Mr Right for the Night (11 page)

‘Really? I thought a guy like that would be anyone’s
type. He’s absolutely gorgeous.’

‘And he knows it,’ Anna was emphatic. ‘There’s
nothing quite as tragic as a man who thinks he’s

God’s gift.’

‘Well, let me have him then,’ Elaine pleaded.

‘Have him if you like,’ Anna tossed her hair
defiantly over her shoulder and hoped Elaine was
joking. ‘Sally won’t mind, I’m sure. She’s probably
used to it by now.’

Anna escaped work early for a change. It had been a
busy day with endless boxes of the Spring Collection
being delivered and deposited any old way in the
stockroom.

She left the store just after six and started the fortyminute
walk home. In the evening it was quicker
to walk than to bus it. The rain had abated and
dangerous pools of water lurked alongside the footpath.
She steered well clear of them. She wondered
if Claudine had gone home to Paris yet. The terrible
twosome had been nowhere to be seen for the rest
of the weekend, thank God! Steve would be sitting
alone in his flat with his alternative music. He’d be
feeling lonely. Well let him, Anna thought. There
was nothing she could do for him now.

The entire house was in darkness. She pushed the
f
ront door open and fumbled for the light switch.
As the hall lit up the phone rang.

‘Hello?’ Anna said, expecting it to be for one of
the others.

‘Ann?’

‘Anna, you mean?’

‘Oh right. Something spilled on my hand. I couldn’t
make it out.’

‘Who is this?’ Anna was baffled.

‘Rich.’

‘Who?’

‘From the other night, remember?’

‘You mean Rick?’

‘No Rich, short for Richard.’

‘Oh hi!’ She certainly hadn’t expected to hear
from him. God, this was . . . well, a pleasant surprise
really. When you met men in nightclubs you didn’t
automatically
expect them to ring. She wondered
what he’d seen in her. She’d been fairly langers when
they’d stumbled into each other. Not an amazing
start. She’d probably looked like a tart gone wrong.
In fact, oh God, it was all coming together now . . .
she hadn’t even bothered to wash her hair!

‘How are you keeping?’ He had a throaty voice.
A neutral accent. He was Irish most definitely but
she couldn’t figure out from which part exactly.

‘Fine.’ Anna tried to keep her voice level. She
didn’t want him to think she was excited about the
phone call or anything.
As if he was the only man who ever called
.

‘What are you up to?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, immediately regretting it.
How
could she let herself down like that? She was supposed
to be a woman with a jam-packed calendar.

‘Can I call round?’

God, he wasn’t a bit shy in coming forward,
was he? What could she say? She’d just gone and
admitted to having no plans made. ‘Where do you
live?’ he pushed.

She told him. She felt she had no choice.

It took Anna exactly fifteen minutes to scramble
speedily around the flat, shoving lone shoes and
socks under the bed, grabbing air freshener from the
bathroom and drenching the air with it. She emptied
the overflowing ashtray, cleaned two coffee cups and
checked to make sure the packet of Jaffa cakes was
still intact in the press.

What else? Oh yes, she grabbed three visible
books,
Mars and Venus on a Date
,
Mr Maybe
and
Amanda’s Wedding
and threw them in a nearby
press. No point giving him any daft ideas. There.
She was ready. She took a quick glance in the mirror.
Christ! This wouldn’t do at all. She slapped a generous
scoop of Flawless Finish on her face, painted
a pink mouth somewhere near her lips and sprayed
herself liberally with Miracle. The doorbell rang.

A shocking thought suddenly struck her. This
guy was a stranger. What if he was a murderer
or a raving nut head? Or an addict? A sex addict
maybe, oh God. T
he bell rang again. She couldn’t l
et him in. She couldn’t. How would she possibly
be able to explain it all later to the police as they
took fingerprints from her battered body and examined
her fingernails for traces of broken skin? The
door from the upstairs flat opened and suddenly
someone was running down the stairs, Grainne!
Thank God. At least it looked like her behind the
facemask.

‘Are you answering the door or what?’ Grainne
looked exasperated.

‘Yes . . . well . . . Would you ever do me a huge
favour?’

She explained her predicament. Grainne listened,
gobsmacked.

‘So you see, if you could just check in on us in
about fifteen minutes, say,’ Anna whispered excitedly.

‘Fifteen minutes might be too late.’ Grainne’s eyes
widened dramatically.

‘Right, ten. Thanks, Grainne.’

Anna shot downstairs and threw the door open.
‘Sorry I didn’t hear the door,’ she said breathlessly,
‘I had the TV on.’

He stood in the middle of the porch, combat-clad
legs slightly apart, hands stuck deep in his pockets.
He wore a navy fleece and a black cap. His eyes
were an earthy grey, his bone structure was even.
Anna thought he looked even better than he had in
the nightclub, which was good. Usually it was the
other way round.

‘Well? Can I come in?’ he looked slightly bemused.

‘Sure.’ Anna was quite pleased he’d come. Another
contestant for Victoria’s party! Perhaps he’d fare
better than the last one.

They went upstairs. ‘Sorry about the mess,’ Anna
said, thinking it was lucky he hadn’t called fifteen
minutes earlier.

‘It’s fine,’ he said nonchalantly, throwing himself
on the sofa and putting his feet up on her foot
stool.

‘Tea?’

‘Sure, milk and two. Got any biccies?’

‘Yep.’ Anna proudly handed him the Jaffa cakes.

‘Anything on the telly?’ Rich bent down and
picked up the remote.

‘I dunno,’ Anna said doubtfully, ‘I don’t really
watch it.’

‘Don’t you?’ Rich was amazed. He patted the
cushion beside him. ‘Sit down. Hey, tell you what,
gotta beer instead of the tea?’

‘Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else . . . like
go out, say?’

‘Nah, Monday nights in Dublin are crap.’

‘Right.’

‘So, what kind of beer do you have?’

‘Bud or Bud.’

‘I’ll have a Bud so,’ Rich laughed.

Anna laughed too although she wasn’t quite sure
why.

There was a loud rap on the door. Grainne was
bang on time. She barged into the room, immediately
clamping her eyes on Rich.

‘You’re . . .’ she blurted and stopped suddenly. ‘I
know you.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Rich gave a coy smile.

To give him credit, he stood up like a gentleman
to shake her hand.

‘Will you join us for a Bud?’ he offered.

‘Why not?’ Grainne plonked herself down on the
sofa beside him. ‘I’m always game for a Bud.’

Anna reluctantly retrieved three from the fridge.
She opened a bag of nuts too.

‘I know I know you from somewhere,’ Grainne
was adamant. ‘I never forget a face, D’ya ever go to
Copperface Jack’s?’

‘Nope.’ Rich was grinning almost abnormally.

‘Are you a friend of Sandra’s?’

Rich shook his head.

‘Marion’s?’

‘No.’

‘I give up so,’ Grainne admitted defeat. ‘What’s
on TV then?’

‘Nothing much,’ Rich was beginning to show signs
of restlessness.

‘We could watch
Mr Motivator
.’ Grainne gave
Anna an obvious wink. The joke was lost on Rich.
Thankfully.

‘I’ve
Reservoir Dogs
upstairs,’ Grainne said suddenly.

‘Deadly.’ Rich’s eyes lit up. ‘Go get it.’

Grainne put her beer on the floor and bounced
out of the room like a woman on a serious mission.
Anna sat down beside Rich.

‘What’ll we do?’

‘About what?’ Rich looked genuinely surprised.

‘You don’t seriously want to watch
Reservoir Dogs
, do you? We can just tell her we’ve changed
our minds when she comes back down.’

‘Why? What else would we be doing?’

Anna opened her mouth as if to say something and
shut it again.

‘Besides, Tarrantino is a genius,’ he added, as if
that made sense of everything.

Grainne was back. She popped the video in,
squeezed herself in between Anna and Rich and
retrieved her beer. ‘Sandra might pop down later,’
she said happily. ‘She says she’s doing nothing else.’

Great, Anna thought as she felt herself being
pushed against the armrest. Why don’t we ask the
lads downstairs while we’re at it? This was ridiculous.
It wasn’t a date at all. Did she not look attractive?
She should have worn something sexier. She
glanced down at her plain navy suit. Horrifyingly
unsexy. Shoot! He probably thought she dressed
like this
all
the time. And now that Grainne was
here there was no chance to change.

You’re a disaster, Anna Allstone, she told herself.
A complete and utter hazard. There should be warning
signs sent out about you. No wonder men don’t
stick around very long.

The three of them sat in silence. In fact, the only
audible sound (besides the actors in the video) was of
Rich and Grainne slurping their cans of beer. Anna
felt like reading the evening paper she’d bought on
the way home from work. And why wouldn’t she? It
wasn’t as if the others would even notice. Suddenly
Rich picked up the remote and pressed
pause
.

‘Where’s the loo?’

‘Just off the bedroom.’ Anna nodded in the right
direction.

‘Back in a sec.’ He disappeared.

‘He’s a bit of an all right,’ Grainne commented
when he was gone.

‘Do you think so?’ Anna wasn’t so convinced.

‘Sure. I’ve met him somewhere before though. His
face is awful familiar.’

‘Maybe he shifted one of your friends.’

‘That must be it,’ Grainne said cheerfully. ‘By the
way . . . you don’t mind me being here do you?’

‘Not at all,’ Anna said and nearly bit her tongue
off. Of
course
she minded. But what could she say?
That she and Rich had some catching up to do? That
they needed to spend some quality time together?
What a joke! Grainne knew the score. She’d be here
for the night.

Rich reappeared. The video started up again. The
beer drinking resumed.

Another knock on the door.

Sandra’s inquisitive face sprang from behind it. ‘I
heard there’s Bud going around here.’

‘You’ll have to sit on the floor,’ Grainne ordered.

‘Have my seat,’ Anna stood up without knowing
why.

‘Not at all,’ Sandra walked purposefully towards
the sofa. ‘Push over everybody.’

Another beer was fetched for Sandra. She made
herself comfy on the armrest. Whatever Sandra
thought, though, there was clearly not enough room
for them all.