Page 129 of To Hell With It

‘I think so, yes,’ Mairéad said.

I thought about what she was saying. It made sense. He was protecting his mother and he was protecting me – why else push me into the cupboard? It was an instinctive reaction, like someone pushing a child out of harm’s way. That’s what Niall was doing; only he was a child too.

‘And what about Niall?’ Mairéad said gently breaking into my thoughts. She always had a way of doing that softly, so as not to intrude or take away from them but to bring me back into the room. ‘How is he coping with it all, do you think? It’s a lot to carry as a child, and as an adult.’

‘He doesn’t give much away, he never has.’ I said at the same time realising I didn’t actually know how Niall was at all.

‘You could always give him my number, if you wanted to?’

‘I’m not sure he’d have therapy. I can’t imagine him having it anyway.’

‘You never know. Sometimes these things have a way of forcing us to admit there’s a problem. It might be a case of timing.’

‘There’s no harm in trying, I suppose.’

‘Good girl,’ Mairéad said with a wink. ‘Anyway, back to you. How about I give you a welcome-home challenge?

‘That depends what it is?’

‘Nothing too strenuous, just something to get things moving in the right direction – you’ve come on leaps and bounds since your trip. Let’s put it to the test.’ Mairéad smiled. ‘In the morning, you have to walk down your stairs once, no matter what pops into your head and get to the salon regardless of red cars. In fact, look out for them.

‘What if I mess it up?’

‘That’s fine, just remember to keep…’

‘Climbing the mountain.’ I finished her sentence and we both laughed.

‘I missed you, Pearl,’ Mairéad said and her eyes glistened.

‘I missed you too.’

There was a beat, but just as quickly Mairéad composed herself and stood up.

‘I best be off, remember to give my number to Niall, sounds like a great guy, one of the good ones.’ She winked.

‘I will.’

I followed her to the door. Her tissue was still in her hand, scrunched in a little ball. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in tight.

‘Thank you, Mairéad, for everything.’

‘It’s my pleasure,’ she whispered back. ‘See you next week?’

‘Definitely.’ I smiled.

I watched Mairéad walk to her car; she stopped to look at Niall’s woodlice box and then back at me with a grin. Then she got in, gave me a beep and I waved until Mairéad disappeared up the New Line and out of sight.

ChapterSixty-Three

When I woke up, the birds were singing and the light was shining in through my window and I felt good. I felt like I’d had the best night’s sleep of my life, which didn’t make sense because I’d gone back and checked everything multiple times and gone to bed with a head that felt like I had a hangover. But I’d put it down to the jetlag.

After I’d had my shower and got changed (salmon-pink jumper and jeans, of course), I stood at the top of my stairs and took a deep breath. I’d wondered if I’d still think of Mr O’Callaghan’s penis. I’d fantasised that perhaps now that I knew what had happened that I would be healed, that I would spring down the stairs with light steps, big strides, stopping only to lock my door, once, and never look back. But I knew that wasn’t really going to happen. I still had OCD. I still thought of Mr O’Callaghan’s penis.

I stepped forwards.

‘One, two, three, four, five, six, Mr O’Callaghan’s penis in Maggie Ryan’s mouth.’

‘Fuck!’

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