Mr Right for the Night (20 page)

‘That’s a pity, she seemed like a nice girl,’ Mark commiserated.

‘She is,’ Anna  gratefully  accepted   his  man-size Kleenex, ‘that’s the whole point.’

‘Success has its price,’ he continued thoughtfully.

‘Take for example  the lads  I used to hang  around with  in  UCD  –  you  remember   most  of  the  lads, don’t you?’

Anna nodded.  How could she forget? Herself and Claire had snogged most of them.

‘Anyway, I thought we were like this huge inseparable gang bonded by a love of rugby,  women  and booze.  In college we were all pretty  much the same –  you  know,   busy  sending  off  vanloads   of  CVs and  turning  up  to  open  days  in suits.  Some of us thought  this was all hilarious,  spinning  around on the  merry-go-milkround. But some  people  took  it all very seriously.’ His face clouded.

Anna eyed him over the rim of her beer glass and pretended to herself that she didn’t know how good looking  he was.

‘Everything changed after college.’ He paused and drained  his Guinness.  ‘I saw my friends  turn  from fun-loving  party  animals  into  competitive  freaks.  I reckon  some  of  my  office  colleagues  would  happily bring  their  sleeping bags into  the office if they thought there  was a promotion in it for them.’  He shrugged. ‘The Celtic Tiger for you, eh?’

‘Unbelievable.’  Anna  shook  her  head  and  wondered  if she should  order  another drink  in case he decided to suddenly  call it a night.

‘Same again?’ He beat her to it.

‘Yeah, thanks,’  she answered  almost  shyly.

She watched  him  order  the  second  round  at  the bar,  unable  to  steal  her  eyes away  from  his thick rugby  neck,   broad   rugby   back,   broad   muscular  shoulders  and  a  bottom  that   just  begged  to  be pinched.

Jesus,  what  was  she  at?  She  scolded  herself  for harbouring  such  sinful  thoughts.  Mark   was  her friend. A
friend
. Like Claire was her friend. She didn’t fantasize about  pinching
her
bottom or making sure her  legs touched  Claire’s  as  they  sat  side  by  side having a drink in the Merrion Inn on a Friday night.
Stop it
, she reprimanded herself.  You’ve gone mad altogether. Surreptitiously, as if to make a point, she moved  her  chair  slightly  away  from  Mark’s.  If he noticed  any change when he returned from the bar, he didn’t comment.  He simply placed the drinks  on the table and smiled.

‘Thanks  for  listening  to  me,’  she  returned  the smile. ‘I know  I sound  like a wet weekend.’

‘I don’t  mind  listening.  That’s  what  friends  are for.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed in a high thin voice that sounded nothing  like her  own.  She resented  the  way  Mark constantly referred  to their ‘friendship’. ‘Friends are extremely  important. And I’m here for you too.’

He looked  at her puzzled.

‘I’m here  to  listen,’  she  continued  and   patted  his  knee  like a mother  would  a small  child.  ‘Now what about  this break  up with Sally? Are you upset about  it?’

‘I . . .’

‘Well, there’s  plenty  more  fish  in  the  sea,’  she continued like  a  robot. ‘I hope  everything  works out with your one in London. She seems very nice.’

‘How do you know? I haven’t said anything about her.’ He began to laugh at her poker  face.

Anna opened her mouth to say something but shut it just in time.

‘Her name’s Jane,’ he said finally. ‘She used to go out with my brother.’

‘Super,’  said  Anna.   ‘So  she’s  already   met  the family.’

‘It’s not like that. Anyway, Anna, since when have you been interested  in my love life?’

‘God Almighty, is it that  late? Steve will be out of his  mind  with  worry,’  Anna  said knowing  he’d be nothing of the sort. He’d be up there studying in the UCD library until the bell sounded,  telling students to sod off back to flatland.

‘It  is  late,  time  flies when  you’re  having  fun.’ Mark held her jacket open for her. ‘Thanks for your company.’

‘No, thank 
you
,’ she answered  guiltily.

He parked his new Saab outside his front gate. ‘I’ll walk you home,’ he offered.

‘Ha ha  very funny.’  She sneaked  a quick  glance across the road.  Darkness  enveloped  Steve’s downstairs flat. She hoped  Mark  wouldn’t  notice.

‘I’d invite you in for a nightcap  but  I don’t  want Steve  hammering  on  my  door  with  a  battleaxe,’ Mark said.

‘Of course.’ Anna looked mortified. She knew that
he
  knew  there  was  no  chance  of Steve going near anyone  with  a battleaxe. A deep  colour  crept  into her cheeks but she wasn’t prepared to take another climb down. ‘Goodnight,’  she said awkwardly.

‘Goodnight,’  he replied and retreated to his bachelor house.  Alone.

‘I like niva iva wanna  come hoime.’

Claire listened politely as her sister Emma rattled  on and on about how wonderful Oz was. Apparently the place she lived in was just like
Home  and Away
. Trouble was, since Emma had gone Away she now didn’t  seem  to  be planning  to  come  Home.  She’d adopted an  irritating Australian accent,  the  result of  hooking  up  with  some  surf  dude  named  Brad no doubt. Claire’s parents  were freaking  out  at the prospect  of Emma settling  on the other  side of the world. Dublin was bad enough, they thought, but at least Claire  could  get to Limerick  in three  hours  in a crisis.

‘Guess who  I met the other  day?’ Claire  tried  to keep her voice as neutral  as possible.

‘Who?’

‘Tom.’

‘
Who
?’

‘Tom from Galway.’

‘Oh that  Tom,  how’s he coping?’ Emma sounded all serious all of a sudden.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Tom’s fiancé
e was  killed  in a  car  accident  last year,’ Emma  continued in a morbid  voice. ‘We all thought he’d go off the rails. She was so perfect for him. Shocking tragedy  so it was.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘I know.’

‘Tell him  I was  asking  after  him  if you  see him again.’

‘I will,’ Claire said soberly.

‘How’s Simon? Still stuck to his computer?’ Claire’s sister had never considered  Simon to be the world’s most exciting man.

‘Oh  great,’  Claire  said  with  a  cheerfulness  she didn’t feel. ‘And Andrew’s got so big you wouldn’t recognize him.’

‘Send us a recent photo, won’t you?’

‘Sure . . . listen, sis, this is costing  me a fortune.  Talk to you again.’

‘Love ya.’

‘You too.’  Claire  hung  up.  Talking  to  her  little sister usually lifted her spirits no end. Not this time. Poor  Tom,  she  thought. Some  people  had  it  very tough.  She  wished  she  could  help  him  somehow.  But she wouldn’t know  where to begin. Besides she didn’t  even  know  where  he  lived  or  worked.   He might think she was a prying old busybody or worse, somebody  pretending to help,  just to make  herself feel better.  An  involuntary shudder  shot  down  her spine. Maybe that’s what she was trying to do. Feign concern  about  other  people’s misfortunes when her own shoddy  life was crumbling  all around her. She met her eyes in the hall mirror.  You freak,  she told herself, yo
u miserable
freak.

Simon arrived  home  in good  spirits.  The market was strong, he told his wife as he nabbed a beer from the fridge. In all it had  been a good  week’s trading  so far. In fact, he added  like a bombshell, it was so good, the office was going out celebrating.

Claire’s  face  fell. Not  another night  alone  with the  TV and  a sleeping baby.  She just couldn’t  face it. She was supposed  to be a young  wife for God’s sake, not the merry frigging widow! ‘No you’re not,’ she said deliberately,  stopping  just short of stamping  her foot.

Simon had  been  about  to  switch  on  the  box  in order to catch  up on the sports  news but  suddenly thought better of it. The look on his wife’s face was thunderous. What  was the story? What  the hell was wrong  now?

‘Fire ahead,’  he pretended to  be contrite,  ‘what have  I done?  Left the lid off the toothpaste again? Silly me.’

‘You’re not going out again,  I’m sick of it.’

‘What do you mean you’re sick of it? I’m the one bloody  well working  my ass off all day  long.  I’m entitled  to the odd night out!’

‘Odd?’ Claire  gave a high-pitched squeal.  ‘If you go  out  again  to
night, that’ll be the third
night  in ten days.’

‘Oh my God, she’s counting,’ Simon sighed. ‘She’s keeping tabs on me already. This is why they tell you not to get married.’

‘They? Who’s
they
, may I ask? Jake?’

‘Listen,  don’t  throw   that   at  me.’  Simon  could feel  his  blood  pressure   beginning   to  rise.  ‘I  was dead  against  Jake  and  Anna  pairing  off  from  the start.’

A fraught  tension  hung between  them.

‘Come out with us,’ Simon finally suggested. ‘Why don’t you?’

‘Who’ll mind Andrew?’

Simon concentrated on  the  remote  control  as if it  could  somehow  provide  the  answer.  ‘Fiona?’ he suggested limply.

‘Fiona can’t babysit on weeknights
ti
ll after her exams.  You know that,
Simon.’

‘What about
Mrs Murphy?’

‘It’s too late to be asking her.’

‘Have you any suggestions  then?’

Claire saw a flicker of impatience
cross the face that had been smiling barely ten minutes ago. ‘What about your mother?’  she said suddenly.

‘My  mother!’  Simon  couldn’t have acted
more surp
rised  if she’d suggested The Cookie
Monster.

‘That’s out of the question.’

‘Why?’ Claire placed her hands defiantly
on her hips. ‘Why is it so out of the question?’

‘My mother’s
too old,’ he said tonelessly.

‘And what about mine?
She’s the  same  age but
Mum didn’t mind taking
Andrew for a whole week after Christmas.’

‘You mother
was glad of the company.’

‘Bullshit,’ Claire’s eyes bulged with rage. ‘She did it to give us a break. But some women are too selfish to give a hand.’

The look on Simon’s face was one of sheer
disbe
lief. ‘Are you referring  to my mother?’

Claire  shrugged.  ‘Well,’ she spoke
deliberately,
‘she certainly  did a ver
y good job of raising a self-
centred  son.’

Minutes
later the front  door  slammed.  ‘And fuck you  too,’  Claire  muttered, her
face dissolving  into a river of tears.  She  flung open
the  fridge  door, grabbed  a bottle  of white  wine,  filled a teacup  and swallowed  it  all  in one  go, wincing  as the  alcohol stung the back of her throat. Immediately she refilled her cup. God where had it all gone wrong? What had happened to  her  dreams?  Cosy  nights  in with  her handsome husband? Adoring baby sitting in between them? A roaring  fire and good home cooking?  How had her husband gone from finding her the sexiest siren that  ever lived, to the most boring  woman  in Ireland?  She drank  some more.  Why  did everyone pretend   marriage  was  the  be  and  end  all  of  life? Simon had been mad about  her for years. He hadn’t stopped   grinning  the  night  of  their  wedding.  He hadn’t   let  her  sleep  a  wink   in  their   big  double bed.  And  then  Andrew  had  arrived  and  changed everything.

Claire sat on the c
hocolate-coloured leather  arm
chair, her hands choking the neck of the wine bottle.  She switched  on the TV and promptly turned  it off again. She took another long slug of wine and began to feel more optimistic.  Things would have to change around here.  It  was  simply  a  matter   of  working things  out.  But  she  would  have  to  play  her  part too.  No  more  unwaxed  legs, unplucked eyebrows, chipped  nails, unwashed hair and  flaky skin. These days Claire rarely bothered to brush her hair unless it was for a dinner party or something. Madness. No wonder  Simon preferred  a night out with a bunch of slappers than  a dull evening in with  his plain  Jane wife.  Maybe  one  of  those  slappers  would  end  up getting her wicked way with Simon. Claire frowned  at the bottle. According to Anna, the women around town had very low morals and would sink their false fingernails into your man before you knew what hit you. Apparently the ratio in Dublin was two women to every man.  There  weren’t  enough  single men  to go round.

It  was  unnerving  to think  that  someone
could
take Simon if they desperately
wanted  him. A man’s willpower wasn’t  as strong  as a woman’s.  If Claire was silly  enough  to  drive  her  husband away  with her moaning  and  moping,  she was  her  own  worst enemy. She drank a little more and started  to cheer up. Everything  was in her hands.  She was going to make  this  the  happiest  marriage  ever. Herself  and Simon  would  be  the  ideal 
Hello!
  couple.  Victoria Reddin would be
envious
when she turned  up on her doorstep with  her  adoring  husband. She wouldn’t  turn up her nose and say ‘
very nice
’
then.