by Amy Huberman
‘Thank you,’ she said, with a smile of relief, as if I’d just thrown her a lifeline.
A few minutes later Keelin joined us, smiling broadly. ‘Shall we order?’
I was looking through the menu when I spotted Keelin doing something weird. Had she just winked at someone? I looked around and saw this very cute guy wink back at her.
‘Keelin, what are you doing? You look like some sleazy old man at a strip club.’
‘Seen many of them, have you, Izzy?’
‘Jesus, I wish.’
‘I’m just checking to see that I’ve still got it.’
‘Got what?’ Susie asked. ‘A sleazy streak?’
‘God, no, Suz, I know I still have that. I want to know that I’ve still got it. My sex appeal. That guys still find me attractive.’
‘Oh, please!’ We rolled our eyes.
‘I’m serious!’ she protested. ‘Honestly, guys, this Simon thing’s driving me crazy. He literally pretends not to notice me. I fell off my chair at a board meeting last week in an attempt to catch his eye with my cleavage. But he refuses to acknowledge me when he isn’t forced to. He only ever nods at me when he’s dropping faxes over to my desk or something. I sent him an email last week, saying, “Hey, Sexy! Do you fancy grabbing a coffee downstairs?” I got nothing back! And I’m afraid I’ll get fired if I go ahead and just jump on him.’
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend that.’ I was cringing for her a little bit. She really wasn’t great at taking hints, was she? Maybe she just wasn’t used to rejection.
‘Maybe he has a girlfriend,’ Susie offered.
‘Nope, he doesn’t. I checked with Katie in Marketing – she knows him quite well.’
‘Maybe he’s gay,’ I threw in.
‘Please! I have the most in-tune gaydar out of anyone on the planet. I can smell gayness. Anyway, it was our work night out on Tuesday. Remember we’d sold a record number of rabbit-flavoured doggy snacks in June, so our managing director was taking us out for dinner and drinks to celebrate?’
We nodded, although I’m pretty sure neither of us knew what she was talking about.
‘Well, we’d outsold our rival dogfood company by an unprecedented twenty-three per cent – their duck and orange treats haven’t been doing too well lately, or their pork and bacon bits biscuits. Sad for them, really, but – where was I? So, yeah, for the first time in ages, I didn’t chase Simon around. [Had he issued her with a restraining order? Hired bodyguards?] I know you’ll find that really hard to believe, but I didn’t go near him. [Definitely a restraining-order cover-up.] And I saw him chatting up some girl at the bar. Anyway, Katie from Marketing started snogging Ed from Accounts. I decided to leave after I saw Dave from Research attempting to dance to the Pussycat Dolls. On my way out I bumped into Simon leaving with some girl! So he is definitely not gay!’
Susie and I eyeballed each other. I couldn’t believe Keelin had got to the ripe old age of twenty-seven without ever having come face to face with the harsh realities of unrequited love.
We paid for our coffee and sandwiches and let someone else have the table, but decided we weren’t finished chatting so headed into the nearest pub and settled into a corner booth. I told Susie all about Edna McClodmutton, and she thought I was taking the piss. ‘Could you imagine?’ she shrieked.
‘No need,’ I replied.
Her eyes darted from me to Keelin like one of those Action Man dolls, scouring our faces for hints of sarcasm. When there was none to be found she screamed, and I nodded bravely. I toyed with telling them about Cian’s phone call too, but decided against it. I didn’t want to over-analyse it until I’d convinced myself to call him back. Naturally the temptation was to pull at the little thread he’d offered, but the danger was that I’d just keep on pulling and pulling and pulling until everything had come undone again. I didn’t trust myself not to do that, and I didn’t have the energy to stitch it all back together again when I was left with another mess. I was going to ignore that little thread. Anyway, he was probably only ringing out of obligation. A little twinge of guilt had probably nestled into his head after Edna had mentioned she’d bumped into me on-set. Probably jogged his memory that he still hadn’t got round to that apology he’d been meaning to issue more than eight months ago. Now he could tick it off his to-do list.
Either that or he was calling me to get Edna’s and my work address so he could send a big bunch of roses with a note that said, ‘Dearest most beautifullest Edna McClodmutton, I am so proud of you getting this wonderful part. I love you so much – more, in fact, than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. And I just know that you’re going to make it big in Hollywood and that everyone will see you every day on the television, in magazines and in newspapers, everywhere. And possibly even on huge billboards where my ex lives too. All my love, now and for ever, Cian.’
The barman came over and asked us to leave because we were getting too ‘rowdy’. Susie apologized and said she’d only screamed because she’d seen a spider, which wasn’t true but he’d hardly understand about Edna and my heartache. He said he didn’t care if she’d seen a rhinoceros, took away our drinks (oi!) and kicked us out.
We trundled back onto the streets, wondering where we could go to next. We were a little tipsy after an afternoon of boozy chats, and the most popular option seemed to be to eat again. I told them not to judge me but I’d been secretly obsessing about chipper chips all through Keelin telling us about the incessant flirting she’d witnessed Caroline and Marcus doing with each other while she’d been staying with them. Keelin had told us they were still acting as if nothing was going on between them and kept insisting they were just friends. Then she shot me a look.
‘What?’ I asked her. ‘What did I do?’
‘Nothing.’ She smiled. ‘Let’s get chipper chips.’
We went to the nearest chipper and ordered a bag each. I told the lady behind the counter that I had bought a lip exfoliator in town earlier on, but she didn’t seem to care. It had seemed perfectly normal to share this little nugget with her, but it had probably been the gin and tonic talking. I stayed silent for the remainder of the wait and only spoke again to tell her I didn’t want vinegar on my chips, but she lashed some on anyway. Don’t they always?
Outside the chipper we got giddy about the prospect of returning to our house. Aidan’s jailbird mates were safely locked away, we were pissed enough to take the edge off our fear, we hadn’t hung out together in ages and there was a bottle of vodka in one of the kitchen cupboards. I asked if anyone thought the family-killing tattoo brigade might be waiting there for us. They insisted we’d be fine, that the drug lords would have got bored by now and that I’d have to give up watching so many crap detective shows. Susie looked a bit sheepish and I didn’t want to start another row, so I just nodded even though I never watched crap detective shows. Only Murder She Wrote and the odd Columbo. And maybe one or two Midsomer Murders.
Keelin said she was dying to get back into her own bed again as she was convinced she’d developed spina bifida from sleeping on Caroline’s couch. Susie said you couldn’t get spina bifida from sleeping on a couch, but Keelin didn’t seem convinced.
My phone rang as we headed for home. I fished it out of my bag and saw a number I didn’t recognize on my screen. It couldn’t be Cian again, could it? I answered, trying to steady my voice.
‘Hello, love.’ It was Mum.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Listen, just phoning to remind you about this weekend, Dad’s birthday? We’re having a Sunday roast at four.’
‘I remembered!’ I lied. Phew, thank God for mothers who knew you inside-out.
‘I knew you would,’ she lied in turn.
‘Where are you calling from? Have you and Dad moved house and forgotten to tell me?’
‘No, I’m over at Charlotte Noonan’s – thought I’d give you a buzz now in case you were heading out later and I didn’t get a chance to speak to you.’
‘Thanks, Mum, s
ee you Sunday.’
So it hadn’t been Cian. Good. If it had been important, he would have called again. Just as I’d guessed, he had put in a courtesy call to check what stage I was at along the Heartbreak Scale, and exactly how horrific it had been coping without him.
I thought about his friends, his apartment, his mother, and his cosy family house that always smelt of home cooking, about his dad who always cracked inappropriate jokes, and his smelly brother. It was like a different world, a world I’d left one day and was never allowed back to. I couldn’t imagine ever not missing it, even just a little bit.
I caught up with the girls and we continued on our way to our own little world. Criminals and silly tiffs aside – not to mention the boiler that needed a good kick now and then – it was one I’d always feel at home in.
18
Thank God it was finally Saturday. I’d thought it would never come. I knew it had to, as it has every week with the same regularity since I was born, but sometimes on a Tuesday afternoon, Saturday just seemed so distant.
I had been drifting in and out of sleep ever since the sun’s first rays had crept between the curtains. Telling myself it was my duty to stay in bed past ten o’clock simply because I could, I forced myself to engage in semi-conscious dreamlike images of myself dressed in Oscar de la Renta ball-gowns, driving champagne-coloured convertibles, doing photo shoots for my campaign as the new face of Tiffany’s, all the while screening calls from Madonna, who was hounding me relentlessly to come to another of her parties. And, of course, being bombarded with requests for dates from an endless line of gorgeous men. I think I remember Jonathan Ride Cunningham floating among my bunch of delicious stalkers. That’s right: he had been the one who’d arrived at my villa with the truckload of Christian Louboutins, begging me to sleep with him. Then Josh Hartnett had called around to say he’d organized an anything-you-see-you-can-have day at Brown Thomas for me and was going to take me for steak and chips in Shanahan’s afterwards.
The bliss of enforced Saturday morning semi-controlled dreaming.
I wondered when I’d see him again. Jonathan Ride Cunningham, that was. I didn’t know how long he was going to be hanging around Dublin and I needed due warning before I ran into him. Time to practise standing up without falling over, speaking without going red in the face, talking about work-related topics without sounding like a brain-damaged chimpanzee, not fainting when the sun came out. I’d set aside ten minutes every day to rehearse in front of the mirror.
Oh, what was the point? He already thought I was a social leper. I should probably admit defeat and bring a bell to work to signal when I was coming. Give him a chance to scarper.
Speaking of bells, one was ringing downstairs. Huh?
‘Everyone downstairs, please! Tea is being served in the kitchen!’ Keelin called. Susie and I shuffled out of our bedrooms, groggy and confused.
‘Great. Everyone’s still alive.’ Keelin smiled as we plodded into the kitchen.
‘Did Will, Caroline and Marcus brainwash you? Are they all in some weird army cult?’
‘No, I just wanted to make sure everyone survived the first night back. And that no one was murdered in their sleep by the Terminator, like I was in my nightmares.’
‘Oh, me too!’
‘And me!’
‘How did he kill you?’ Susie asked me.
‘Axe. You?’
‘Chainsaw.’
Keelin stared at us earnestly. ‘I just want you to know that it’s normal to feel what you’re feeling. A lot of people experience trauma as a result of being victims of crime, and go through what you are now.’
Wow. And they thought I watched too much Murder She Wrote.
I decided to call Gavin and see if he was about so I could tell him about our move back to the house. I could collect some of my stuff from him too.
Much later, when I got there, he had a full spread of lunch on the go, which was great as I was starving. I told him about sitting down to eat a scone on that new river boardwalk near O’Connell Bridge on my way over to his place, but before I’d managed to take a bite I was attacked by a seagull. I ended up throwing the scone at it and running the rest of the way.
‘What?’ He laughed.
‘I know! Feckin’ scared the hell out of me!’
‘You sure you didn’t imagine it? Maybe you’ve been watching a certain Hitchcock film recently. Remember that time you thought Chucky was chasing you?’
He was! Well, near enough. How was I to know a little red-haired kid with ADHD had just moved in down the road? I did feel bad in the end, though. I’d legged it so many times when he was just trying to say hello to me that he ended up bawling one day and his mum told me off for screaming every time her five-year-old son came near me.
We sat on the two wooden chairs on the balcony with our plates on our laps and basked in the warm afternoon sunshine. Our glasses of cool white wine glistened in the sunlight as a myriad noises sputtered out of the radio in the kitchen.
I filled him in on my eventful few days on-set and told him exactly who Tina Barrett’s replacement was.
‘You’re joking me?’ he asked, his voice full of disbelief. ‘Saffron Spencer is Cian’s new girlfriend?’
‘Yes!’
‘Well, who on earth is Edna McClodmutton, then?’
‘Gav! You didn’t think there was actually someone in this world called Edna McClodmutton, did you?’
‘Well, there was a Nuala Norrisflap in my class in college, so I guess you never know.’
I snorted wine up my nose in an attempt not to spray it all over myself. Ouch. ‘Nuala Norrisflap?’ I laughed.
‘She was a lovely girl, I’ll have you know, and if you continue to laugh at her unfortunate name, I’ll feed the rest of your lunch to the seagulls.’
‘I christened her Edna McClodmutton to substantially lessen her hotness.’
‘Izzy, she is not hot.’
Wow. That sounded almost as nice as ‘two-for-one’ in Topshop. Music to the ears. But I didn’t believe him so I couldn’t quite enjoy it. ‘Gavin, please, she’s a ride.’
‘Not my cup of tea at all. She’s fake and tacky and… well, not to mention the fact that she’s an out-and-out annoying muppet.’
‘Really?’
‘Really! Izzy, nobody respects that girl. She’s made an awful name for herself around town over the years, schmoozing and back-stabbing wherever she goes.’
‘Yeah, but now she’s got the lead in this movie and she’s gonna be a huge star and I’m going to have to see shots of her and Cian on holiday in Barbados in OK! magazine.’
‘Sorry, are we talking about the same movie here? Iz, I honestly don’t think Snog Me Now, You Dublin Whore is going to propel the girl to stardom.’ He took a slug of his wine. ‘Can’t believe Saffron Spencer’s Cian’s new girlfriend. Well, no, I can believe it. Given that he’s also a total and utter twat.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
Yay for Gavin!
We talked some more about how awful we thought Snog Me Now, You Dublin Whore was going to turn out. And then we chatted about the next project he was working on for Lights! Camera! Action!.
‘It’s marginally better,’ he told me.
‘As in you’d only be marginally embarrassed to put your name to it?’
‘Exactly. Jesus, Iz, I wouldn’t say this was hugely rewarding, would you?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, at least you have a plan. I just have some blurry picture in my head with no clear direction. How’s your own stuff coming along?’
‘Good, yeah. Slow, which is frustrating, but I think I have a new idea for a project.’
‘A documentary?’
‘Yeah, maybe. Hopefully.’
‘It’s so fantastic, it really is, that you have this goal and work so hard to fulfil it. Oh, Gav, please don’t tell me I’m going to end up a dogsbody for the Edna McClodmuttons of the world. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘Why don’t you
try de-blurring the picture a bit?’
‘Ha! Easier said than done.’
‘You can at least try.’
‘I’m already doing bits of everything for the production company I’m in now.’
‘Start drawing and painting again.’
‘Huh?’
‘Izzy, you’ve always said you wanted to get more involved in the creative side of film-making, but I never even knew you were artistic because you don’t use your gift. That’s what you should be concentrating on.’
‘I’m not that good.’
‘You are incredibly talented,’ he said, getting all serious. ‘Your stuff is amazing.’
‘They were only a few old sketches.’
‘Well, if that’s all they were, imagine what you could do if you really put your mind to it.’
I looked out at the trees in the distance, letting it mull over in my head for a while. ‘But what can I do? Unless I get into animation, and that’s not really my thing.’
‘I don’t know – just paint, draw, whatever. You’ll figure it out eventually. But you’re not going to get anywhere just talking about it.’
He was right. What was I afraid of? I didn’t have Cian in my life any more, looking down his nose at me whenever I expressed any interest in art.
‘Draw me,’ Gavin said suddenly.
‘Have you gone mad?’
‘Honestly. Draw me.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘Don’t be such a wuss, Izzy. Come on. Now or never. Draw me.’ I looked at him. He looked back at me, tapping the side of his glass casually and raising an eyebrow at me expectantly. ‘Well?’
I bit my lip. It had been so long – I hadn’t drawn a thing since that portrait. The one I’d given Cian for Valentine’s Day. The one I’d been bursting to show him because I’d worked so hard on it and was convinced it was the best I’d ever done. And what had he said when he saw it? ‘Aw, that’s lovely, Izzy. It’s great. And fair play to you, you didn’t have to spend a penny either. Jaysus, I wouldn’t have booked such a posh restaurant if I’d known you were doing my present on the cheap!’ He laughed, and I forced a smile. I will never, ever forget that disappointment.