cool dudey about Niall BO Cronin and she had told him so in no uncertain terms. He had been most upset when she called him a cretin and suggested he treat himself to a bath.
She hadn’t told Conor about Niall’s pass. He’d go mad and probably sock him on the jaw. He was always very possessive of her. Maybe she just might let it slip and see what
happened. Somehow the idea of men fighting over her was rather appealing.
Paula walked briskly through the village, her long blond hair blowing behind her in the warm breeze. She was really looking forward to today and what a beautiful day it was. It was a scorcher,
just the way she liked them. If there was one thing Paula loved it was lying in the sun. A tan always looked really well on her and accentuated the deep blue of her eyes and highlighted the blond
of her hair. Today, she was going to look very well as she already had a light bronzed glow. Today she was going to be a bridesmaid at her sister Louise’s wedding. Today was her last day in
her summer job. Today was the Day of Days and tomorrow . . . she felt like doing a little twirl of happiness. Tomorrow she would be in Dublin with Helen for the last few days in July and the whole
month of August. What joy! What bliss! Helen’s house was pure luxury and Paula had a gorgeous room all to herself. A delightful room where the curtains matched the bedspread, there was even a
matching lampshade and waste basket.
Paula loved that room. She loved it much more than her grotty old bedroom at home. God, what a mess that was! Sharing with two other sisters was such a drag. Sleeping with Rebecca was an even
bigger drag. They were always fighting. Rebecca was the noisiest person to sleep with, she was always cucking. Paula would lie in bed fuming while her sister gave a little snore and then a cuck,
and then a snore and then a cuck. It was enough to drive anyone batty. When she couldn’t take it any longer she would give her an elbow in the ribs and tell her to keep her mouth shut and
stop snoring. Then Rebecca would get mad and curse at her and there’d be a row. At least now that Louise was going they’d have a bed each. That was one of the joys of going to
Helen’s for her holidays. Not only had she a bed to herself, she had a
room
to herself with an entire wardrobe for her clothes and a dressing-table full of fabulous creams and
perfumes and talcs and exquisite nail varnishes. Going to heaven was surely only half as nice as going to her aunt’s house on holidays.
And how glorious it would be to get out of boring St Margaret’s Bay. It was so dull, it drove her nuts. Paula cast a jaundiced eye around the neat little village overlooking the Irish Sea.
A row of cottages, with the odd two-storey or dormer bungalow. Then Mooney’s Bar & Lounge. Beside it, Connolly’s supermarket and post office. Beside that, the Star of the Sea
Church. Then there was the new Credit Union building that was under way. The poshy houses, where the priest and doctor and old Colonel Rogers and his alcoholic wife lived, bordered the site. The
gardens were large and shrub-filled and all immaculately kept, in stark contrast to Walter Kelly’s ramshackle plot and tumbledown cottage which adjoined the colonel’s, much to his
immense dissatisfaction.
‘You’re not in the army now, matey, so don’t be giving me any of yer lip,’ Walter would snort when the colonel periodically took him to task about the state of his
property. When Walter went on one of his renowned benders he would stand outside the colonel’s house and holler drunken abuse until the sergeant came along with his uniform on over his
pyjamas, and dragged him home, promising him that if he carried on like this again he’d find himself up in Mountjoy Prison. He had been promising Walter this for the last ten years.
That was about the height of excitement of life in St Margaret’s Bay, Paula thought glumly as she walked past Walter’s neglected house and garden.
She hadn’t told Conor about Niall’s pass. He’d go mad and probably sock him on the jaw. He was always very possessive of her. Maybe she just might let it slip and see what
happened. Somehow the idea of men fighting over her was rather appealing.
Paula walked briskly through the village, her long blond hair blowing behind her in the warm breeze. She was really looking forward to today and what a beautiful day it was. It was a scorcher,
just the way she liked them. If there was one thing Paula loved it was lying in the sun. A tan always looked really well on her and accentuated the deep blue of her eyes and highlighted the blond
of her hair. Today, she was going to look very well as she already had a light bronzed glow. Today she was going to be a bridesmaid at her sister Louise’s wedding. Today was her last day in
her summer job. Today was the Day of Days and tomorrow . . . she felt like doing a little twirl of happiness. Tomorrow she would be in Dublin with Helen for the last few days in July and the whole
month of August. What joy! What bliss! Helen’s house was pure luxury and Paula had a gorgeous room all to herself. A delightful room where the curtains matched the bedspread, there was even a
matching lampshade and waste basket.
Paula loved that room. She loved it much more than her grotty old bedroom at home. God, what a mess that was! Sharing with two other sisters was such a drag. Sleeping with Rebecca was an even
bigger drag. They were always fighting. Rebecca was the noisiest person to sleep with, she was always cucking. Paula would lie in bed fuming while her sister gave a little snore and then a cuck,
and then a snore and then a cuck. It was enough to drive anyone batty. When she couldn’t take it any longer she would give her an elbow in the ribs and tell her to keep her mouth shut and
stop snoring. Then Rebecca would get mad and curse at her and there’d be a row. At least now that Louise was going they’d have a bed each. That was one of the joys of going to
Helen’s for her holidays. Not only had she a bed to herself, she had a
room
to herself with an entire wardrobe for her clothes and a dressing-table full of fabulous creams and
perfumes and talcs and exquisite nail varnishes. Going to heaven was surely only half as nice as going to her aunt’s house on holidays.
And how glorious it would be to get out of boring St Margaret’s Bay. It was so dull, it drove her nuts. Paula cast a jaundiced eye around the neat little village overlooking the Irish Sea.
A row of cottages, with the odd two-storey or dormer bungalow. Then Mooney’s Bar & Lounge. Beside it, Connolly’s supermarket and post office. Beside that, the Star of the Sea
Church. Then there was the new Credit Union building that was under way. The poshy houses, where the priest and doctor and old Colonel Rogers and his alcoholic wife lived, bordered the site. The
gardens were large and shrub-filled and all immaculately kept, in stark contrast to Walter Kelly’s ramshackle plot and tumbledown cottage which adjoined the colonel’s, much to his
immense dissatisfaction.
‘You’re not in the army now, matey, so don’t be giving me any of yer lip,’ Walter would snort when the colonel periodically took him to task about the state of his
property. When Walter went on one of his renowned benders he would stand outside the colonel’s house and holler drunken abuse until the sergeant came along with his uniform on over his
pyjamas, and dragged him home, promising him that if he carried on like this again he’d find himself up in Mountjoy Prison. He had been promising Walter this for the last ten years.
That was about the height of excitement of life in St Margaret’s Bay, Paula thought glumly as she walked past Walter’s neglected house and garden.
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