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At that time—two decades earlier—Marcus Leavy was dating a girl, Majella Skelly, with whom he was far from enamoured. His reason: her friend, the aforementioned, Claribel Barrington.

Claribel was from the school of high sublime: pronounced cheekbones, a tall, slender frame and a face that could easily grace the cover of any of the world’s top fashion magazines. By contrast, Majella was plainer than a Rich Tea biscuit; her wit duller than the leftovers from last night’s dinner; though, it must be said, her body was taut as a gymnast’s and eminently pleasurable for Marcus to ravage. He was twenty-five at the time and in need of daily lovemaking.

The thing was, though, the girls were inseparable. You never got one without the other. Therefore, Marcus was happy enough to play the role of Majella’s beau, affording him as it did his daily contact with the sublime Claribel.

He had first met the pair at a party one night in a crumbling old house off the East Circular Road, Bludgeon city. When Marcus arrived, the place was a scene of utter debauchery—like something from a Channel 4 teen soap. In the hallway on the way to the bathroom, tripping over linked bodies (groping and tonguing with élan), a stoned Marcus met an equally high Majella and Claribel. The giggling girls were returning to the living room for more of the drink and drugs so freely available—if a girl only smiled in the right way at the right guy.

It was love at first sight for Marcus; Claribel, glowing from coke and alcopops, was a picture of divine attractiveness. Majella, too, it must be said didn’t look half bad in the dim light of the hallway. The three fell into conversation, laughter, playful touching— extremely flirtatious interaction. Marcus was enormous fun when he was high, all coruscating wit and effortless charm; both girls were smitten; Majella more so.

That particular night ended with Majella and Marcus in bed together and a bored-looking Claribel watching from a chair in the corner whilst slowly filing her fingernails.

Then, the trio became a regular fixture around the suburb. A sight for particularly sore eyes on those days when they got blotto in the girls’ flat and took to the streets loafing and making mischief in their chemically induced haze. In point of fact, the girls’ flat became their regular hangout, offering them far more space than Marcus’s grimy bedsit in the next street. From Leavy’s point of view, the sleeping arrangements at the flat were quite satisfactory. They afforded him a proximity to dear Claribel on whom he had, at this stage, developed an intense crush. At any opportunity he got, he would let Claribel know the strength of his feeling. She, however, made it clear to him that theirs would be a purely platonic relationship. “I don’t want to get involved with you in that way, Marcus,” she said. “But I like you as a friend. And, anyway, Majella’s mad about you. It would hurt her too much.”

Marcus didn’t swallow what she told him and was confident that in time he could win her heart. When that happened, he—the cad!—would be more than happy to ditch Majella and take up with Claribel. All Ms. Barrington had to do was to give him the nod. 

Ó Brian Ahern 2012