Even though they’d split up seven years ago, he and Shiv still had this weird competitive thing. She was an interesting one: quick and clever, always analysing situations to find the money-making angle. Her dark hair was cut in a chic elfin cap – daring, right? Other than that, she was fairly ordinary-looking, but no one noticed because blasts of confidence puffed from her at regular intervals, as if she were a battery-operated air freshener.
For a long time she’d worked for a mid-market fashion chain. When retail began to die, she pivoted to online, setting up a site selling cool children’s clothes. This was hugely successful, so much so that she was now consulting for the Irish fashion board. Next she’d started a business importing mobile saunas and that too was a winner.
According to Quin, she’d put the fear of God in his previous girlfriends. But while I thought she was really kind of mean, she didn’t scare me.
I sat at the table, scrolling emails, stress-eating edamame beans and stealing glances at Quin. Coming face to face with Luke had sent my past crashing into my present and my head was melted. I’d one foot in my old life and another in the now and, as a result, my set-up with Quin seemed slightly … unfamiliar.
‘Quin?’ I asked. ‘Can we talk? For a moment?’
‘Okay.’ With grim energy, he was whisking something in a saucepan.
‘Luke came to my house last night.’
‘What?’ The whisking stopped abruptly. ‘Is he still … I thought he’d gone back?’
‘Still here. He came to complain about Kate and Devin.’
‘Seriously? What’s it to him?’ Then, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes.’ Well, I would be.
‘… Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’
‘Last night, I was … shocked, I suppose is the word. Then today, work, you know? Quin, it was nothing, though. He rang to apologize this morning.’
‘Oh. Okay …’
Finley wandered in. ‘Any food?’ He opened and closed cupboards until he found a bag of Doritos and began horsing into them.
‘You’d better eat your dinner.’ Quin’s threat sounded half-hearted.
‘Course I’ll eat my dinner.’ Finley grinned through a mouthful of half-crunched crisps and swung from the room.
He was a cheerful kid. Other than eating non-stop and needing new shoes on an almost weekly basis there was very little drama.
Liberty was a trickier proposition. In the time I’d known her, she’d gone from age thirteen to fifteen, two of the toughest years in any woman’s life.
In the beginning, I was introduced as Quin’s ‘friend’。 I stayed over only when they were at Shiv’s. But Liberty had cornered me. ‘I’m not stupid. You’re Dad’s girlfriend. And you’re not my mum.’
Trying to sound calm, I had agreed. ‘You already have a mum. You don’t need another one.’
I was pathetic, trying to be all Cool Adult. In my happiest imaginings Liberty and I would have a Movie of the Week relationship where I whispered ways to conceal the crop of angry-looking spots along her jawline or told her not to worry that her torso had had a growth spurt so that her legs looked disproportionately short because it would all come good in the end.
But it hadn’t exactly worked out that way. Although I steered well clear of any disciplinary matters, every couple of weeks there was a meltdown where she flung things, yelling that she hated Quin, she hated me, she hated Shiv, she hated Garrett and that she’d never asked to be born.
I didn’t take it personally. My earlier life had been Tantrum Central: Liberty was a rank amateur compared to Claire and Helen. Being honest, I’d gone the full poltergeist once or twice myself.
‘So what did he expect you to do about Kate and the nephew?’ Quin asked.
‘I don’t really know. Nothing, maybe.’
The doorbell rang and Quin looked harried. ‘That’ll be Shiv. Can we talk about this later?’
‘There’s really nothing to talk about, but sure.’
Shiv and her partner Garrett had arrived with two bottles of alcohol-free wine. Of all the things I loved about Quin, Shiv and her boyfriend, Garrett, were bottom of the list. Brash and flashy, they got excited by rich people and they thought cocaine was glamorous.
Garrett, curly-haired, big and loud, was ‘in property’。 He wasn’t my favourite person, and I wasn’t his, but we all kissed hello, because we were middle-class.
Quin took a break from his steamy clattering to assess the alcohol-free wine. ‘And we’re doing this … why?’