Free Unti Lucy Black Novel #3 by Brian McGilloway Page B

“What’s not you?” she asked, nervously.
    â€œBeing controlled. Fiona’s partner is here.”
    Jenny looked across to where the man sat. Aware that he was the topic of conversation, he raised his Coke can in salute. Something about the man was vaguely familiar, but Lucy couldn’t place it. She ran the flat of her hand over her face to wipe the pool water from her eyes.
    â€œWanker,” Jenny spat. “What does he want? Apart from a good slap in the nuts.”
    â€œDon’t, Jenny. He’s my partner,” Fiona said. “There’s a reason I don’t visit.”
    â€œYeah,” Jenny retorted. “Because you’re not allowed.”
    â€œFuck!” Fiona cried. “You’re just as bad as him.” She pushed over to the edge of the pool, then, using the edge tiles, pulled herself from the water.
    â€œFiona,” Jenny said, moving to follow her.
    â€œLeave her a minute,” Lucy said. “Let me speak to her.”
    Lucy turned and lifted herself out of the water, too, then padded after Fiona into the changing room.
    It was empty inside. The girl had already gone into the shower and was angrily scrubbing at her hair.
    â€œLeave me alone,” she said, when she saw Lucy watching her.
    â€œAre you okay?”
    â€œI want to be left alone. No one leaves me alone. I can’t even have a bloody shower without . . . I just want to be alone,” she pleaded.
    â€œJenny’s just concerned about you,” Lucy said. “Try not to be angry at her.”
    â€œWhat has any of this to do with you? You’re not family.”
    Lucy shrugged. “I know. Family just nag at you and tell you what to do. Trust me, I know. You should meet my mother. I’m not going to tell you anything. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”
    Fiona stared at her. “I’m just fed up,” she stated. “I’m sick of ­people treating me like I’m weak. Vulnerable. Like I’m stupid.”
    â€œYou’re not stupid,” Lucy said. “Or weak.”
    â€œJenny was always like that. Ever since I met John, she’s been nagging at me. That’s why we don’t visit. He doesn’t like her.”
    â€œJust because he doesn’t like your sister shouldn’t stop you from seeing her.”
    â€œIt’s not . . . it’s complicated,” she echoed. “John likes being with me. He likes going with me wherever I go.”
    â€œEverywhere?”
    Fiona shrugged.
    â€œWhat if you want to go out with friends for the night?”
    â€œI, ah . . . I don’t . . .” She cleared her throat. “I don’t really have friends. My friends are his friends.”
    â€œWere they yours first or his?”
    Fiona stared at her. “I know what you’re doing. You’re the same as Jenny.”
    â€œJenny’s concerned for you, Fiona. She cares about you.”
    â€œSo does John.”
    Lucy waited a beat. “Did he tell you that before or after he split your lip?”
    The girl stared at her, the water running down her face, dripping from her chin onto the rise of her chest. Lucy noticed something at the curve of the top of her costume. She moved toward the girl, who backed away slightly.
    â€œI’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “You have a bruise showing on your chest.” The mark was still partially red at the center, purpling around the edges. It was no bigger than a ten pence piece; the tip of a finger. Lucy guessed there would be four corresponding concentric marks around it where John had gripped her. She worked hard to keep her tone even, so as not to betray the building anger she felt at the sight of the injury.
    Fiona glanced down, then tugged at the collar of the swimsuit, pulling it over where the upper edge of the bruise had shown.
    â€œI walked into the wardrobe door, at home,” she said, quickly.
    â€œYou know