Love My Enemy (5 page)

'Sure I do – cold light of day and all that.'

'No!' She couldn't let him think that, it wasn't fair.
'It's not you, Con, really it isn't.'

'So what is it then?'

She frowned, wishing she had worked out what to say.

He stared at her. 'Is it Gary? It
is
him, isn't it?'

'Mum wouldn't give him Dad's sash this morning.
She told him to stop marching.'

Conor whistled, a low admiring whistle. 'That was
brave.'

'Aye, but he blamed me,' she blurted.

'Did Gary hurt you?'

'No, but he told Mum you were there last night. It
came out that you and I walked home together. The
thing is . . . it's not only Gary. Mum doesn't want us
going out either.'

'I see.'

'No, you don't! She's not prejudiced. She's always
dragging us off to peace protests. And she has nothing
against you. She's just scared.'

'Scared of Gary?' he asked.

'She thinks he'd go mad.'

Conor's eyes narrowed. 'Are you sure he didn't hurt
you?'

She nodded but she couldn't meet his eyes.

He took her gently by the arms, but it was just where
Gary had bruised her and she breathed in sharply.

'What the—?' He pushed up the sleeves of her tee-shirt.
'The bastard! How
dare
he?'

'So now you see! Conor. . .
us
. . . it's just not worth it.'

His mouth twisted in silent protest, then he put his
arms very carefully around her and held her close. They
felt so wonderful there, so right.

'If he ever hurts you again,' said Conor, 'if anyone
does, I'm here for you, understand?'

Zee glowed, she could barely speak; no boy had ever
made her feel this special. 'Thanks, Con.'

'I'll always be here for you, Zee.'

Through the window she saw his mother coming in
the little wicket gate. Conor saw her too and he pulled
Zee out of sight behind the curtain.

'Would she go mad too?' whispered Zee, and in spite
of everything they laughed. Parents, who'd have them?

'She'd convince herself I'd get beaten up,' he
admitted.

'She'd probably be right. Maybe it's for the best. Will
you be okay?'

'Don't you worry about me. I'll sign on with a dating
agency. I bet they'll set me up with some frosty ould
librarian with a passion for archaeology.'

Zee didn't look at him again. She didn't want to see
his big soft eyes and his warm smile. She was liking him
far too much already.

It was Friday night but Zee had still not quite forgiven
Tasha for deserting her. '
If
we go out tonight, do you
promise
to stay with me?' she demanded. 'Right to the
bitter end?'

'Yes! Of course I will. I have said sorry.'

'Hmm. . . Anyway, there aren't any discos on.'

'We could go to the Co-op,' said Tasha. 'It's been a
whole week since we went anywhere.'

'Not the Co-op,' groaned Zee. '
Please
not the Co-op.'

Her eyes watered as she applied the charcoal eye-liner
that was part of Tasha's huge range of make-up.
Apparently her father sent her an allowance every
month. Zee could not help being just a tiny bit envious;
it would have taken her six whole months to save up for
this lot.

'You told me yourself,' Tasha continued, 'that the
football pitch behind the Co-op is where the crowd
hangs out.'

'It is, but don't you think it's a bit uncool to – er –
chase guys?'

Tasha shrugged carelessly. 'I'm sure there's a very
good reason why Gary hasn't been in touch with me.'

'Maybe.'

Zee had not shown Tasha her bruises, or even told her
about the blow up with her brother. Something, some
sense of family loyalty, stopped her. She even felt a little
guilty now. Maybe she had wound Gary up a bit, like her
mum said. Maybe
she
was the reason that he hadn't rung
Tasha.

'I know why you're being such a bore,' said Tasha
crossly. 'It's because of that Conor O'Keefe, isn't it?'

'Could be.'

'It was your decision not to see him again. I really
don't understand what the problem is.'

'I just didn't think I'd feel this down about him.'

'Then all the more reason to get out and have fun.'

'You're probably right – but I can't think of anything
less fun than spending Friday night with my dead end
brother and Desperate Des.'

'But
I
want to. Oh, come on, Zee. What else is there
to do?'

'Nothing,' she admitted.

Tasha rolled her made-up eyes lavishly. 'I shall
explode if I have to sit around here for another evening.'

Zee could have stayed in Tasha's room for ever. On
the TV a good-looking black guy was dancing, though
they had turned down the volume to listen to CDs. Tasha
had lit some beeswax candles and the flames were
reflected in the floor length mirrors that covered one
wall. There was a rug with a tiger's head on the floor,
and she even had her own ironing board set up in one
corner. It seemed so adult compared to Zee's room. She
cringed at the thought of the shelves crammed with
Gemma's cuddly toys, the big doll's house and the boxes
packed with dog-eared children's books.

Suddenly Tasha whipped a bottle of Bacardi out of
her own personal Ali Baba laundry basket and splashed
it into both their Cokes.

'No!' squealed Zee, then she took an experimental
sip. 'Actually, that's quite nice. Natasha Molotov, you
are wicked!'

'Natasha Cooper, if you don't mind.' Tasha giggled at
her. 'You look ridiculous, you know. Sit still and I'll do
a repair job. Your eyes look like you've risen from the
gra—'

Zee glanced up at her in surprise. Tasha had frozen.
'The grave,' Zee finished. 'So Gary's told you about our
dad?'

'I'm so sorry – it . . . it must have been truly awful.
Trust me to put my foot in my great big mouth. I really
am sorry, Zee.'

'No sweat, I'm over it.'

'Are you?' Tasha was watching her in the mirror.

'Of course. It was more than two years ago, you know.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Why should I?' She sounded harsh so she added,
'Talking won't bring him back, will it?'

Tasha gulped her drink and brushed mascara onto
Zee's eyelashes in silence. Zee was thinking hard. If
Gary had already told Tasha about their dad, perhaps it
meant there really was something between them.
Perhaps it was wrong of her to hold them back.

'I suppose,' she said at last, 'we could go to the Coop
just this once. But it'll be
really
boring. They'll all be
getting drunk on cheap cider.'

Tasha beamed at her. 'I think I can find something
more exciting than that,' she said.

Something more exciting turned out to be a bottle of
wine which she filched from the living room sideboard.

'You can't do that,' whispered Zee in horror. 'That's
stealing!'

'Not really, not as if it's from a shop or something.'

'But it's not yours!'

'Cool it, Zee. It really doesn't matter.'

'But . . . won't they miss it?'

Magda and Miguel came into the room at just that
moment. Tasha slipped the bottle into her bag and spun
round just in time. She didn't look at all cool now. She
had turned bright red and Zee could feel her own cheeks
burning too.

'What are you two up to?' asked Magda with a grin.
Miguel was not laughing however. He was staring at
Tasha, his heavy tanned face swallowed up in one huge
frown. He said something to Magda in his own language
and she answered him briefly.

'Miguel is wondering where you're off to,' said
Magda, 'dressed like that?'

'Like what?' demanded Tasha rudely.

'Without your clothes on,' said Miguel, his top lip
curling in distaste.

Zee spoke before Tasha could do any more damage.
'We're just going to meet up with my brother. We're not
going to a party or anything.' Privately, she had already
thought that Tasha looked a bit tarty in a short suede skirt
and a skimpy top that showed off her pierced belly button.

'In Bosnia we have a word for girls who dress like
this.'

'So do we,' snapped Tasha. 'Fashionable!'

'Pah!'

'Zee is a bit more covered up,' said Magda gently.

Zee, who was wearing jeans, brushed the comment
aside airily. 'Oh, I just couldn't be bothered tonight . . . '

'We'll see you later,' announced Tasha and she tried
to march out of the room. Miguel lifted her red silk
jacket off the couch and held it out to her, blocking her
way. Tasha scowled at him, scandalised. 'It doesn't even
match!' she told him. '
Mum
?'

There was a moment's thorny silence and Zee braced
herself; no way was she going to break this one.

'Take it,' said Magda.

Tasha turned her scowl on her mother, as if she had
been betrayed, then she snatched the jacket from Miguel
and walked haughtily out. Zee hurried after her,
whispering, 'Corkscrew!' into her ear.

Complaining bitterly, Tasha got stuck into the wine
right away and by the time they had left the red stone
pavements of Hazel Grove behind, she was ranting.

'Just who does he think he is? He's not my father.'

'It's just different cultures, Tasha, different outlooks.'

'Yeah, well he can keep his! I wish he'd go back to
bloody Bosnia.'

'He can't,' giggled Zee. 'That's the whole point of
being a refugee. They can't go back.'

'So why did
my
mum have to take pity on him? We
were all right before he came along, you know. Following
her around all day like a big bloody dog! He's not got any
money, you know. He's living off us!'

'They're married, Tasha, they're in love! I think it's
dead romantic. You'll soon get used to him.'

'Pah!'

'See? You're picking up the lingo already.'

Tasha laughed in spite of herself. She started playing
hopscotch on the paving stones. She leapt onto all the
cracks, stretching her legs wide to reach the edge of the
paving stones, then bringing her knees close together to
balance on the crack in the middle.

'You're doing it all wrong,' Zee called. 'You're
supposed to land on the paving slabs and avoid the cracks.'

'Cracks are more fun,' announced Tasha. 'Live
dangerously – that's what I say!'

'Just how much have you drunk?'

Tasha didn't answer. Zee seemed to have some
catching up to do. She didn't approve of Tasha nicking
the bottle of wine, but she didn't want to be the only
person stone cold sober this evening. She raised Tasha's
shoulder bag to her lips then hopscotched after her new
friend. For the first time in a week she felt happy.

They jumped over the Co-op fence onto the edge of
the football pitch and collapsed in a giggly heap on the
other side.

'Oh no, there's Gary,' whispered Tasha although he
was a hundred yards off. 'And I've got burps!'

'He's got his arm around someone,' said Zee, 'the
poor girl.'

'It's that Ruby.'

Zee giggled again. 'Are you growling, Tasha?'

'I shall tear her head off.'

'I wouldn't bother, she looks like she could knock
you flat.'

Tasha need not have worried about her burps because
Gary didn't seem to notice her at all for the first half
hour. They hung about pretending to watch six boys
kicking a ball between goalposts at one end of the pitch.
The rest of the crowd, perhaps a dozen in all, stood
smoking and passing round cans of lager. It was every
bit as brain-numbingly dull as Zee remembered from her
first brief visit there a year ago. Then, out of the corner
of her eye, she saw Des nudge Gary.

'They're coming over, Tasha, look.'

But Tasha had whirled round so they couldn't see her
face and she was hopping about again just like she had
that night at the bonfire.

'Gary looks embarrassed,' hissed Zee. 'So he should
– the rat – he should have phoned you. Give him a hard
time, Tash!'

'Hi,' said Gary, his eyes bright beneath his curls.
'Good to see you, Tasha.' He ignored Zee completely
but Des treated her to a ghastly rubber lipped smile. Zee
squirmed and tried to hide behind the bottle of wine.

'Hello, Gary,' replied Tasha, coolly.

'I'm glad you came,' he said.

'Are you?'

'Yeah.'

Why did nobody at the field ever speak in words of
more than one syllable? Zee wondered impatiently.
'Haven't you got something else to say to Tasha?' she
demanded. 'Something beginning with S?'

'Zee, don't,' begged Tasha, blushing.

'Yeah, keep out of it!' Gary scowled at her
ferociously, but he added, 'I've been kept busy – it's the
marching season.'

'Is that it?' Zee's tongue was loosened by the drink.
'That's your apology, is it?'

'Butt out,' said Gary. 'Something came up, that's all.'

Yeah, your fists, thought Zee but she said nothing.
Tasha seemed satisfied anyway and Zee watched her
arrange her face provocatively, lips pouting, eyes
narrowed. She had never seen that done before, not
outside a cinema anyway.

'If you promise to be a good boy,' said Tasha
temptingly, 'I might give you some of my wine.'

For a short time they were the most popular people on
the field. Then, with the wine finished and dusk beginning
to thicken, couples started to migrate towards the
long grass between the edge of the football pitch and the
big Co-op building.

Zee and Tasha stood beside the Co-op wall discussing
new films with some other girls. No one was interested
in the films, really. It was just something to talk about, a
cover for all the meaningful expressions and nudges that
were flying around. Everyone had their eye on someone.
Everyone, thought Zee, except her.

A group of boys, including Gary, stood nearby, their
voices frequently rising in laughter or obscenities.
Every few minutes, a boy would detach himself from
that group and wander casually over to theirs.

– 'Stuart was wondering if Karen wanted to go with
him.' –

There would be a long pause while Karen took advice
from the girls.

– 'His brain's tiny.' –

– 'Aye, it's even smaller than his other bits.' –

– 'In that case Stuart should be in the Guinness Book
of Records.' –

After shouts of laughter Karen would give her answer.
'Tell Stuart I'd rather go with his granda!'

Zee found it all a bit tedious but Tasha seemed to be
enjoying herself. As the evening wore on, people paired
off. In the end Tasha and Zee were the only girls left.
Worse still, Gary and Des were the only boys.

'Let's go,' said Zee anxiously. 'I've had enough.'

'Not yet.'

'I feel a bit light-headed, Tasha.'

'Don't you dare bottle out – Gary's coming over.'

'So is Des! Oh no . . . do you
really
want me to stay,
Tash?'

'Yes! Stick together – remember?'

'Okay, we'll meet round the other side of the Co-op at
a quarter to twelve. No later, mind. If I'm not in by
twelve I'll get grounded.'

Tasha glanced at her watch. 'But it's twenty past
eleven already.'

'Good, I've got Frankenstein's monster, remember?'

Gary and Des had drifted within earshot. Undeterred,
Des grinned at her.

'All right, Tasha?' asked Gary.

'Well, things could be better,' she said.

'Is that so, now? Fancy a wee walk?'

'That rather depends on Ruby,' said Tasha loudly. She
sounded drunk.

'Ruby?' He looked puzzled. 'Ruby Mason? She's
gone to a party.'

'So you're coming on to me now? Is that it?'

Gary laughed. 'Ruby's just a friend, Tash.'

'She wasn't always. She told me so herself.'

'Well, she is now.' Gary shifted his feet, shrugged,
grinned, and generally managed to make himself look
boyishly endearing.

Zee groaned. She had seen it all before with other
friends. Gary hardly had a sophisticated patter but he
always seemed to get the girl he wanted. Some of her
friends used to come to the house just to see Gary.

'How could you think there was any competition?' he
was saying now. 'Sure you're gorgeous.' Tasha turned
pink and he held out his hand. 'C'mon.'

'You okay, Zee?' asked Tasha.

'Sure,' she said but her stomach felt as if someone had
just pulled the plug out of it. She watched them pick
their way over the tussocky grass in the darkness and
heard Tasha laugh at some remark Gary made, then toss
her head backwards, all elegant and sophisticated.
Somehow it made Zee feel horribly inadequate.