Page 18 of The Last Love Song
‘He...he’s a friend. I see him when I walk on the beach sometimes.’
Helen swallowed hard before speaking. ‘Do you always let your friends kiss you?’
‘I...’ Sorcha studied Helen’s pallid face. Her eyes kept darting around Sorcha’s bedroom, as if she was terribly nervous. ‘You have it wrong, Helen, really you do.’
‘I’ve seen you before, Sorcha, at night once. You were definitely kissing Con Daly.’ Helen plucked up the courage to meet Sorcha’s gaze. ‘I heard you laugh.’
Sorcha pulled out the chair from her desk and sank down into it.
‘So, Helen, you’ve seen me. Will you tell?’
‘I don’t see any reason why I should.’ Sorcha didn’t believe her. ‘So, tell me all about it. Are you in love?’
Sorcha bit her lip. ‘Helen, you swear you won’t tell? No one knows, not even Maureen.’
Helen nodded. ‘If you trust me, I swear I won’t.’
It looked like Sorcha had no choice and, besides, she was bursting to tell someone. ‘All right then.’
Sorcha stood up and opened her bedroom door to check no one was lurking on the landing outside, then sat down on the bed next to Helen.
‘There’s not much to say, really. I love Con Daly and he loves me.’
Helen sat in contemplation. ‘Will you marry him?’
‘One day, yes.’
‘He wants to leave Ballymore. Will you go with him?’
Sorcha looked surprised. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Oh, Con and I talk sometimes,’ she said coolly. ‘Don’t you worry that one day you’ll go to his hut and he’ll be gone?’
‘No. He understands that I can’t leave Ballymore at the moment. He’s going to go to Dublin and get a record deal and then my daddy will see that he can take care of me.’ She knew she was saying too much, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘He must really love you to stay.’ The back of Helen’s eyes began to sting with tears. She fought them, hard.
‘Yes. Butplease, Helen, if Mammy and Daddy knew any of this now, then...’ Her voice trailed off.
Helen stared at her for longer than was comfortable. ‘I’m good at keeping secrets when I want to. Do you think Con will make it?’
‘Oh yes. He has a fierce good voice, Helen. And he writes all his own songs.’
‘What if your parents find out?’
‘They’ll rant and rave but I’m nearly seventeen. One day I hope that Con will become famous and make lots of money and we can come back to Ballymore and everyone will be pleased to know us.’
Sorcha sounded out of breath. Helen realised she wasn’t as confident as she seemed.
There was a knock at the door. ‘Seamus is ready to drive you home, Helen.’
‘I’m coming, Mary.’ Helen stood up.
‘You swear you won’t say anything?’ Sorcha pleaded.
Helen gave her a half-smile. ‘I swear.’
Sorcha eyed her. ‘If you did, Helen McCarthy, God forgive me, I think I’d kill you.’
