Chapter Fifty Five: Sundaes

 

Sundaes

 

It was only a matter of time before Frank arrived in Ballybunion; in fact it was possible that he was already in the small seaside town, but Kay trusted the rhythms of her automatic physical and neural processes: Frank was so enormously traumatic to her in every respect that her system would react as soon as he approached both geographically and temporally. She would sense his presence in every cell before he entered the country, let alone North Kerry. She had set the bait in South East London and ever since she had been reeling him in. It was time to set the trap, and until her brush with death in the caves she had no idea what “the trap” was to be. Now she needed two things: a place rather like the betting shop in Brockley where she could disappear behind the anonymity of a function while she watched for Frank, and time to inspect and develop her killing floor.

It was a clear, warm day towards the end of August. The sight of the families queuing for ice-creams at a small café on the main street  made her heart empty at the thought of what she lacked; the vacuum that defined her identity; that which she had not, that which she was not.

I suppose that’s normal if your dad is a cannibal, she thought, and decided to celebrate her not-ness with an ice-cream cone. The obvious choice was raspberry ripple, since blood was the condiment of choice for the discerning cannibal, but the image of her father rocking and moaning in the straightjacket nullified her taste for sweet bright red veins in cream and she went for lemon sorbet.

“Well you are only the second person to buy this,” commented the woman in her 50s who was obviously the proprietor. I make all the ice-creams and I was asked to make a sorbet by a local, and apart from once he has never bothered to come down and buy one. Here, have an extra scoop!”

Kay bit gently into the now severely top-heavy cone. The cold and the citrus curled around each other and formed a snake of flavour, ice, emotion and intention which permeated every cell. She turned and surveyed the street through analytic eyes which had massive storage potential. This was her spot. Frank could not enter town and avoid detection here. She cast a glance at the staff: mostly girls who would be off to college soon. She was going nowhere in this game whether she were to win or lose.

“Hi, my name is Kay McNamara. I just moved here and need a job. If you need staff…”

“If I need staff? You are joking! As soon as college starts up I have to do it all on my own. Of course I need staff. Come in Monday to find out how we do things and you are hired. My name is Joanne, but you can call me Great One. That’s a joke by the way, I’m only a bit on the tubby side.”

“You look great to me. See you Monday,” replied Kay and walked with a lighter pace than usual down to the cliffs. She ran her tongue around the melting lemon sensation as she meditated upon the cave hidden under the tons of granite. A song kissed her memory…she would soon go down to her killing floor. She was cold, she was ready and life was very tasty.