Freckles(81)

He pulls down an errand list. He needs to go to the supermarket to purchase milk and bread, post a letter, buy a coffee, collect dry cleaning. That kind of thing, and it all needs to be done before a parking ticket is issued. He collects money after achieving each goal.

He achieves it all on time, and happy warden, happy music. A sprinkle of colour, a tinkly tune. A wow and a good job. He wins level one.

It gets more complicated in each level, he says. Less time, more errands. If I don’t achieve it all I get a ticket and I lose money. Warden Wipeout. You can get rewards based on performance, he explains. A parking angel is one. It tops you up and gives you more time.

I smile.

The warden is not evil. She’s the hero of the game.

It doesn’t have blood, guts and gore. It’s the least complex game we’ve created but its simplicity is its magic. There’s a clear objective, it’s easy to navigate. It rewards you for your deeds and makes you feel good. Ideal for those who crave the instant gratification and sense of accomplishment that box ticking brings. It’s going to be Cockadoodledoo’s first game, he says. Launching in the app store next month.

I smile. Thank you.





Thirty


The jewellery robbery is headline news. Two men attack the woman inside and take off with gold. I immediately recognise the white van that they describe and, knowing this is a way to prove that I’m not what they thought I was, I go straight to the garda station. I ask for Laura and I’m grateful to have a face-to-face with her, even if it’s speaking to her through the hatch. I have to do my duty and I want to prove to her that I’m a good person, friend worthy. I tell her everything I know about the white van that was parked in the free parking bay all day. I show her the photographs I took of the wheel valve, how it was moved various times, clearly in an effort to do reconnaissance of the area, not that I was trying to lead her, or plant motive and whatever in her head. She listens and takes notes. I even explain the description of the guy I saw driving the van, as I got a clear look at him.

Thanks, Allegra, she says, we’ll follow up on that. We’ll be in touch with you if we need anything further.

Great. Cool. Oh and one other thing. I hand her a leaflet for the event. This is happening this week. It’s a women in business event being organised by the president of the Malahide Chamber of Commerce. I’m helping to organise it. The Minister for Justice is coming. She’s the guest speaker.

I’ve seen the posters all around the place. I didn’t realise you were involved.

Well I know the minister. So …

She must be very busy with everything going on at the moment.

Yes. She is. But she’ll still be there. She’s definitely coming.

Okay. Thanks, Allegra. I might see you then. She takes the leaflet and goes to close the hatch.

Good luck catching the man in the white van! I wink and exit the station feeling good. Coins collected. Level up. The parking warden is not a bad person.

The twenty-fourth of June has arrived. The day of Carmencita’s big event.

My bags are packed, I move out tomorrow. Genevieve helped me find a room in a three-bedroom townhouse. I’ll be sharing with a tech guy and a barber. I won’t sleep with either of them. It’s five hundred for the month. I don’t have the same space and privacy that I have now, but at least it’s where I need it to be, near my mam.

I haven’t seen or spoken to Becky since she evicted me. I haven’t even spoken to Donnacha. Everyone is giving one another a wide berth and the tension I feel when I step outside to walk through the secret garden and past the house is enough to convince me that it’s time to leave. I’ve requested to Fingal County Council that I stay in Malahide, so I’m hoping they don’t relocate me. I believe Becky will be at the event tonight and I’m hoping that when she sees Minister Brasil there, talking to me, she’ll realise I’m not the lying freak she has convinced herself I am. Most importantly, I can tell my mother who I am and she can feel proud. I’m hopeful about it all. I really am.

Carmencita has offered to do my hair for the event. We do our hair, our nails and have a glass of champagne before walking up the road to St Sylvester’s GAA club along with her staff. I’m really in a bubble of bliss. Every moment spent with her, even with her not knowing who I am, feels like a gift. Everyone’s excited, giddy and on a high.

Local and national journalists are inside, but outside TV crews and newspaper photographers are parked up on account of the big political drama that’s playing out, hoping to get a statement from her on the current state of affairs. The minister is due to arrive at 8.30 and also be the guest speaker. Even though she’s not a local businesswoman, Genevieve is my plus one, here to support me. Tristan arrives and Carmencita fawns all over him.

Are men allowed in, he asks.

Of course you are, she says. My children absolutely adore you, my daughter in particular. Rooster, Rooster, Rooster, she laughs.

Is that so. He looks up at me, teasing.

I widen my eyes, afraid he’ll give it away. Not that daughter. Not yet. Not yet. I need this night to be a success first.

Did you know that Rooster paid for all the wine tonight, Carmencita tells me before moving on.

No, I didn’t know that, I study him, appreciatively … thanks, Tristan.

I wanted to help, he says, moving closer to me, but I look past him, my eyes on Carmencita.