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.
