Darkhouse. Alex Barclay

Siobhán,’ he said flatly.

      ‘G.L.A.A.S,’ she said.

      They all laughed.

      ‘G.L.A.S.S.,’ he said. ‘As in ass.’

      ‘That’s just ’cos I was writing too quickly,’ she said, blushing. She went back to the counter.

      ‘As in big fat ass,’ the boy whispered, loud enough for everyone.

      The waitress stopped when she saw Duke. ‘Hiya,’ she said, awkward and eager. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

      She poured juice for the boy, then squeezed back behind the counter.

      ‘Now. What can I get you?’ she said.

      ‘Could I get a beef taco and Coke?’ Duke said, smiling as he looked into her eyes. He squinted at her name tag: Siobhán. ‘Sy-o-ban? Is that your name?’ he asked.

      She laughed. ‘It’s pronounced Shiv-awn,’ she said. ‘It’s Irish.’

      He smiled again. ‘Savawn? That’s not easy to say.’

      She disappeared into the back room and Duke sat listening to the anxious conversation behind him.

      ‘That’s not your mum,’ said one of the boys.

      ‘It is,’ said one of the girls, ducking her head under the table.

      ‘Even if it was, she wouldn’t be able to see in,’ he said. ‘I’m waving at her right now.’

      ‘Stop it! She’ll see!’ she pleaded.

      ‘For fuck’s sake,’ he said, ‘you’re totally paranoid. There’s no point in going on the hop if you’re going to be freaking out.’

      ‘Is she gone?’

      ‘Yes, seeing that she was never there in the first place.’

      ‘It’s all right for you. I’m on report,’ she said, sitting back up. ‘Which means,’ she continued dramatically, ‘I get expelled if I’m caught missing school one more time.’

      ‘Well, I’m missing a major biology exam,’ said the boy, ‘and unless I have a pretty good story, I’m fucked too. I’ll be sent down to the lowest class. With the dopes.’

      ‘I’m only missing double music and a double free class,’ smiled the second girl. ‘And Mr Nolan can be worked on,’ she said. They all laughed.

      Siobhán arrived with some fries, desperately trying to involve herself in their conversation. She was quickly back with Duke, her eyes down, rejected again by a cruel, casual remark.

      ‘People are idiots,’ said Duke.

      She smiled. ‘Ah, they’re OK,’ she said, glancing back over at them.

      ‘You know? You’ve a really beautiful smile,’ he said.

      She blushed. ‘Yeah, right.’

      ‘You do,’ he said. ‘Just thought I’d tell you. No big deal.’

      She was called away again, but Duke stayed at the counter, talking to her every time she was free. He was the only person there when she closed up the restaurant two hours later, standing with her on the pavement as she snapped the lock on the shutters. When she was finished, she waited anxiously.

      ‘Come with me,’ said Duke, holding out his hand. She took it and smiled.

      Anna stood outside the lighthouse with Ray, Hugh and Mark, the landscape gardener.

      ‘Here’s what we’re dealing with, guys,’ she said, handing them white masks. ‘There are layers of paint on these walls with rust underneath. We need to strip it all back to the bare metal, so we can preserve it and then paint over it properly.’

      Mark started to speak.

      ‘Before you say anything, Mark, no, we couldn’t just scrape it off.’

      He smiled and ran his hand through his wild blond hair.

      ‘I don’t even know why I bother,’ he said. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea what I’m doing. You should have left me on the lawn.’

      ‘Well, I appreciate this,’ she said. ‘You’ve no idea.’

      ‘Many hands and all the rest of it,’ he said.

      She went on, ‘So what you need to do is put this stuff on with a trowel and cover it with this paper. Once we get that done, we can leave it for a few days. It should sweat the old paint off. Then we can see the real damage, see if any of the panels have to be replaced. So that’s it. Oh, and cover the floor with newspaper before you start.’

      The wind whipped around Mountcannon harbour, rocking boats and tugging at sails. The concrete walkway thirty feet above was deserted except for Katie, who stood swaying in the wind, her hands buried in the pockets of her pink hoodie. She turned her back to the boats and looked out to the ocean, lit in flashes by the sweeping beam from the lighthouse on the opposite headland.

      ‘This place still freaks me out,’ said Shaun, coming up behind her, pointing at the six-foot wide walkway that had no railing for its entire length. ‘I mean, your choice here is flaying your ass on a rusty skip then suffocating to death in a pile of rotting nets or,’ he looked down on the other side, ‘crashing onto some huge rocks and drowning.’

      ‘It’s like – which would you rather die in, a barrel of pus or a barrel of scabs?’ said Katie.

      ‘What?’ said Shaun.

      ‘It was one of my granddad’s favourites,’ said Katie. ‘I’d probably go for the scabs.’

      ‘Which sounds like a good idea, until they’re scratching at the inside of your throat, then you’re inhaling them into your lungs …’

      Katie shook her head. ‘Ew.’

      Shaun pulled her into his arms, pressing her head against his chest, squeezing her close. She looked up at him and he knew how she felt.

      ‘I still can’t believe you asked me out,’ she said.

      ‘What? Why? You’re a babe. Why wouldn’t I ask you out?’

      ‘I am not a babe,’ she said, hitting him. ‘It’s just that you arrived looking like … like a big American footballer or something, with your perfect teeth and we all thought that none of us would have a hope. I just think it’s weird that here I am.’

      ‘You’re crazy. You’re really beautiful. You make me laugh, you’re smart, you’re cute—’

      ‘Aw, that’s so nice.’

      ‘It’s not nice, it’s true.’

      He took her hand and they moved against the wind back down the steps. They walked along the harbour, then past the sweaty windows of Danaher’s and up a winding road behind a short row of shops. They stood at the sign for Seascapes Holiday Homes.

      Straight ahead was an empty tree-lined dead end. To the left, the road sloped steeply into a second, larger cul-de-sac, where fifteen four-bedroom holiday homes faced out towards the border of trees. Lights were on in three of the houses, each of them close to the entrance. Shaun’s boss, Betty Shanley, lived in the first one, but she was out of town for the night. Shaun and Katie took a right, running along the trees and down the slope, glancing around quickly before Shaun slipped the key into the door of the last house, number fifteen, and they both fell into the hallway, laughing.

      ‘I put the heating on earlier,’ said Shaun.

      ‘Yeah, I can smell it,’ said Katie, wrinkling her nose at the stale air from the storage heaters.

      ‘Would you rather freeze your ass off?’ asked Shaun.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Do you feel a bit guilty?’ he asked.