Mr Right for the Night (40 page)

Running  away  from  it all? Running  away  from
what
? It’s not like she was leaving a hectic, fulfilled existence  behind.   Nobody would  miss  her.  Anna wasn’t feeling sorry for herself, she was simply being realistic. People  usually  didn’t  make  it in business unless they travelled.

Ireland was way too small. Just a tiny dot on the map  really.  In fact,  most  people  in the  world  had never even heard  of Ireland.

Anna  wondered  if  she’d  become  one  of  those non-resident Irish people  who  counted  the days till Christmas to come home and have the maddest  time ever, only to return to Britain at the start of a gloomy January,  all depressed  again.  Because people  who lived abroad and only came back once or twice a year constantly  lived  with  the  tourist-book impression  of  Ireland.   Because  they  didn’t  stick  around  for
the gloomy  part,  the post-Christmas months  when people didn’t go out at all. Because it was either too cold or wet or because  you knew  you wouldn’t  be able to get a taxi home.

Anna would  join them now. The first thing she’d do  in London  was  find an  Irish  pub  and  sit there moping over a glass of Guinness, singing ‘The Green Green Grass of Home’.  Well, maybe  not.  Actually, definitely not.  She was going to make sure her new life was a huge success.

‘No,  I’m not  running   away,’  Anna  assured  her friend. ‘I’m being sent there, remember?’

‘Well, I’ll definitely come over and  we’ll go on a mad shopping  spree,’ Claire enthused.

‘Definitely,’ Anna said, realizing that  Claire  must have absolutely  no idea how  hard  a store  manager worked.  Weekend  shopping  sprees? In her dreams!

‘And you  won’t  be too  lonely,  will you?’ asked Claire, knowing that personally she’d rather die than head off to a big unfriendly  city like London.

‘Not  at all. Anyway,  Roger’s over there  if I ever need to see a member  of my family in a hurry.’

‘Oh,  that’s  right,’  Cla
ire  said,  suddenly  remem
bering  that  Anna  had  a brother somewhere.  ‘Your parents  will probably visit you both  so, you know, killing two birds and all that.’

‘Try stopping  them.’

‘And what  about  Mark?’

‘What about  him?’

‘Have you been in contact?’

‘Of course  not,  Mark  and  myself are  no  longer friends. That’s the way I want  it.’

‘I still think  you two should  clear the air.’

‘Forget it, Claire.  Mark  had his chance.’

‘Did  he?’  Claire  sounded   doubtful. ‘Anna,  you never gave him anything  but abuse.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You were always going on about  other  men and stuff and going on about him just being a friend, you know?’

‘Is that  a crime?’

‘No, but you shouldn’t  have freaked out when he more or less played you at your own game.’

‘Yeah well, I prob
ably overreacted,’  Anna admit
ted. ‘But there’s no way I’m ringing to apologize. No flippin’ way.’

Eventually Claire got off the phone  after a tearful goodbye. Anna thanked God she wasn’t as emotional as Claire. Life wouldn’t be worth  living if everything was  that traumatic. It was  good  Claire  was  going back to work, though, even if it was part time. She’d probably become semi-normal again. Anna slumped down  in  front  of 
Corrie
  and  opened  a  packet  of chocolate  fingers.

The phone  rang.  Ah Jesus,  who  was  that  now? People should  know  not  to ring during 
Coronation Street
. It was just so rude. Well, she wouldn’t answer it. Sure, it was probably just her mother  wondering had she packed  yet. She could always ring back.

It rang and rang and rang.

All right,  all right,  hold your horses,  I’m coming. Anna dragged herself off the couch. God, her mother could be so impatient sometimes.

‘Hello?’

‘Anna?’

It was a male voice. Anna felt a bolt of electricity shoot right  through her.  Oh  Gawd,  who  the  hell was this?

‘Ye . . . es?’

‘It’s Mark.’

Mark!  Jesus.  Anna  stared  dizzily  at  the  phone. He  had  some  neck  ringing  her  after  all  that  had happened. Had  he heard  about  the party  from hell? Was he ringing  to offer his condolences. A million and one things shot through her head.  Why had he suddenly decided to ring her?

To  wish  her  luck  with  the  rest  of  her  life? To apologize  for pretending  he fancied  her for over a decade?  Well, he could  go to hell as far as she was concerned.

‘Hi Mark,  it’s good  to hear  from  you,’ she said stiffly.

‘And it’s nice to  hear  you  too,’  he returned the compliment.

And suddenly it dawned on her. Mark was ringing with his fond farewells. He wanted  to wish her luck with the rest of her life. That was it, of course it was.

‘You’re off soon,  I hear.’

‘That’s right,’ she tried  to sound  upbeat.  She felt herself struggling  like a fly in a web.

‘Any chance of catching  you before you go?’

‘It’s highly unlikely, I leave Monday.’

‘Will you be around Sunday?’

‘As it happens,  I’ll be at my parents  Sunday night. It’ll be like The Last Supper,  knowing  them.’

‘I’ll call around so,’ Mark said, obviously ignoring the fact that  she hadn’t  invited  him. ‘See you then, I’ll look forward to it.’

But  I won’t
,  Anna  thought as she twiddled  the phone wire.  The last
thing  she wanted  was a part
ing  chat  with  Mark.   She hadn’t  forgiven  him  for insulting  her over the whole  reunion  thing.  In fact she didn’t think she’d ever forgive him. He couldn’t go on  pretending  everything  was all right  between them.  She’d called him a prick  the last time they’d met.  Oh  God,  it was humiliating. ‘Actually, Mark,  I  don’t  think   it’s  a  great  idea,’  she  said  with  a calmness she didn’t  feel. ‘I’ve just got far too  much to organize for tomorrow. But I’ll send you an e-mail from London, okay?’

‘Right, if that’s  what  you want,’  Mark  said very quietly.  ‘Well . . . good luck, Anna.’

Good luck? Anna stared at the dead phone.
Good luck?
She sat  down  on the  bottom stair  and  burst into tears.

So that  was it. She was finally leaving the country. Anna sat  in  the  kitchen  of  her  family  home  and tucked  into  the vegetarian  lasagne  her mother  had baked especially.

‘Of course, you’ll only be a phone call away,’ Mrs
Allstone said encouragingly.

‘And half of Ireland’s  living in England  anyway, you’re  bound   to  bump   into  some  of  them,’  her father added.

‘I doubt  it, England’s not the type of place where you’d easily make friends.’

‘Nonsense,’  her dad
  said firmly. ‘With your  per
sonality, Anna,  you’re  bound  to  meet  like-minded people.’

‘I remember  my brother Eamonn went to England,’ Grandad said distantly.  ‘He never came back.’

‘It was different in those days though,’ Mrs Allstone interjected  quickly.  ‘England’s less than  an hour  by plane, isn’t that  right,  Anna?’

‘That’s right.’

God,  would  they ever stop  fussing over her like
this? It was making her all emotional. She was going to England, no big deal about  it. Anna was a big girl now. She wasn’t going to end up on the streets with no money, selling her body for drugs and living out of a cardboard box. This was simply a career move, not  some huge  drama. Anyway,  why did everyone think  she’d  be  lonely and  down  in  the  dumps  in London? That  wasn’t  Anna  at all. Didn’t  anybody  really know  her at all? London  was a cool place to live. Even Madonna lived there and she could afford to live anywhere.  And Robbie  Williams.  And Geri Halliwell  and  all  those  really  cool  funky  people. Anna couldn’t
wait
to join them all over in London. She’d have to get a good  map  and  find out exactly where the Met Bar and the Ivy restaurant were. God, it was going to be so much fun!

‘Passport?’

‘Yes.’

‘Money?’

‘Yes.’

‘Contact  lens solution?’

‘Er . . . I think  so.’

‘First-class ticket?’

‘Oh God, Mum, you’re such a snob,’ Anna laughed.

‘Don’t worry,  I’ve got everything  packed.’

‘Are you sure now you don’t want us to drive you to the airport?’  Anna’s mother  had tears in her eyes.

‘No,  Mum,  the  bus  stop  is fine, it’ll be quicker with the bus lanes and all.’

‘You’ll write?’

‘I’ll phone,’  Anna laughed,  ‘Anyway I’ll be home the weekend  after  nex
t  for Andrew’s  second  birth
day. I’ll see you then.’

‘Take  care,  Anna,  we’ll see you  in two  weeks,’ Anna’s Dad was a lot more practical.

At Donnybrook, the bus came along and as Anna paid her fare she heard  a voice shout  out ‘Anna’.

She swung around. ‘Nice one.’ Her dad clicked on the camera.  Thank 
God
she hadn’t let them take her all the way to the airport!

‘Window or aisle?’ T
he nicely made-up  ground host
ess processed  her ticket.

‘Oh,  the  aisle  is fine,’ Anna  smiled.  She wasn’t going  to  be childish  now  and  ask  for  a seat  with a view.

‘Your flight will be boarding from Boarding  Area B, Gate 26,’ the girl smiled back. ‘Enjoy your flight.’ Anna skipped into Hughes & Hughes to buy a few rag mags to pass the time, but  then decided  to buy
The Times
(well, she really
had
to look the part). She also bought  the latest Robyn Sisman before she left. Well, that  was all. She might as well try to find her boarding gate. There was a queue of people waiting to go through security  and people  were clinging to each other exchanging  tearful farewells. Thank  God she hadn’t  let the  folks  come  along,  she reminded  herself  for the  fiftieth  time.  She  was  about  to  join the  queue  when  suddenly  she  remembered   that  –
hurrah
– she’d a business ticket that  allowed  her to fast track  past the plebs. Brilliant idea.

She headed  for the security belt.

‘Anna, ANNNAAAAA!’

She froze. Jesus, that voice. She turned. Slowly. As did everybody  else.

Mark.  Yes, oh Christ,  it
was
Mark,  on his knees.
‘Anna, don’t  leave me. Don’t  get on that  plane.  All is forgiven,’ he cried mockingly.

People began  to titter.  One  man had to cover his mouth to smother uncontrollable laughter. 
This is so SO not funny
,  Anna winced. She felt like a complete twat standing there with her briefcase and
The Times
tucked under her arm, with Mark making two goons out of the pair of them.

‘Get up,’ she hissed, her cheeks crimson.

‘Oh ma Gad that’s so romantic,’ said an enormous woman  wearing  a
Guinness  is good for you
cap.

Someone  took  a photo. And  it wasn’t  even her dad.

‘I’ll call security,  Mark,  I swear,’ Anna  said,  but the only security man she could see was laughing his head off. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this.’

‘Have you forgiven me for the other  thing?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well then, I’ve nothing  to lose.’

‘Please get  up,’  Anna  begged,  ‘you’re  making  a show of me.’

‘Only if you promise  me something.’

‘What?’

‘Well, there’s this reunion the lads are having. Will you come? As a friend?’

‘No.’

‘As a girlfriend?’

Her heart  bungee-jumped. ‘Oh yes.’
Oh  hang on, Anna,  calm down.  Say something witty.
  ‘Just don’t expect me to hold your hand.’

Mark  got to his feet and gave a small bow to the crowd,  no  longer  crying  and  hugging  their  loved ones.

‘Are they getting married, Mommy?’  a small boy asked the large lady with the
Guinness
cap.

‘No, honey,’  she sighed.  ‘That  kinda  thing  only happens  in movies.’

‘I’ll kill you,’ Anna  told  Mark  as he brushed  the dirt off his knees.

‘Well, it’s better  tha
n  ignoring  me,’ Mark  admit
ted.

‘How  did  you  know   what  time  I  was  coming out here?’

‘Claire.’

‘Claire!  I’ll kill  her.  What  else  was  she  saying to you?’

‘Oh,  you  know,   how  much  you  loved  me  and all that.’

‘She what?’

‘Only messing.’

‘Mark?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’ve just thought of something.’