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You’re no better than him.
“So, tell me about this girlfriend of yours.”
“Hmm?”
“Your girlfriend.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Why?”
“Would you prefer if we talked about how you got those bruises?” came her clipped response. “Because we can go there if you prefer?”
“Her name’s Aoife.” Draining the contents of my glass, I rinsed it out in the sink before placing the glass on the draining board and returning to my perch of hovering awkwardly near what I presumed was the back door. “I, ah, work for her father.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “He, ah, runs a small mechanic’s garage in town.”
“Which garage?”
“The Free-Wheeler one at the end of Plunkett’s Road, across the street from Market Place.”
“Is that how you met?”
“No, we’re in the same class at school.”
“High school sweethearts.” She smiled knowingly. “Oh, to be young again.”
“You could say that.”
“Have you been together long?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, feeling completely off-balance around this woman. “We have.”
“You don’t give much away, do you, Joey, love?”
“Why would I?” I replied. “I don’t know you.”
She stared at me for a long moment before shaking her head and offering me another warm smile. “You know, love, I’m sure I’ve heard about that garage. I’ll bring the car down the next time it needs a service.”
“Really?” My brow furrowed and the pain in my head slowly dulled. “You don’t have to.”
“I’d like to.” She smiled again. “How long have you worked there?”
“Since I was twelve or thirteen.” Another shrug. “Been on the books since third year.”
“That young?”
“Needed the money.”
“And you like it?” she pressed, still busying herself with prepping food and making tea. “Mechanics? That’s something you might be interested in pursuing after you’re done with school?”
Jesus, what was with this woman and all the questions? I hadn’t endured this level of interrogation since my last trip in the back of the paddy wagon. Or maybe since the last time I’d come under fire from Molloy.
Come to think about it, this little woman gave off a similar air of confidence to the one that wafted from my girlfriend in waves. It was confusing and I didn’t know if I liked it.
“Money’s decent.”
“Well, I think you are a credit to yourself, Joey Lynch.” Somehow, I earned myself another megawatt smile from Mister Rugby’s mother. “Working all those hours after school. And in your leaving-cert year. You should be so proud of yourself.”
