Erotic Refugees Page 14

  Eoin stood up, relieved to a ridiculous extent that he was leaving the house for a while. “And the biscuits. Just, you know, take it easy—”

  “Why don't you count them?” Adrian suggested. “Or I know, let's just take them with us and lock them in the boot!”

  Eoin glared at him. “You're not much help.”

  “Well, it’s my job to torment, what can I say? Right then, let's get you into the car and I'll show you some of the ugly lumps that people have been busy blighting the landscape with around here. And”—he winked—“some fine countryside.”

  “So the sisters have been on your case then?”

  Eoin grunted in reply. He was sitting happily in the passenger’s seat, gazing out the window as the fields and hedges slid past. It really was so ridiculously lush in Ireland, an unruly explosion of plants and trees and grass everywhere you looked. It was always a pleasant surprise to rediscover it every time he came back.

  “Well they have nothing else to worry about. Jen's still pining after that Darren who's long gone, and Maura's Alex is about as controversial as a bowl of chicken soup.”

  “It's just, they won't shut up about it.”

  “And they won't either. But just ignore them, they'll have found something else to go on about the next time you're home. Somebody will have gotten a tattoo, or bought a parrot, or whatever else passes for excitement around here.”

  Adrian adjusted the rear-view mirror. They were driving along a small road with the sea flashing into and out of view to their right. The window was open a crack and the cool air breezed in past Eoin’s face carrying the barest whiff of ocean.

  Adrian nodded towards the dashboard. “Have a rummage in the glove compartment, there's a few items I brought along for the trip.”

  Eoin popped the little door and had a look inside, sincerely hoping that it was booze. His parents were both teetotallers, which was a shame because if any house needed some alcohol it was absolutely theirs. He pulled out a small black purse.

  “You mean this?”

  “Yeah, well, there is that, although I meant the bottle of rum. Of course, if you're into that instead, sure, fire away.”

  Eoin shook the bag. “And this is?”

  “Oh that’s just a bit of pot.”

  “Aha.” Eoin shook it again, not really having expected that answer. “Pot. Right. Isn't that, like, stupid and dangerous to have in a car?”

  Adrian reached down and shifted gear. “Don't worry, if we get caught, I'd just use the escape hatch. I never had the chance to try it out.”

  Eoin stiffened. “Escape hatch?”

  “Yup, right under your left foot. See that square in the rug? Just press down on it hard.”

  Eoin lifted both his feet as he studied the floor. It took a while to spot the hatch and when he did he stared at it with deep suspicion.

  Adrian nudged him. “Go on, it's only a hole.”

  It popped into Eoin's head that Rob usually gave similar advice only in a completely different context. He chuckled to himself and only returned his attention to the floor when he felt Adrian looking at him.

  “Right, so if I just stand on it…”

  It took a bit of pressure and the little hatch swung down. Eoin couldn't see the road passing underneath but he could hear a change in the car's vibration. He lifted his foot and it clamped shut again.

  “Anything you don't want goes out there and hopefully falls under the back wheel, getting nicely mangled. Or that's the theory anyway.”

  “So you made this because you smoke so much pot that you think you might actually be stopped by the cops?”

  “Nah, of course not, I just like making holes in things. But if you want some, go right ahead. I mean, I can't really smoke it while driving, but if you—”

  “No, I'll pass.”

  “It's only a bit of pot Eoin, it's not heroin cut with, um, heroin, or whatever the kids are into these days.”

  “No,” Eoin said again. “I won't give Jenny the smallest chance to mess things up for me. Because I know if I get into trouble for drugs, even a bit of pot, she'll try and take him from me. She's said she would, and I believe her, alright? So no, and you don't need to mention it again.”

  Adrian glanced at him and then back at the road. “Eoin, my dear brother, you really are full of crap sometimes. You think she'll really try to take the kid? Now she knows how much work it is being a single parent? And sure, she said lots of stuff when you broke up, but she was pissed at you! So don't be planning your life around that, is all I’m saying.”

  “But she's the mother, mothers always get the child—”

  “Yeah, if the dad's a raving drunk or a rapist, maybe. No offence, but you're uptight and dependable and a bit boring. You've got a stable job, and a flat, and you pay your bills and you feed the ducks and you haven't done any prison time. So despite what Jenny says, no-one is taking your kid. Got it?”

  Eoin nodded as he worked the floor hatch idly with his foot. It all sounded logical when somebody else said it but when it was bouncing around inside his own head, in his own voice, it never seemed quite as convincing.

  “Listen,” Adrian said as he turned the car onto a smaller road. “It'll all blow over and it'll all fade away. And one day it'll be gone and you'll wonder what you were worrying about when you could have been doing other stuff instead. Like getting laid. or smoking my pot.”

  “So what is this, your pot-smoking Buddhist phase? Look, just give me some rum, that'll do for me.”

  Adrian swung the Merc up a single-lane road. He made a sharp left and manoeuvred into a tiny parking area at the foot of a stony slope. They grabbed the rum bottle and the special pouch and opened the doors. When they stepped out the sound of the crashing sea was very loud and very close.

  They ventured to the edge where the ground broke into bare rock and fell horribly away. There was a metal fence in place but Eoin still left a good stride between him and the precipice. He stood on his toes to glimpse the water that pounded the cliffs hard enough, even on this calm day, to make the ground rumble. He swallowed and backed off.

  Adrian led the way along a small path that skirted the edge. After a while he swung off and climbed directly up the slope, leading the way to a shallow cave covered by a rocky overhang. There were no traces of humanity, not even an old crisp packet, and Eoin understood this wasn't a place people came to very often.

  They settled down with their backs to the rock wall. Their feet, stretched out before them, reached almost to the lip of the cave. From this high vantage point they couldn't see the cliff or the path below, only the sky and the Irish Sea on its way to the horizon.

  “I suppose a touch of this can't hurt,” Adrian said, pulling a joint from his little bag. “It's fairly mild anyway.” He lit it with his petrol lighter and sucked greedily. With a sigh he settled back against the rock as the yellow smoke curled from his lips.

  Eoin watched him for a while and then, without a word, reached out for the joint. He hadn't tasted marijuana for a long time and began to reacquaint himself with the feeling of having his head turn in two directions at once. He nodded in satisfaction and realised he should probably come to Ireland and hang out with Adrian, and his special bag, a bit more often.

  On their slow and cautious way back to the house they passed through Dundalk to pick up some shopping. Eoin took the opportunity to visit an Internet café. He was due a reply from Maria/Middle Mum and maybe something else had turned up in his mail, from Rob or Alice, or maybe even—oh the guilt—from Anja.

  He noticed the red information text on the start page as soon as he opened Diamond Date but didn't think to read it. There were always red texts appearing on the start page with words like “new” and “exciting” on them and Eoin just filtered them out. He logged in and immediately saw the pert little number 1 indicating a new message. He cracked his fingers gleefully, wondering who it was from, and moved the pointer to open it.

  Then his hand stopped and he stared at his pr
ofile. The smile leeched from his face. No, it couldn't be. He leaned closer, feeling everything become fuzzy and surreal. Shaking his head, he looked again and found it really was there.

  On his profile, directly beneath the “single status” option where Eoin had chosen “have own children” was a new drop-down box. It was circled in red to indicate its newness and it bore the words “ledig barnvecka”, or “child-free week”.

  Eoin gaped at it. He looked around to confirm that nobody was playing a trick on him, but there was only one other customer in the place and he was busy with something of his own. When he looked down again he saw it was still there.

  He edged the mouse towards the drop-down and clicked it, revealing the options “doesn't apply”, “odd week”, “even week” and “other”. He closed it and opened it a few times and then sat back in his seat, feeling deflated.

  They had, quite simply, been scooped. Somebody else had taken their idea and ran with it to Diamond Date, who had done it more simply and, more importantly, done it first. Which meant everything they'd created and planned was already swirling on its merry way down the toilet. All over before it had even begun.

  Chapter 21

  The second Eoin returned to Stockholm he called an emergency meeting of the project team. It was Damien who picked the location of the meeting and, in his wisdom, he chose “park an' big slide.” Eoin, having worked out by a process of elimination which park that was, duly called the meeting to order on a black and white chequered picnic blanket in the shade of a horse-chestnut tree.

  “Fucking bad timing, if you ask me,” Rob said as he rummaged through his picnic bag, which was plastic and contained mostly beer. Milly thrust a pity chicken drumstick at him. He shifted a can of beer into his left hand and took it with a grateful nod.

  “No, it was more than that,” Milly said. “It wasn't the world's best idea, but it was good enough, and it's too much of a coincidence that somebody else thought it up just now. I think one of us let it slip to somebody, who told somebody at Diamond Date. And they just took it.”

  “Nah,” Rob said. “No way, that's just … ye think?”

  Milly took a bite from her own drumstick and moved it in a slow thoughtful circle. “I don't know, but it gives us somebody to be angry at. So who did you tell?”

  “No-one who'd nick it. Eoin, told anyone?”

  “Well no, not unless Damien's been spreading it around at day-care. I'll ask him when he gets off the slide.” He paused. “I did tell Alice though.”

  “I shouldn't know this, I suppose,” Milly said, “since you haven't told me, and I’ve never met you before. But is this the same Alice you had some big fight with and now you're not talking to?”

  “Now hold on there,” Eoin said. “Of course it wasn't Alice that spread this around, I know her, she wouldn't—”

  “Like ye knew all about that thing with Andy, yeah?”

  Eoin was thoughtful. Would Alice do that, just for revenge? No, it felt wrong, not like Alice at all. Although maybe she'd changed, since it had been a painfully long time since they'd talked. He would really have to go sort it out soon. Or maybe just give her a little longer to come to him, and apologise, and do all the fixing for him. Which would, when he thought about it, be much, much handier.

  “Put it like this,” Eoin said. “I'm ninety percent sure it wasn't Alice. What about your friends, Andy and them? They heard the whole thing too.”

  “No, not the lads. They're a special bunch, but they'd never do that.”

  Eoin cracked open a baguette and sliced some Brie onto it. “Not even by accident?”

  “I bet if ye asked Eamonn about it today he wouldn't remember a damn thing. The rest of them, well, let's say it's like Alice, somewhere around ninety percent.”

  “And your sister?” Milly said. She drew her legs up and crossed them in front of her showing off her orange-spotted tights. “Can you trust her not to gossip about things?”

  “Well, no,” Rob said shiftily. “It's all a tad tricky with Karen now, so let's say I'm not hundred percent with her either. But who'd she tell in Sweden? And who the hell does she know at Diamond Date?”

  “A few suspects then,” Eoin said. “All of them a bit unconvincing. We might have to accept we won't ever find out who did it.”

  “What I'd like to know,” Rob said, “is how long they've known for? I mean, they must have been planning this for ages. Diamond Date's a huge site and you couldn’t make a change like that in a week or two. Hey Damo, lookin' good!”

  Damien was suddenly standing there holding both a ball and a Frisbee under his arm. He stuck his hand out. Eoin, making a judgement based on the child's state of sweatiness, handed him a plastic cup with diluted fruit juice. Off he went again, drinking as he ran.

  “Oh I doubt it took them long,” Milly said. “It's an easy addition as it's not connected to anything else on the site. One drop-down, a few database tables, a change to their search motor, and there you go. They could have it up in a day.”

  Eoin held up a thermos and looked inquiringly at the others. They nodded and he went about pouring coffee into some carefully balanced plastic cups. “Well now there's really no point in dissecting it, since it's done. Let's look forward and decide what to do next. Rob, you had a whole pile of other ideas, what was top of the list?”

  Rob took the coffee that Eoin handed him and grabbed a handful of biscuits and a few grapes. “Cheers. Well, Milly and me went through every idea I had, and a few of hers. We picked out one of my ideas and one of hers—”

  “Let me do mine Rob!” Milly tossed a grape into the air and opened her mouth wide but it just bounced off her nose. “So yeah. Mine was the haircut database.”

  Eoin was doubtful. “Right…”

  “No, wait, here me out, it's brilliant! You know when you get a haircut and it's not like you asked for, and all you can do is, well, nothing, because it's too late? Well I thought you could have a mobile app where you take photographs of haircuts you actually liked and then just show them to the hairdresser when you get your next cut. Then she can't say you haven't told her what you wanted, can she?”

  “Right,” Eoin said again, not really having experienced the wrong haircut problem. His own haircut rarely failed him.

  “And here's the great part,” Milly went on. “You can try out other haircuts by just dragging them onto your face. Other users will vote on what suits you best and chat about it and send pictures around and so on. A big blob of instant user content! Plus I can salvage the login part we have, and the database I just need to change a little. Rob's work is mostly wasted, although uploading of images shouldn't be—”

  “Wait, hold yer horses,” Rob said. “No-one’s heard my one yet! It's the code idea, did I tell ye that one Eoin? No? Alright, ye know how ye've got all these pin codes to remember for cash cards and things. Well, all we do is get the users to pick out ten questions that have numbers as answers—”

  “Personal questions,” Milly corrected him, “that only you would know, all with numerical answers—”

  “Yeah, and then we break down the code into a set of questions. Then ye save the questions on—”

  “Look, hang on, wait, I don't follow,” Eoin said. “I have no idea what you're saying. And if I don't get it, maybe nobody else will either. Go with the first one.”

  Rob frowned. “So what, the hair thing's better?”

  “Sure it's better!” Milly said. “And we'd get lots of straight females in, they love that kind of thing, or so I hear. And lots of females means a big chance to grab lots of advertising. Could be huge if we do it right.”

  “Maybe,” Rob said. “Let's do it and see where it gets us. We'll keep the colour scheme we have for the moment until we get a better idea of the content.”

  “But you'll tell Karen we switched ideas,” said Eoin. “So she can start thinking about the new layout.”

  “Um, yeah,” Rob said with a furtive look. “I'll do that, sure.”

  Eoin eyed
him suspiciously, wondering what he was hiding, because he was clearly hiding something. He was about to ask when he was distracted by somebody poking at the shoulder. He turned to see Damien standing behind him again.

  “What is it, young sir?”

  “Slide,” said the boy plaintively with his best puppy eyes. “Biiiig slide.”

  Eoin nodded. “Sure, in a minute, I just have to talk some more—”

  Damien positioned himself right in front of his father, blocking his view of the others. His mouth curled down in the sourest frown he could muster. “Slide,” he said in a tone that was terribly final.

  Eoin sighed. “Look, Damien—”

  “I'll take him up,” Milly said. “I wanted to try that slide anyway, it looks brilliant.”

  Eoin studied the steps that led up the slope to where the slide began. It was a long way, strewn with many leg-breaking, nettle-burning and eye-poking opportunities.

  “Thanks, but I doubt he'd go with somebody else—”

  “Slide!” Damien grabbed Milly's hand and hauled her to his feet. He didn't even glance back as the two of them raced towards the steps, yelping in delight. Eoin forced himself to look away and back to Rob.

  “So that's it then, we do Milly's haircut idea?”

  “It's not a bad idea,” Rob said. “It's just not, ye know—”

  “Not your idea,” Eoin said. He broke up the end of his baguette and tossed the fragments to a few sparrows that were pecking around near the tree. “Right, I know what you mean. I'm not exactly involved in this new one either.”

  “Chill Eoin, if this ever takes off we'll need somebody who knows the business side of it, and that sure as hell isn't me, or her over there. All that boring stuff with money and forms, there's still only one of us who can tackle that.”

  “Right,” Eoin said. “Boring stuff with forms. Well I'm glad I can be of some use.” He heard a yell and snapped his parenting searchlight in that direction. Milly and Damien had just disappeared into the mouth of the slide and were now screaming all the way down. They emerged at the bottom, Damien sitting on Milly's lap, and both of them cheering wildly. They turned around and charged back up the steps for another go without even pausing for breath.