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days would be horrendous, and, in the meantime, Mark wasn’t going to tell either Deidre or Ellen a thing until he was certain of the facts.

  14

Ellen

Ellen vaguely recalled mentioning Freddie to Mark, but why he had come up in the cringeworthy telephone call with her brother was a mystery. The memory fog worsened over the week, forming droplets of images and snippets of dialogue. Unable to fathom the workings of her own mind, on Friday, for the first time that week, she went running.

A warm weather front drifted over the city, drying out the puddles and sodden patches of grass. She sent a text to Nicky and arranged to meet him after work for a run at the Imperial War museum. They jogged around the small park, navigating a path between the shadows and the street lights. The evening air was bitterly cold and Ellen’s fingers thickened with numbness.

To compensate for the lack of communication with Mark she kept up a breathless and cheery banter with Nicky who ran as if he was on air; bouncing off the pavement while she lumbered from side to side.

‘So you're undecided about Mark still?’

‘I'm wary. We haven't talked since that night.’

‘Hardly surprising. You were pissed. Had your first blow job. Didn't enjoy it—’

‘Nicky!’ She checked around. ‘It wasn't even that, okay. I wish I’d never told you.’

She halted; bent over and pressing her hands onto her bent knees, she snatched a few extra breaths. That night remained hazy; she had woken in the morning confused and hungover, not quite remembering what she had said to her brother, probably something stupid given his reaction. Nicky called by and had done what Mark had failed to do and hugged her, dusted her down and told her she had been silly and not to worry. She should concentrate on work and, from now on, she was only to run with him.

Nicky jogged on the spot. ‘Then it's water under the bridge.’

Standing up straight, she flicked her hair out of her eyes. ‘It doesn't feel like it. I got drunk after we’d done it and I told him to leave. Thank God, he did. He was fine about it. For a while I felt...’

Nicky stilled. ‘What?’

‘Elated. Thrilled. Then the alcohol kicked in and I started crying.’ She cringed, wishing she could huddle under the branches of a tree and pretend her voice wasn't carrying in the wind. Jogging in the open with a shameless Nicky wasn't such a great idea.

‘Sex can do that.’

She scowled and Nicky’s grin disintegrated. She leaned toward him.

‘It wasn't sex. I had my knickers on the whole time,’ she said quietly.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. ‘Good. Keep them on. Now, what about Mark?’

‘I guess I owe him an apology. Dragging him out of bed to listen to me bawl.’

‘He tried, I suppose, give him credit. He doesn't sound like the kind of person who deals with women often. Unmarried? No girlfriend?’

‘Possibly. He's kind of secretive.’

They started jogging again. ‘He probably needs a good lay then.’ Nicky smirked out of the side of his mouth.

She stumbled over a kerb and nearly lost her balance. ‘Oh, please, Nicky. Why bring that up? Is it always about having sex?’

‘No, it's not,’ he said. ‘I'm getting it, so it's not an issue. It's people who don't get it who have the issue. I'm telling you, the world would be a better place if it lost all this inhibition about sex. It's fun. Relaxing.’

‘If you know what you're doing,’ Ellen muttered. Freddie would argue it was exactly the opposite. Less time thinking about it or doing it cleansed the soul, and so on.

Nicky suddenly flagged. ‘I’m done. Need a drink. The Red Lion is around the corner. Fancy a drink?’

They dropped down to a walking pace and headed towards the street. ‘Is it a gay pub?’ she asked.

‘Gays are everywhere, so probably. Bikers are, too. You should get to know a few.’ He winked and she laughed.

The pub was warm, and her hands tingled as the blood rushed back around them. Topics came and went, his work, hers and Nicky’s new boyfriend. The coupling seemed serious and Nicky went coy every time she mentioned the other man. Ellen stared at the small amount of liquid at the bottom of the pint. Life was changing, Nicky would replace her with his new-found love and she would see him less and less. Everyone had their lives to live and perhaps it was time to move on.

She would call Mark about living with him, but not yet. Let the decision sit for a couple more weeks.

As for Freddie, it had become a weird necessity to confess things to him and although she despised herself for needing him, she couldn't help it, so she would tell him about the man who had dropped his trousers.

Faceless Freddie had no presence in her life beyond his online persona. It didn’t matter because there was something appealing about having a long-distance friend, even one that sermonised. It gave her a little buzz knowing she had a hold over him, just as the cuts had done years ago.

I'm kneeling on the floor ready to confess.

She meant it as a joke. However, she was on a beanbag.

Confess what?

She spelt it out. From beginning to end. The horror and awe of watching a man lower his pants. Her fascination with it. Her shame that it thrilled her.

She expected a slapped wrist.

You had a near miss. Move on. She had no time to assimilate the dismissal; Freddie was typing fast. We really should meet up.

His proposal was nothing short of a bombshell. Her heartbeats raced and her fingers danced, slipping over the keys. Where?

Come to Dublin. Spend a few days here.

Why?

I've

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