‘Fair play to you, Anna.’
‘Thanks. I’m well rid of that eejit. Besides I’ve still
two more options for the party,’ she said wickedly.
‘In the form of Rich and Steve?’
‘Yeah . . . thing is, I don’t think either of them is
particularly suitable for Victoria’s party.’
‘So we’re back to square one,’ Claire said dryly.
‘I’m afraid so.’
Something occurred to Claire as soon as she put
the phone down. Did Simon know about Jake’s other
woman? And if he did, why hadn’t he said anything?
Did he think it was better for Anna not to know? Or
did he think ‘Good on ya, Jake, it’s well for some’?
She’d have to ask him when he got home. If he
did
come home of course.
She rang his mobile and cursed the voice that said,
‘Your call has been diverted. Please hold.’ What was
the point in having a mobile if you didn’t keep it
switched on? His office line was worth a try.
It rang out.
Well, feck him anyway.
He could starve tonight.
Sleep didn’t come easily. Andrew started to cry
and Claire rushed to the baby room to soothe him
back to sleep. She was wide awake after that. Her
throat was dry She tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen,
opened the fridge door and removed a two-litre
bottle of 7-Up. A half litre of vodka sat in the
middle of the fridge. It seemed to be pleading
drink me please
. Nah, Claire banged the door shut. Only
alcos drank alone. She thought of Simon getting
pissed somewhere with Jake. Who else was with
them? Perhaps Jake’s floozie had a friend? God, it
didn’t bear thinking about. She opened the fridge
door again and snatched the vodka. Sure, one drink
never killed anyone.
She poured a tiny bit. Added six cubes of ice, then
drowned the vodka with 7-Up. She brought the glass
to her lips. No, no good. She couldn’t even smell
the alcohol. She poured another bit. This measure
was more generous. She gulped some down and
winced as the fluid burned her throat. Heaven. She
ambled round the kitchen, drank some more vodka
and tried Simon’s mobile once again.
Your call has been . . .
‘Fuck off,’ she yelled, then rebuked herself
f
or shouting while her son slept upstairs.
She switched on the radio and danced angrily to
JJ72. When JJ72 switched to Steps she pulled out
the radio plug in disgust. As if she could dance
to something as cheesy as Steps. She found an old
ABBA tape lurking at the bottom of the CD holder.
That would do.
Her drink was finished, she noticed glumly. She’d
promised herself just the one. Oh well, promises were
meant to be broken. What would Anna think? Anna
always said Claire was as solid as a rock. But rocks
eroded over the years. She’d learned that in Geography.
She pictured her old Geography teacher’s
beady eyes, poodle perm and pursed lips, and gave
an involuntary shudder.
The phone rang, making her jump. She picked it
up slowly. ‘Hello?’
‘Claire?’
‘Simon?’
‘Claire, listen I tried to call you earlier but the
phone was engaged. I’m out with clients.’
‘Lucky them,’ Claire said dully.
‘It’s gone on longer than I expected, so it’s better
that I stay at Jake’s.’
‘I thought Jake already had company.’
‘Sorry? Are you still there, Claire? The line’s pretty
bad. Catch you later, okay honey?’
Claire hung up. He was drunk. He only ever called
her ‘honey’ when he was drunk. Why was he still
out drinking? He hadn’t always carried on like this.
Somebody must be influencing him. There was no
other reason. But who?
Claire poured herself another measure. Her head
was feeling deliciously dizzy now. What would her
mother make of all of this? ‘Be careful of men who’ve
never lived,’ she’d once said. ‘Because one day they’ll
snap and wonder what they’ve missed out on.’
That was it
, Claire gave a strangled cackle. Simon
was trying to catch up. He’d spent all his twenties
studying, going on courses and attending interviews.
He’d only had sex with one other girl, his other
long-term girlfriend. He’d rarely got out-of-his-face scuttered
drunk and had never smoked (cigarettes or
otherwise). He’d never jetted off to Tenerife on a bad
lads’ holiday – in fact, it suddenly dawned on Claire,
the only time he’d ever gone anyway mad was when
his exam results had come out. It all made sense now.
Simon hadn’t ever really
lived
. No wonder he was
showing the beginnings of a mid-life crisis.
Anna woke at ten on Th
ursday morning. She stretched
lazily like a cat in the bed, and then fell back against the mound of pillows.
Having a weekday
off was o
ne of the advantages of being in the retail business.
It meant you could browse around town without the Saturday afternoon crowds jostling you out of the way.
Anna wasn’t exactly what you’d cal
l a shopaholic. Two shopping
trips a year sufficed – one in the autumn and one in the sprin
g. She couldn’t bear crammed
dressing rooms with unforgiving bright mirrors and nauseating air-conditioning. It was horrible the way cheeky teenage shop assistants would yell, ‘Are you all right in there?’ as she fought to fasten the zip on the hipster jeans that hadn’t seemed so tiny on the hanger. Most of all she hated it when the assistants offered to fetch a
large
or an
extra large
just to be sure.
With a slap of foundation and a few tugs of the oul wig she was ready to face town. She grabbed her bag, ran down the stairs and danced down the path of the house. An angry black cloud stared at her. She was about to glare back but decided against it. If she were to pick a fight with the cloud, the cloud would win hands down. And Anna didn’t feel like getting soaked. A passing car threw a beep. The nerve! Anna fumed. It wasn’t as if she was dressed like a tart or anything. In fact in her green wax jacket and sensible cords she looked more like a farmer. ‘Pervert’, she muttered. The car jolted to a halt a few yards down the road. It was one of those new Saabs. A black one. She slowed her pace. Her heart began to beat faster. Suppose the owner of the car was trying to abduct her? Should she turn and run now while there was still time? A male head appeared out of the window.
‘Anna,’ it yelled, ‘would you ever hurry up and stop making me look like a bloody kerb-crawler?’
Relieved, Anna ran towards the car. Mark leaned over and opened the passenger door for her. He looked cute in a cream polo and chinos.
‘Why aren’t you at work?
Nice
car, by the way.’
‘I’m on two weeks’ leave. So you like her? Our eyes met across the showroom floor. She begged me to take her home.’
‘And as usual you couldn’t say no,’ Anna checked her reflection in the side mirror. ‘Mind you I can’t understand how anybody who lives in this city could spend money on a fast car. The traffic is hell.’
‘I see you’ve been back to those charm classes again. Really, I think you should take a break. You’re in danger of becoming too nice.’
‘Sorry,’ Anna smiled, ‘she really is a beauty. I’m just jealous. By the way I thought you were going away?’
‘I’m visiting a friend in London next week.’
‘A girlfriend?’
‘A friend who’s a girl, that’s right,’ he said cheekily.
‘And she doesn’t mind putting you up for a few nights, does she?’
‘She doesn’t have a problem with that, no.’
‘Fantastic,’ Anna said airily. ‘I suppose Sally’s too busy to mind.’
‘She doesn’t know.’
‘See? I always knew you were a bastard.’
‘It’s so unfair to call me that. It’s actually all off between Sally and myself.’
Anna sighed. Men like Mark were impossible.
‘Why the sigh?’ he pressed on. ‘Don’t you believe that somebody finally found the strength to give me the boot? Am I that irresistible?’
‘Piss off,’ she laughed.
‘Day off ?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Lunch?’
‘Um . . .’
‘Stop trying to think of a reason why you shouldn’t.’
‘I’ve had my lunch.’
‘A drink then?’
‘At this hour? Do you think I’m an alco or what?’
‘Tell you what, we’ll go for a walk.’
‘Nah, too cold.’
‘Cinema?’
Anna considered it. The idea kind of appealed to her. ‘You’re on’ she agreed.
Mark sighed with exaggeration. ‘You’re a tough one to please,’ he chuckled. ‘No wonder the student ran a mile.’
‘He’s back,’ Anna blurted out defensively.
‘Great,’ he indicated in a tone that wasn’t so great at all. ‘I’m pleased for you, Anna. Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.’
‘I’m pleased for me too,’ she replied tartly. ‘But don’t rush out buying me a wedding present. It’s not that serious. Yet.’
They drove in s
ilence out to the Ormonde com
plex.
‘How about
Bridget Jones’s Diary
?’
‘I’m easy,’ Anna shrugged.
Because it was afternoon, the cinema was half empty. They sat in the middle halfway up. Anna made herself comfortable. It was hard to imagine, Anna thought as they sat in the darkness, that it was the middle of the day. During the film she was very aware of Mark’s bare arm brushing against her own. She made no attempt to move away. And she was almost sorry when the credits rolled, telling people it was time to move on. Now there were no more excuses for accidentally catching Mark’s fingers as they both reached for the popcorn. The lights brightened, urging punters to leave and get on with their own mundane Irish lives. Anna sighed.
‘I don’t feel like going home now,’ Mark said suddenly, echoing her thoughts. ‘How about a drink in town?’
‘Too noisy,’ Anna proclaimed. ‘I’m too tired to stand in a crowded pub with a load of suits.’
‘Johnny Fox’s?’
‘Ah why not?’ Anna brightened. She hadn’t been up to that place in years. The highest pub in Ireland. If you couldn’t get away from it all up there, well there was no hope for you.
Mark started the engine. They zoomed off.
In Johnny Fox’s they settled in a cosy seat beside one of the log fires. A true gentleman, Mark took her jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. ‘What’ll you have?’
‘A Heineken will do me just fine.’ Anna pulled her chair closer to the warmth of the fire.
He came back with two pints, a Heineken and a pint of the black stuff for himself. ‘Well, this is nice.’ He sat down. ‘You’re impossible to nab for a drink.’
‘I just need a good bit of notice,’ Anna insisted.
‘I’m a busy woman, you know.’
‘I’ve learned my lesson you’ll be glad to hear. Next time I’ll give you plenty of notice.’
‘Well, I’ll need it. I’m going to be up to my eyes from now on . . . and Steve’s very possessive,’ she added just to annoy him.
But the look on his face didn’t give her much satisfaction and she felt guilty almost immediately. Why be nasty to those who were nicest to you?
What had Mark ever done wrong except flirt with her occasionally? It was hardly a crime. Yet for some bizarre reason she felt she had to keep up this ‘treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen’ attitude whenever he was around. He deserved it, though. He was a man after all. And an extremely good-looking one at that. She almost hated him for it.
‘So how is work going?’ He lifted his Guinness to his lips and sampled it thoughtfully.
‘Great,’ Anna tried to say cheerfully but Mark’s eyes seemed to question her. ‘Actually,’ she took a climb down, ‘things are pretty terrible.’
After some further probing, Anna gave in and admitted the whole nightmare situation with Elaine over the promotion. He listened carefully and gently squeezed her hand as
she told him about the break
down in communication between herself and Elaine.