Carolyn for Christmas Read online

“All right, I won’t drag this out,” Damien said, worrying his hands together. “You did much better on your solo today. Much, much better. But I’ve decided to give the part to Saoirse.”

  Though she’d been prepared for it, a wave of disappointment washed over Carolyn and she felt her legs become unsteady between her. She must have looked crestfallen, because Damien, unlike his usual unruffled self, looked panicked.

  “It’s not personal, Carolyn. I just can’t have a repeat of the last practice on the night. You’ll have another chance to try again next year.”

  Carolyn clenched and unclenched her fists. No. She might have until next year to get the part, but she doubted her mother had that long to wait. She had wanted to give her mother a nice memory while there was still time. Now, that hope was in ruins.

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and inhaled sharply.

  “Okay, Damien. I understand.”

  The shake in her legs had travelled all the way to her fingers, and she felt faint. She had to sit down. She turned on her heel and walked as proudly as she could to the backstage area. Once there, she collapsed into a seat, her hands jumping and jittering in her lap.

  Her cheek felt wet—she realised she was crying, her disappointment and grief flowing more freely than it had since her mother had first gotten sick.

  Just one more time to sing for her mother—that’s all she had wanted. She couldn’t even manage that for the woman who had raised her by herself, gone without so that Carolyn could have what she couldn’t.

  Carolyn pushed the tears away with the palms of her hands, but they just kept coming.

  You need to stop, she told herself. You can’t go back out there with big, red eyes. You can’t let people see you’ve been crying.

  She would never give people the satisfaction of seeing her upset. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d avoided making a fool of herself in front of people. Even when they’d said she was poor or pathetic or just stopped wanting to be her friend, she hadn’t cried. When some kids at school called her mother a slut because Carolyn had no father, she hadn’t got upset. Instead, she’d punched the ringleader so hard that no one ever made the mistake of talking crap about her mother ever again.

  She heard a creak on the floorboard and pulled her hands back from her eyes.

  “Carolyn, I—”

  Saoirse! The tears stopped falling immediately as her outrage took over.

  “What? What do you want?” Carolyn demanded. “Were you coming in here to get a good look at me being upset? Because you’re shit out of luck, Barrett.”

  Saoirse stopped awkwardly and pushed a hand through the hair that had fallen into her face.

  “Of course not,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  Carolyn laughed in disbelief.

  “Oh, sure you were. As if you’re not delighted to take it from me. Go on, you can admit it. I would actually respect you more for the honesty.”

  Saoirse took one more step forward, her eyes narrowing.

  “Look, I wanted the part, but I knew it was important to you, too. I was just trying to be classy about the whole thing.”

  Carolyn stood up and put her face two inches from Saoirse’s.

  Stop noticing she’s pretty, she told herself as she stared into Saoirse’s deep-blue eyes. The devil can wear any face it wants.

  “How classy were you being when you went on the radio to announce that you probably had the solo? Because what else was Damien to do but give it to you then? I’ve got to hand it to you, Saoirse, that was clever. Low, even by your standards, but clever.”

  Saoirse huffed and stuck a hand on her hip.

  “I never told the DJ to ask me that. I was put on the spot. The whole reason I was there was to…was to…”

  Carolyn tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows.

  “To what, huh? What did you think you were doing?”

  Saoirse folded her arms and stepped backwards heavily.

  “Oh, never mind. Sorry for trying to be decent.”

  She flipped her hair and plodded towards the door. She rounded the corner to the stage without looking back.

  The second she was gone, Carolyn slumped back in the chair again, all her fight and energy drained out of her. No matter how hard Carolyn worked, no matter how much she studied and put in the effort to make something of herself, people like Saoirse—who were born to win—would win.

  She was blinking back a fresh stream of tears when the floorboard creaked again. Saoirse was back.

  “Oh, can you just fuck off for the evening and leave me alone?” she wailed pathetically, and her pride stung at the sound. “You did it, you won. Just leave me be.”

  Saoirse pressed her back against the wall and folded her arms. She didn’t look at Carolyn.

  “Listen, I would love to get far away from your horrible fucking attitude, but I can’t. It looks like the rest of them left and locked us in. The lights are all off on the stage and in the hall.”

  Carolyn licked the salt from her lips as she considered this information. It couldn’t be right. Damien was supposed to check the backstage before he locked up for the night. He had to still be out there.

  As if to torment her more, at that moment, the light above Carolyn’s head buzzed and clicked. The room was plunged into darkness.

  Shit.

  “We’d better race down and catch them at the front door. They must be just locking up.”

  Saoirse nodded. She didn’t bother to wait for Carolyn to follow, just angled the screen of her smartphone out for light as she disappeared out the stage door.

  Carolyn hurried to catch up, moving as lightly as she could in her towering heels so Saoirse wouldn’t hear she was running. She caught up just as Saoirse was gingerly descending the steps to the stage.

  She pushed ahead of her, tracing her steps down the middle of the hall from memory. She mightn’t have beaten Saoirse to that solo, but she’d beat her to the door.

  Gratifyingly, she heard Saoirse pick up her pace as she tried to keep up with her. Carolyn jogged the last few feet to push open the big hall doors.

  “Child,” Saoirse tutted.

  Whatever, Carolyn thought. I won.

  The joy of her victory was short-lived however. When she stepped outside the heavy oak doors of the hall, Damien was nowhere to be found.

  * * * * *

  Was God punishing her? Allah? Mohammed? Buddha?

  What the hell had Saoirse done in her life that warranted getting stuck in her old, depressing secondary school with a feral woman who would be happy to see her egged on stage?

  Damien had—as Carolyn had so astutely observed when she’d reached the entry corridor ahead of Saoirse—locked them in for the night.

  That dopey bastard.

  She scrabbled for the light switch beside the thick, front entry doors, and Carolyn sighed.

  “They won’t work.”

  Saoirse flicked a row of switches up and down anyway. Carolyn clicked her tongue as Saoirse tried the switches more rapidly.

  “I already told you they won’t work,” Carolyn snapped. “They’re on a timer. Remember the last time Damien made us stay too late and the lights all switched off in unison?”

  A dull horror awakened in Saoirse’s stomach as she vaguely recollected the incident Carolyn was talking about. Official word afterwards was that the lights were timed to save electricity and money when not in use. They could only be overridden by the staff.

  Saoirse took her hand away from the light switches.

  “Give me your phone,” Carolyn demanded. Saoirse was wowed by the utter cheek of her.

  “Use your own damn phone. Mine’s dead. I used the last of the battery trying to light the way when you were busy trying to trample over me.”

  In the dull moonlight streaming in over the window to the entrance, she saw Carolyn roll her eyes.

  “My phone is in my car. Outside.”

  Saoirse rubbed her fingers
against her forehead.

  “Fantastic. So what are we supposed to do now?”

  She uncovered her face and saw just the purple of Carolyn’s jacket collar in the distance as she took off ahead of Saoirse.

  “Wait!” Saoirse shouted. “Where are you going to? Wait!”

  Her boots pinched her toes and rubbed at her heels as she started running after Carolyn. She was panting as she caught up.

  “For God’s sake, can we just get along for five minutes until we find a way out?”

  Carolyn sucked some air between her teeth.

  “Fine. Hurry up. I’m heading to the back door to see if it that’s open. Failing that, we’ll try the staff room to see if there’s a phone we can use to get help.”

  Saoirse fell in line behind Carolyn—the other woman seemed to know the way. Though they came here every week for choir practice, and had attended school there for five years, Saoirse could not for the life of her remember where everything was.

  As she hurried to keep pace with Carolyn, though, her foot snagged on a piece of decades-old carpet or a loose tile or something else she couldn’t quite see. She stumbled hard into Carolyn.

  “Jesus Christ!” Carolyn yelled. “Will you watch it?”

  “Oh, will you calm down. I couldn’t help it. I can’t see where I’m going.”

  Carolyn stopped dead and stood still a moment. She sighed deeply.

  “Fine. Grab onto my arm and I’ll lead you. Just until we find a light switch.”

  Saoirse nodded, though it wasn’t like Carolyn could see her.

  “Fine. Thanks.” The gratitude burned like acid in her throat.

  They stayed silent all the way through the walk to the back door, the only sounds the clip-clopping of their heels on the floor and their breathing as they moved. Saoirse’s eyes had adjusted to the dark by now so that she could make out Carolyn’s shape and the doors of classrooms as they passed, but she still gripped Carolyn’s arm tightly.

  She could sense Carolyn’s resentment of her and she almost spoke to defend herself a couple of times. But pride, and fear of Carolyn’s reaction, kept the words buried in her mind.

  “This is it,” Carolyn said. She shook Saoirse’s hand off her arm and Saoirse was surprised how much the action stung her.

  Two more heavy doors, varnished in black paint, were in front of them. Carolyn slid her hand up to the top of the door and then down to the base, wriggling the deadbolts until they popped free of the metal tube.

  She grabbed a hold of the brass handle and twisted.

  “Fuck! I was hoping it wasn’t key-locked but we’re out of luck.” She huffed. “Balls to that anyway.”

  Carolyn inhaled heavily through her nose a couple of times and closed her eyes in exasperation. She opened her eyes again.

  “Right, let’s try the staff room for a phone.” She turned from the door and took a few steps. “You can grab my arm again if you need to.”

  Saoirse wasn’t quite sure she needed to, but she did it anyway. The school without screaming teenage girls and trilling bells was kind of creepy. Every move they made echoed off the high ceilings and walls and back to them.

  She could have grabbed the banister instead of Carolyn’s arm as they walked up the creaking, wooden steps to the staff room, but she still didn’t.

  Only when they reached the top of the stairs did she let go.

  “The principal’s office is near here,” Saoirse pointed out. “I’ll try that, too.”

  She got a short “whatever” in response and Carolyn headed for the staff room as Saoirse inched her way along the wall to the principal’s office. There had to be a phone in there; there must be. When you entered the room, you had to stop at a receptionist’s desk; the principal’s office was adjacent to that desk via a second door to the right. There was definitely a phone at the receptionist’s desk, she recalled. She’d used it to call her mum to collect her one time when she was sick.

  She squinted at the name plate in the dim light to be sure it was the right room and, when she saw it was, she turned the knob on the door.

  Damn it! It was locked, too.

  Down the corridor, she saw the light switch on in the staff room. Thank God! It made sense that the staff room lights had to be operational at all times. She followed the glow back to the glass-panel door.

  “Find a phone?” she said as entered the room.

  Carolyn was hunkered down sifting through a cupboard.

  “No,” she said, her voice muffled as she stuck her head right in. She pulled her head back out and a second later her arms, too. “But I did find these!”

  Saoirse looked in confusion at the finds—an almost full litre of vodka and a massive bag of salt and vinegar crisps.

  “If we’re going to be stuck here for the night, we might as well make ourselves comfortable,” Carolyn said with a shrug.

  Saoirse sat in one of the old-fashioned, green fabric armchairs and settled in. She couldn’t argue with that logic.

  * * * * *

  Drunk was the only way Carolyn was going to get through the rest of this night. Her visit with her mother earlier that day had been tough without all the rest of this on top of it. She’d been playing and replaying their conversation over and over in her mind—the horrific realisation that her mother wasn’t going to get better intensified with every replay.

  The speed at which June’s condition was deteriorating was frightening. She’d been relegated to a hospital bed for the last three months. Her illness made Carolyn extra grateful for her job; she could at least pay for the best care June could get. Carolyn had tried to insist that June stay in a private room, recuperating in peace, but June had dismissed the idea.

  “Ah no, Carolyn. I’d go cracked without anyone to talk to.”

  So she put her in a ward with seven more beds, the ever-changing stream of patients coming in and out a source of fascination and banter for June. She was well liked on the ward; the nurses even sneaked her a bottle of beer on her birthday.

  But her good spirits couldn’t stop the inevitable. The cancer was getting the better of her. Every time she spoke, her breathing rattled and she coughed every minute or so. She was shrinking before Carolyn’s eyes, her skin aging a decade in a matter of months and her hair dull and flat. Her smile was still as warm as it always was, the mischievous twinkle still dancing in her eye, but she couldn’t walk more than ten steps now without having to sit down and rest.

  Of course, she was insisting she was fine—that Carolyn needn’t fuss over her.

  “I want to fuss, Mam,” Carolyn told her on this most recent visit. “Sure, where else would I be?”

  June patted her hand.

  “You have your concert to get ready for. And maybe you have a girl on the go? You’re such a pretty girl. You could have your pick of them.”

  Just like her mam to sing her praises. She was the only reason Carolyn had believed she could become somebody when she grew up.

  Carolyn blushed, poured some 7UP into the plastic cup on her mother’s locker to mask her embarrassment.

  “Would you stop, Mam? I’ll get a big head. I’ve plenty of time to get to practice.”

  Her mother went quiet—the silence lasted a few moments. It was always concerning to Carolyn when June went quiet, since she was happiest when she was talking.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Something’s on your mind.”

  Her mother pushed a breath out from her cheeks.

  “We need to talk about a will.”

  Carolyn shook her head.

  “We don’t. Don’t talk like that. It’s not time for that yet.”

  June smiled sadly at her, pushed herself up in the bed to touch Carolyn’s shoulder.

  “We do, love. You’re not talking with your solicitor head on. You’re talking with your daughter head on. You know we have to do it soon.”

  Carolyn shoved down the upset that was pinching her nose, grabbing her throat shut, and tickling her eyes.

  “Ok
ay, Mam,” she said quietly. “I’ll get the papers together in the office next week.”

  “Good girl,” June said, patting her hand. “You’re still my best girl.”

  Carolyn had sped down the road home after that conversation, pressing the accelerator as hard as she could without losing control, all in the vain hopes of throwing off the memory of the interaction.

  Fat load of good that did, she thought, as she swigged a mouthful of vodka straight from the bottle. The liquid slid down bitter and stinging. She chased it immediately with another swig.

  “Am I allowed any of that?”

  Fucking Saoirse. First the bitch takes my solo and now she wants my vodka.

  Carolyn sighed deeply and passed the bottle without a word.

  “Why do you suppose they have that here? For a Christmas party?”

  Oh. Looked like Saoirse was going to keep trying to make conversation. Fine. Just what Carolyn wanted. Still, she thought about it.

  “I think I’d drink, too, if I had to come into this shithole every day.”

  Saoirse laughed.

  “Ha! Me too. I’d probably be drunk all day.”

  Carolyn couldn’t let that lie stand. She swung her legs from over the edge of the armchair and turned to look at Saoirse dead on.

  “Bollocks. You fucking loved school. When you’re queen of St. Bridget’s, you should love coming to school. Not like the rest of us who were just trying to get through it.”

  Saoirse snorted and folded her arms. She turned her body in the opposite direction so she was facing away from Carolyn.

  Whatever. Truth hurts. If Saoirse wanted to sulk and not speak, that would make the evening much better for Carolyn.

  She reached over to grab the vodka bottle from the foot of Saoirse’s armchair, nearly toppling her own chair with the effort. Saoirse turned back suddenly, startling Carolyn, so that she wobbled and came close to dropping the bottle. She sighed with relief when she managed not to spill a drop.

  “You know, that’s your problem, Carolyn Roche. Always assuming that everyone has it easier than you. When you’re the one that just stopped talking to me. That wasn’t my doing.”

  Carolyn slugged another shot from the bottle and stared at Saoirse.

  “You’re the one who didn’t want to be friends anymore. You needn’t start acting the victim now because you feel like it.”