Lissamore more than ever now. What a horrible, obnoxious bunch of people.’
‘I’m sorry you were subjected to that. It was drink talking. They’re normally scared shitless by girls like you.’
‘Girls like me? What
is
a girl like me? What makes me different?’
‘You have class. That’s what makes you different, in their eyes.’
‘And that makes them feel that they have the right to talk to me like that?’
‘I guess it’s a way of masking their insecurities.’
‘My heart bleeds for them! What about
my
insecurities?’
‘They probably don’t think you have any.’
‘Ha! Everyone has insecurities.’
The bichon frise looked indignantly up at her, and gave a little bark as if to say, ‘
I
don’t!’, and Izzy looked at her and smiled.
‘Hey, Babette,’ said Finn, reaching down to scratch the dog under the chin. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Her name’s Babette?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Cute!’
‘A bit girly for my taste.’
‘What’s wrong with being girly?’
Izzy saw Finn’s eyes go to her peep-toe shoes, and travel upwards to the floral print skirt, which she had teamed with a baby-pink cashmere cardigan. She saw him take in the pearl necklace, and the lapis lazuli-framed sunnies tucked into her neckline, and the chiffon scarf that she’d wound around her head, and she saw him smile as he said: ‘Nothing much at all wrong with being girly, I guess. If you’re a girl.’
Izzy felt herself go as pink as her cardigan, and said–to change the subject–‘Who does she belong to?’
‘Babette? She belongs to Fleur, who owns the boutique up the road.’
‘Fleurissima! Oh, that’s a fabulous shop! I got these shoes there.’
‘Yeah? I noticed them in the window. I was looking for a Christmas present for my ma,’ he added, as if to explain what a macho bloke like him was doing checking out a girly emporium like Fleurissima.
She saw Finn’s eyes go again to the patent leather peep-toes, and wondered–if he had noticed them in the shop–had he also noticed the obscene price tag of four hundred and ninety euro?
‘What did you end up buying her?’ she asked.
‘A raffia basket.’
Izzy had seen the pretty little baskets in the bargain bin of Fleurissima, reduced to clear at twenty-five euro.
‘Are you going to be around Lissamore much, later in the year?’ Finn asked, sitting down beside her on the sea wall.
‘No. I’m…going travelling.’
‘Going travelling’ sounded more streetwise than ‘I’m going on holiday with my best friend and my dad’. Adair had promised to treat her and Lucy to a fortnight in a five-star resort in Koh Samui in Thailand at the end of the summer, if they performed well in their first-year exams. Izzy would secretly have preferred to have gone off backpacking with her mates, but she couldn’t bear the idea of her dad staying in an island resort on his own.
‘Me too,’ said Finn. ‘In a fortnight’s time I’ll be backpacking in Queensland.’
‘Wow. How long for?’
‘Till the money runs out. Where are you heading?’
Izzy shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant fashion. ‘Haven’t decided yet. Somewhere I can chill before I start the slog of a second year in college.’
‘What are you studying?’
‘Business studies. What about you?’
‘I gave up on the idea of college.’
‘So what do you do?’
‘I work on boats.’
‘In the marina here?’
‘Yeah. And in the scuba-dive centre over on Inishclare.’
‘Oh! You’re a diver—’
‘Finn!’
A voice from across the road made them look up.
‘Hey, Ma! What’s up?’
A woman whom Izzy took to be Finn’s mother was standing in the doorway of the Kinsella house, arms akimbo. How differentshe was to Izzy’s mother, Felicity! Río Kinsella was statuesque, with turbulent red-gold hair. She reminded Izzy of the picture of Queen Maeve on the cover of a book on Irish myths and legends her father had given her once. She was barefoot and dressed boho style in
‘I’m sorry you were subjected to that. It was drink talking. They’re normally scared shitless by girls like you.’
‘Girls like me? What
is
a girl like me? What makes me different?’
‘You have class. That’s what makes you different, in their eyes.’
‘And that makes them feel that they have the right to talk to me like that?’
‘I guess it’s a way of masking their insecurities.’
‘My heart bleeds for them! What about
my
insecurities?’
‘They probably don’t think you have any.’
‘Ha! Everyone has insecurities.’
The bichon frise looked indignantly up at her, and gave a little bark as if to say, ‘
I
don’t!’, and Izzy looked at her and smiled.
‘Hey, Babette,’ said Finn, reaching down to scratch the dog under the chin. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Her name’s Babette?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Cute!’
‘A bit girly for my taste.’
‘What’s wrong with being girly?’
Izzy saw Finn’s eyes go to her peep-toe shoes, and travel upwards to the floral print skirt, which she had teamed with a baby-pink cashmere cardigan. She saw him take in the pearl necklace, and the lapis lazuli-framed sunnies tucked into her neckline, and the chiffon scarf that she’d wound around her head, and she saw him smile as he said: ‘Nothing much at all wrong with being girly, I guess. If you’re a girl.’
Izzy felt herself go as pink as her cardigan, and said–to change the subject–‘Who does she belong to?’
‘Babette? She belongs to Fleur, who owns the boutique up the road.’
‘Fleurissima! Oh, that’s a fabulous shop! I got these shoes there.’
‘Yeah? I noticed them in the window. I was looking for a Christmas present for my ma,’ he added, as if to explain what a macho bloke like him was doing checking out a girly emporium like Fleurissima.
She saw Finn’s eyes go again to the patent leather peep-toes, and wondered–if he had noticed them in the shop–had he also noticed the obscene price tag of four hundred and ninety euro?
‘What did you end up buying her?’ she asked.
‘A raffia basket.’
Izzy had seen the pretty little baskets in the bargain bin of Fleurissima, reduced to clear at twenty-five euro.
‘Are you going to be around Lissamore much, later in the year?’ Finn asked, sitting down beside her on the sea wall.
‘No. I’m…going travelling.’
‘Going travelling’ sounded more streetwise than ‘I’m going on holiday with my best friend and my dad’. Adair had promised to treat her and Lucy to a fortnight in a five-star resort in Koh Samui in Thailand at the end of the summer, if they performed well in their first-year exams. Izzy would secretly have preferred to have gone off backpacking with her mates, but she couldn’t bear the idea of her dad staying in an island resort on his own.
‘Me too,’ said Finn. ‘In a fortnight’s time I’ll be backpacking in Queensland.’
‘Wow. How long for?’
‘Till the money runs out. Where are you heading?’
Izzy shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant fashion. ‘Haven’t decided yet. Somewhere I can chill before I start the slog of a second year in college.’
‘What are you studying?’
‘Business studies. What about you?’
‘I gave up on the idea of college.’
‘So what do you do?’
‘I work on boats.’
‘In the marina here?’
‘Yeah. And in the scuba-dive centre over on Inishclare.’
‘Oh! You’re a diver—’
‘Finn!’
A voice from across the road made them look up.
‘Hey, Ma! What’s up?’
A woman whom Izzy took to be Finn’s mother was standing in the doorway of the Kinsella house, arms akimbo. How differentshe was to Izzy’s mother, Felicity! Río Kinsella was statuesque, with turbulent red-gold hair. She reminded Izzy of the picture of Queen Maeve on the cover of a book on Irish myths and legends her father had given her once. She was barefoot and dressed boho style in
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