was rosting. Patrick Lynch sang Green Fields of France. And I finally got to do my dance! Maneater! Watch out boy she’ll cheer you up! Everyone loved it!

I’m so tired, but tell you the rest tomorrow. Zzzzz.

She never wrote in the diary again. She never saw it again. The guards took it. They took her blankets too. They took her sheets, and her pyjama top, her pillow and her teddies, her hairband, and her book. They took her father too for a while.

6 (#ulink_fd830ede-7f4a-5097-a827-7b86a874de94)

Edie stood in the shadows of the balcony overlooking the hall. She was wearing a dark green silk dress with three-quarter-length sleeves that had a small gold button at the cuff. She wore matching dark-green patent heels, and had a dark green bracelet with fine gold edging on her right wrist. Her hair was down, to her shoulders, and tousled, her make-up subtle, eyes with a hint of gold shadow and a smoky edge.

‘Johnny’s voice drifted up from below. ‘I don’t know where Edie is.’

‘Agonizing over the details,’ Clare said.

‘Well, I hope so,’ said Murph. ‘I did my research, and I’m expecting a “soothing five-star experience”.’

Johnny laughed. ‘That was Condé Nast Traveller.’

‘Murph reading Condé Nast Traveller,’ said Clare.

‘What do you think I read?’ said Murph. ‘The Irish Field? Which is an excellent publication, but not the point.’

‘The place is amazing, lads,’ said Laura. ‘It’s like … I don’t know how ye did it.’

‘It’s magnificent,’ said Clare. ‘Helen – you must be used to it at this stage.’

‘No,’ said Helen. ‘Still impresses me every time. But we’re usually over at the house.’

‘Probably a shithole too, is it?’ said Murph.

They all laughed.

‘Speaking of shit,’ said Laura, ‘what was with the reviews on Trip Advisor?’

Edie closed her eyes.

‘Laura!’ said Clare.

‘What? I was disgusted,’ said Laura. ‘About the afternoon tea and the cream being off, and the whole thing being a rip-off? I’m saying it because I know there’s no way that’s true.’

‘It wasn’t,’ said Johnny. ‘But that’s a conversation for another time.’

Edie took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked to the top of the stairs. ‘Hello!’ she said, beaming. They all cheered.

‘Here she is now,’ said Murph. ‘Lady of the Manor.’

Edie laughed. ‘You’re all so welcome! I’m sorry I wasn’t here. What an appalling hostess! I had a few things to take care of.’ She looked at Helen. ‘Happy Birthday! You look stunning.’

‘It’s the blow-dry,’ said Helen, waving a hand at it. She had thick, shiny short brown hair that fell across one side of her face. It was an old-fashioned cut but it was perfect on her. She never wore much eye make-up and always wore a pair of glasses to complement whatever outfit she had on. Tonight, they were black. She was wearing a red wrap top and a long black taffeta skirt, and red shoes with a square gold buckle with pearls on the toes.

‘It’s not the blow-dry,’ said Edie. ‘It’s everything.’

‘And she’s got the tits out,’ said Murph. ‘Looking amazing.’

Clare hugged Edie. ‘I’m blown away.’

‘I can’t believe this is your first time here!’ said Edie.

‘Ours too,’ said Laura, pointing at herself and Murph.

‘Yeah, you ignorant bastards,’ said Murph.

‘We didn’t want to lower the tone,’ said Johnny.

‘Says your man,’ said Murph, tilting his head toward him. Then he looked at himself in the long mirror, and ran his hand down the sleeve of his navy jacket. ‘I think I scrub up very well.’

‘You do,’ said Edie, opening her arms wide. Murph gave her a huge hug, and lifted her off the ground. ‘I miss my Murph hugs,’ she said.

‘So, I heard Father Lynch is coming,’ said Murph when he put her down.

‘Please have some new jokes for tonight,’ said Laura.

‘He’ll always be Father Lynch to me,’ said Murph.

‘Yes – he’s coming,’ said Edie. ‘Helen bumped into him in Cork and said “Come on down”.’