Mr Right for the Night (37 page)

‘Rich? Is that  you?’

‘Anna!’ He looked  like a startled  rabbit.

‘Rich, how nice to see you.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘You’ve got a great  colour.’

‘Er thanks,  Anna.  It’s good  to,  er, see you.’

‘Likewise.’

God,  he looked  so uncomfortable, it was great.

‘Listen, Anna,  I’d love to  stay  and  chat  but  I’m rushing  off to an audition.’

‘They’re looking  for someone  dark,  right?’

‘Er . . . right.’

‘Okay,  bye then.  And congratulations?’

‘Why?’

‘Oh you  know,’  Anna  smiled  at  his discomfort.
‘You and  Sandra.’

‘Oh yeah.  You’re okay  about  that,  aren’t  you?’

‘I’m fine. Well, see you.’ She disappeared into the sunroom and  closed the door  firmly shut.  ‘Are you okay?’ Anna  mimicked  as she undressed.  God,  the bloody  nerve! Who  did men think  they were?

She was well rid of him anyway, she thought as she relaxed into the heat. Wasn’t he supposed to be broke? Huh!  Obviously  not  too  broke  for  the  old  sunbed sessions. Men,  they were a complete  waste  of time.

Just as she was beginning to truly relax, the sunbed snapped  itself  off.  Sugar.  She’d enjoyed  lying  there sniggering  at  the  memory  of  Rich’s  face.  At  least it  had  taken   her  mind  off  Mark   somewhat.  She redressed  quickly,  ho
ping  the  sunbed  hadn’t  com
pletely ruined  her hair.

She  ambled   up  Grafton  Street  drinking   in  the lively atmosphere. How  Dublin  had  changed  over the  past  few years.  Apparently it was now  the ‘in’ place in Europe.  People of all nationalities came for weekends  to party,  party,  party.

But they  weren’t  going  to  Victoria’s  party.  No, you’d have to be an eejit to go to that.  They came to have fun in Temple Bar and stagger the streets at
2 a.m.  singing Ole,  Ole,  Ole.

How  things  had  changed.   Years  ago,  the  only tourists you’d see would be a few Americans dressed from head  to toe in green for fear of standing  out. Anna  had  thought  they  were  all  extremely   rich. People,  you  know,  who’d  left a depressed  Ireland by boat  and had made a fortune  over in places like Boston  and  New  York. She’d always  thought they were  mad  to  come  back  to  visit  Ireland  where  it rained  all the time and was as boring  as hell.

A glance at her
watch  stopped  Anna from  day
dreaming  further.  It was  past  five. In three  hours she’d be at the party.  Oh  God,  oh God,  oh God!

Back  in  her  bedroom  Anna  squeezed  her  size twelve  figure  into  her  clingy  black  dress,  sucked in  her  tummy,   turned   sideways  and  took  a  long hard  look  at  herself  in the  full-length  mirror.  Oh God,   would   she  pass?   Would   people   recognize Anna  Allstone?  Or  would   they  simply  take  pity on  her,  still  single  after  all  these  years?  Poor  old Anna.  Imagine!  She  actually   fancied  her  chances with  Mark Landon.  As if.

She sat down  on the bed and cradled  her head in her  hands.  She couldn’t  go through with  this,  she couldn’t. Anna  was the worst  actress  in the world. She couldn’t possibly  pull this off without a hitch. What  was she  going to do?

She didn’t  have  to  go, of course.  It wasn’t  as if someone  was  holding  a gun  to  her  head.  She was a free agent.

It wouldn’t  matter  if she didn’t  turn  up. She was a  nonentity. Nobody would  care  if Anna  Allstone didn’t show  her face.

Stay at home if you want  to, she told herself. Go to bed. Go to bed and then tomorrow you can wake up and it will all be over.

She could  tell  Claire  she’d  got  food  poisoning. Food  poisoning!   Yeah,  right.  As  if  Claire  would fall  for  that.   Cop  on,  Anna.  You’re  a  successful career  woman  with  the  whole  world  at  your  feet. Grow  up and  act your  thirty  years.

She needed  help. Some Dutch  courage.  A brandy would   help  her  nerves,  wouldn’t   it?  Just  a  tiny brandy. It couldn’t  hurt.

Right,  where  was  she  going  to  get  it?  Booting round  to  the  off  licence  was  out  of the  question.

Surely there was some stacked  away in her parents’
sideboard?

She  sneaked   downstairs,  feeling  sixteen   again. She   stopped   by  the   sideboard,  praying   to  God her  old  man  wouldn’t   pounce   from   the  kitchen demanding an  explanation. She gently  eased  open the little mahogany door.  It creaked  loudly.  God, it probably hadn’t  been opened  since last Christmas.

An unopened bottle  of vodka  stood  by the  half bottle of brandy. Did Anna  imagine  it, or was the vodka just screaming  to be opened?

Suddenly,  she  grabbed   it  and  tiptoed   back  up the  stairs,   her  heart   beating   a  little  faster   than normal.  She  felt  like  a  naughty   child  who’d  just nicked  the  Christmas tin of Quality  Street. She sat back  down  on  the  bed  and  studied  the  unopened bottle.  She had  to  get  a  mixer.  She was  nervous, but not 
that
nervous. The vodka  couldn’t  be drunk  straight.

‘Oh, Anna,  you look  as pretty  as a picture,’  Mrs Allstone  gushed  as  her  daughter tottered into  the kitchen  in four-inch  shoes.  ‘Doesn’t she, James?’

Her  father  looked  at  her.  ‘She could  do  with  a little less muck  on her face.’

‘Thanks,  Dad,’  Anna  sighed.  Jesus, some  things never changed.

‘The frock  is a bit short,’  Grandad grumbled.

‘Could everybody  please give me a break?’ Anna wailed. ‘I only came down  to get myself some coke. I’m parched  with  the thirst.’

‘There’s  coke  in  the  fridge,  dear,’  said  Anna’s mother.  ‘Get yourself  a glass.’

‘I think  I’ll take  the  bottle  up  with  me,’  Anna avoided her eye, ‘I really am very thirsty.’

Back once more  in the privacy of her own room, Anna  poured  herself a generous  measure  of vodka and coloured  it with a drop  of coke. What  was she like?  Eh?  Drinking   vodka  all  by  herself  at  seven o’clock  in  the  evening.  Jesus,  it  was  still  bright outside.

She took a sip. It burned  her throat, nearly killing her. And then another one. Ah, that  was better.  She took another peep in the mirror.  Maybe  she didn’t look  so  bad  after  all. Her  hair  had  a
because  I’m worth  it
shine and the sunbed  had given her cheeks a healthy just-back-from-the-sun glow.

The  dress  had  cost  a  small  fortune.   Anna  had nothing  to  be ashamed  of. She was  up  there  with the  best of them.  She took  another gulp of vodka. In  fact  she  looked  quite  pretty.  Even  her  mother  had said so. Her  mother  didn’t  throw  compliments out  easily. What  had  she said  again?  As pretty  as a picture.  Well, that depended  on what  picture  you were looking at really. As long as it wasn’t a picture of a pig’s arse, Anna chuckled and drank  some more vodka.  Jesus, this was hot  stuff.

She drank   some  more.  Where  had  her  parents  got  this  stuff  from  anyway?  It  must  have  been  a Christmas  present.   God,   what   a  waste.   Well,  it wasn’t  going  to  waste  now,  that  was  sure.  Anna
was  thoroughly enjoying  it.  ‘Cheers’  she  told  her reflection.  The  reflection  smiled  back  at  her.  She looked pretty fab, although she said it herself. Pretty fab indeed.  Victoria  Reddin,  eat your  heart  out!

A knock  on the door  startled  her.  Panicked,  she ran to her wardrobe and  put  the half-full  bottle  at the  bottom of  it.  Half-full!  Jesus,  had  she  really drunk that much?

‘Who is it?’ she called.

‘It’s Dad.  Do  you  want  a  lift  to  this  place  or what?’

‘Oh thanks,  Dad,  that’d  be great.’

She  sat  in  the  passenger   seat  of  her  father’s car  aware  that  her  dress  was  riding  up  along  her thighs. She placed her coat  on her lap to avoid any comment.

God,  it was  still bright.  Anna  caught  a glimpse of herself in the side mirror.  Was it her imagination or did her make-up  look  like it had  been caked  on with  a shovel?

Mr  Allstone  drove  from  Stillorgan  to  Blackrock at  like  ten  miles  per  hour.  Anytime  tonight, Dad please, Anna thought as she crossed her legs tightly underneath  her  coat.  Why  hadn’t  she gone  to  the toilet  before  she left the house?  Ha!  She could  just imagine  her  introduction. ‘Hi,  everybody,  where’s the loo?’

Sophisticated  or  what?   But  who   cared?   Anna didn’t any more. It was just a stupid reunion  thingy. Full of silly twits she went to school with. Who cared
about  them?  They had  the problem,  not  her. Anna Allstone  was a big success with  a hugely important job in London. She was single out of choice. Any fool could get a man. The world was crawling with them. Why should Anna settle for second best? Why? She was too  fussy, that’s  what  she was.  Anna  was one fussy babe.

‘Do  you  think   this  could  be  it?’  Mr  Allstone turned  the corner  into  Cherrylog  Avenue.

‘Well, judging  by  all the  Beamers  and  Mercs  it must be,’ Anna muttered. ‘Let me out here, Daddy. No seriously,  you don’t  have to park  right  outside the front door.  Thanks,  Daddy.  Goodnight,  bye.’

Anna walked unsteadily along the tree-lined gravel drive, staring ahead. A uniformed man was directing the  cars into  parking  spaces.  Who  was that,  Anna wondered. The house  was more  like a hotel.  Anna wondered what  it had 
cost.  Easily a million.  Prob
ably more  like two.  A majestic  stone  mansion  with Georgian  windows, flanked  by a hard  tennis  court on one side, an indoor  swimming  pool  surrounded by glass walls on the other. Wow! The Reddins must be  millionaires  several times  over.  Anna  suddenly didn’t  feel  as  brave  any  more.  All  this  was  very intimidating.

She mounted the  stone  steps  and  took  a  deep breath. She  hoped   she  wasn’t  the  first  to  arrive. Please  let  Claire  and  Simon  be  there  already,  she silently begged.  Oh  please  don’t  leave me in there all on my own.

She rang  the long brass  doorbell  nervously.  The huge  wooden   doors
  opened   slowly.  A  haughty-
looking middle-aged  man in coat tails gave a formal little  bow.  Ah Jesus,  this  was  a  bit  over  the  top. It was supposed  to be a school  reunion  for crying out  loud.

‘Good evening, madam,’  he said tonelessly.  ‘And you are?’

‘Anna Allstone,’  she replied,  wondering  who  the hell he thought she was. The hired help? With a red pen he struck  her name meticulously  off a long list.

‘Welcome,’ he said.  ‘May I take  your  coat?’

God,  this  was  all very serious,  she thought. She handed  over  her  coat  before  being  assaulted  by a tray  of champagne glasses. Christ,  she needed  one of those. Badly.

‘Thank you.’ She took a glass from the young girl dressed in a crisp white blouse and tight black skirt.

‘Er, where  is everybody?’

‘The rest of the guests are in the drawing  room,’
the girl spoke  in a hushed  voice.

‘And  where’s  the  bathroom?’  Anna   whispered back as if it might  be a crime to raise one’s voice.

‘Up the stairs  and  to the right.’

Anna  mounted the sweeping  stairs  uneasily.  She was  hating   this  already.   The  atmosphere  in  this big old  grand  house  seemed  fraught  with  tension.  She wanted  to leave. Would  anybody  notice  if she slipped back  out again?  Imagine  wanting  to escape and  the evening hadn’t even begun!  There  was still
time to go, she thought. Nothing was stopping  her from turning  on her heels and walking straight  back out again. But no, she was here now, determined to see this bloody night  through if it killed her.

The bathroom was as big as the apartment back in Galway. The carpet  easily swallowed  her four-inch heels. She sat on the toilet, aware  that  her head was spinning. Was it the vodka?  Maybe  she should  stay away  from the champagne.

‘Is there anyone in there?’ Somebody was rapping lightly on the door.

‘Just a minute,’  she called.

She flushed the toilet  and  steadied  herself before opening  the door.

‘Anna  Allstone,   well  there’s  a  blast   from   the past.’

Anna stood face to face with Carole Levine, a girl who’d  very much  aid
ed  Victoria  in making  every
body’s schooldays  hell. Carole  had  put  on weight, Anna  noticed  gleefully. And too  many  holidays  in the  sun  hadn’t  been  kind  to  her  skin  either.  She wore  a  loose  white  viscose  dress  that  looked  like it might  fall off at  any minute.

‘Carole,  gosh you
’ve changed.’  Anna’s eyes wid
ened exaggeratedly. For the worse.

‘Is that  good  or bad?’

The  look  on  Anna’s  face  said  it  all.  ‘Good  of course,’  she mumbled  unconvincingly.

‘Anyway,  how  are  you?’ Carole  went  on.  ‘Isn’t this  just  fabulous?   The  house  is  divine,  isn’t  it?
And Victoria  looks  amazing,  as usual.  She’s dying to meet you and your partner. Your partner is here, isn’t he?’

‘Well no,’ Anna  began,  ‘I––’

‘Oh,  he’s  away   on  business   or  something,  is he?  I  hate  when  Aidan  has  to  go  away,  which  is quite often,  you know.  His job is really important. But  don’t  worry   about   it.  You’re  here  with  old friends.  We’ll  look
after  you.’  Carole   patted
her arm condescendingly.