Martina Evans

poet / novelist

CHAPTER SEVEN

I was sitting on Colette’s bed, swinging my legs. Trish sat on the floor. I was getting sick of Trish, she was either in a bad mood, telling us to ‘Cop on,’ or she was like she was tonight, friendly and determined to stay in the way.Colette was doing loads of exercises. She had done one hundred sit-ups, fifty leg stretches on each side and she was going to beat her previous record of two hundred waist twists.
It wore me out, looking at her: I lay down on the bed and watched her face, contorting and grimacing. It was all pink and shiny. And still she looked nice. She wore a long T-shirt that came just to the top of her long legs. I thought she looked brilliant.
‘Sing to me,’ she said every now and then, and I laughed.
Of course I wasn’t going to sing. It was someone like Colette who could sing out of tune and still sound okay. Make the song even better. That was because she really did have a good voice. But it was weak and she mocked it. And then the weakness sounded the best part of it.
‘You sing,’ I said.
‘Okay, wait a minute!’ Colette began to twist her waist faster and more savagely. ‘Just give me a minute,’ and she hacked her body each way. ‘I must be thin for Christmas.’
Her face got redder and redder and her cheeks bulged. And just when she was beginning to look really awful, she stopped. It took her a few minutes to get her breath back.
‘You’re going to give yourself a heart condition,’ Trish was talking like she was fifty.
‘Not I,’ Colette gasped and she wasn’t able to say anything more for a few minutes. Just stood there, wiping her face and chest and arms with yellow tissues and panting.
‘Actually, I think I’ll have a wash!’ she said and gave a grin to Trish. She pulled off her T-shirt. She had nothing on except a small pair of purple knickers. They were about the same colour purple as her hands. I found it embarrassing.
Colette pulled her breath in really tight and showed off her rib cage. I thought she was perfect but I didn’t like her standing in front of us, half naked. I felt awful uncomfortable. Mainly because I was afraid that she would expect me to do the same. The way some people weigh themselves in front of you and then ask you to get on the scales.
Colette soaped and soaped, making a lather all over her arms and chest. Showing off. I couldn’t stick it another minute. ‘Oh God, this is
so boring, I must get back to my book.’
Colette caught her T-shirt, pulled it over her head and sat down next to me. Holding my eyes to hers, she swished back her silky hair. ‘But don’t you find it so sexciting?’
I found it silly. But I liked it, too. I never knew what I would do if we were alone. Sometimes I wished I were a different person. Someone who could throw herself into things. Or throw my clothes off the way Colette did.
‘Stop embarrassing Grace,’ Trish said and I hated her.
‘I’m not embarrassed,’ I said.
‘Of course she’s not. She loves me,’ Colette howled the word love like a wolf and pulled my head against her damp sleeves for a second.
‘You never told us the story of
Deirdre of Sorrows,’ Trish’s latest thing was that we should do educational things with each other.
Colette sat up enthusiastically, ‘Go on, why don’t you tell it?’
‘Are you sure you never heard it?’ I said, not wanting them to say half way through the telling, ‘Oh but we know that old thing.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said Colette. ‘We’re positive.’
‘Well,’ I began, ‘there was this beautiful girl called Deirdre.’
‘Like you,’ Colette interjected and then said,’I’m only joking.’
‘Are you sure you want to hear this?’
‘Sure we’re sure,’ said Colette stroking my arm encouragingly.
‘Well, there was this girl, Deirdre, and the story is basically about her. Her story was full of sorrow.’
‘Definitely like you,’ said Colette, playing an imaginary violin.
‘Oh for god’s sake,’ I said, fuming and folding my arms.
‘Oh for God’s sake, oh for God’s sake,’ Colette sang to the tune of the
Banana Splits song., ‘la la la, la la la, la la la, la la la.’
I folded my arms and stopped speaking.
‘You have to tell it now. You have to! The suspense is killing me.’ Colette wrung her hands.
‘You’re really good at telling stories, come on,’ Trish said.
‘Oh all right so,’ I said. ‘But if there is one more interruption, I’m stopping. She was very sad because she was betrotted to the King of Ulster who was very rich, but desperate old.’
‘What’s betrotted?’ Trish asked.
‘It’s the old word for being engaged,’ I said, impatiently.
‘You mean betrothed,’ Colette corrected me. ‘Where did you get betrotted, you old fool,’ she began to giggle.
I went red, ‘Stop interrupting. The king’s name was Conchubhar and he knew she didn’t want him so he kept her in a house in the woods until they were ready to get married. And he’s come to visit her, and tell her he was going to get her and she’d say no, she wanted a young man with the hair of a raven and skin of snow and lips as red as if blood had been spilt on them.’
‘God, she sounds like a right animal,’ Colette said.
‘It’s a bit much all right, but that’s the way they were then and it had to sound poetic. Anyway one night, three young men arrived, it was Naoise and the sons of Usna.’
‘Hohoo,’ Colette said. ‘We’re getting to the sexciting part.’
‘It was love and it was beautiful and so sad, because it was all foretold in a prophesy that the king got. But he paid no heed to it. Deirdre was even embroidering a tapestry of three huntsman before she ever saw them. They arrived one day and Naoise fell in love with Deirdre.’
‘He’d no choice,’Colette interrupted.
‘Why? Because she was beautiful?’ Trish leaned forward.
‘No, because of the prophesy.’
‘That’s true actually,’ I said. ‘It was like Jesus, he never had a chance either, he had to fulfil the scriptures. If he had tried to get out of it, everyone would have said that he was coward.’
‘Jesus, don’t get religious, for God’s sake,’ Colette gave me a light belt across the shoulder.
‘Well, you better stop interrupting me,’ I said.
‘Go on,’ said Trish.
‘Oh yes, and they ran away, Deirdre and the sons of Usna. Deirdre’s maid stayed behind and faced the music. Conchubhar went mad, he sent armies after them, they spent years fleeing from country to country.And do you know what he did that was terrible lousy?’
‘No, but I’m all ears,’ said Colette, screwing up her face.
I looked at her and then I did something weird. I kissed her. Not an ordinary kiss, but a kiss where our lips were exactly over each other’s. And it felt nice, soft and warm with a lot of nerves beating. I felt stupid in front of Trish, though.
‘Go on, honeybunch,’ Colette said.
‘The really lousy part was,’ I could hear my voice shake, ‘Conchubhar would tell all the kings in all the other countries how beautiful Deirdre was and then they’d want to get her , chasing Deirdre and the sons of Usna all over the place. In the end,they were getting exhausted from all the fleeing and Conchubhar promised to pardon them if they came back.’ I stopped for breath. ‘But Deirdre didn’t believe him. She kept saying it was prophesied that they would be killed by the king. Naoise wanted to chance it anyway even though Conchubhar was being fishy. He kept wanting to know if Deirdre had lost her beauty with all the years travelling. They came back even though Deirdre was against it and Conchubhar sent Deirdre’s old maid to see if Deirdre was still beautiful and the maid went back and pretended that Deirdre had lost all her beauty and was gone all wrinkled. Conchubhar didn’t believe her. He found out Deirdre was still beautiful and had the two sons of Usna killed. Deirdre was so heartbroken, she split her head off a rock rather than let Conchubhar get her.’
‘Well she sounds like a right fool, she could have married the king afterwards and have Naoise as well and had all the money,’ said Colette.
‘But she couldn’t stand Conchubhar,’ I said. ‘I think it’s great. It was romantic. They were in love.’
‘And I’m in love with you and you keep rejecting me.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Prove it,’ said Colette, pulling me down in the bed, on top of her chest. I wanted to stay like that but I couldn’t with Trish there. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I broke away and heaved over the side of the bed, feeling breathless.
‘I must get back to bed,’ I said, shivering as my warm feet made contact with the cold tiles.
‘So must I,’ said Trish, getting up heavily at last.
I looked at Colette, she was lying back in the shadows now with her eyes closed.
‘We’re going now,’ I said into the sulky silence.
‘Goodnight, Colette,’ we called again as we were walking away but there was no answer.