by Claire Allan
I smiled and hugged her close. “You’ll be fine. I don’t envy you, but I know you’ll be fine. Your shoes will be safe.”
She groaned slightly and hugged me back. “You take care, Annie. And try not to sleep with anyone else unsuitable or break up with any chefs, or get any more work-warnings. You’ll get there, my darling. You’ll get your happy ending.” Her eyes were misty and I hugged her tighter as she let a few tears fall. “Damn DT’s,” she said. “I always get overly emotional after a few drinks. But anyway, sis, I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said, my own eyes filling, and she gave me a final squeeze before climbing on the bus and taking her seat.
I stood and watched the bus pull out of the depot. Her iPod earphones were already in her ears and her eyes were already closed. She didn’t wave or look at me and I sighed, turning and wrapping my jacket tightly around myself before walking back to my car.
I sat there for a while just looking out at the river. I should have gone home, of course I should have. But I knew home was empty. Darcy was gone and Fionn was off supposedly eating Knickerbocker Glories with Emma while trying to conceal the fact she had a whopping hangover. I checked my appearance in the mirror and slicked on some lip gloss before lifting my phone and typing a text to Ant.
“What’s your address? I need to see you.”
He answered – with an address fifteen minutes’ drive away just across the border, overlooking the beach at Fahan, and I drove to him, trying not to think about whether or not it was a good or a bad idea.
He answered the door dressed casually in faded jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt. A tuft of hair poked out just below his neck and before even speaking I found myself reaching out to touch it.
He didn’t talk either. He just looked at me and I noticed how dark his eyes were and how full his lips were. He took my hand in his and grazed my fingertips along his lips and then I allowed him to kiss me – right there in the doorway in full view of everyone on a Sunday afternoon drive to Buncrana.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he led me through the wide open-plan hallway to his solid oak staircase. “Really glad.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak – and it was no longer because the hangover was making me feel queasy. Yes, my stomach was full of butterflies but it was for an entirely different reason.
“It’s amazing here,” I said, lying in the crook of Ant’s arm on his kingsize bed, staring out his dormer window as the waves crashed to the shore.
“Why, thank you,” he mocked, “Always nice to be described as amazing.”
I laughed and jabbed him gently in the ribs. “Amazing and all as that was, I was actually talking about the location. How do you ever leave? I’d spend all my time just here staring out at the waves.”
“I can think of better things to do with my time,” he said, snuggling close so that I could feel exactly what better things he was talking about. I laughed again. “But yes, it is great here. You should see it on a stormy day. The beach is deserted, apart from a couple of die-hard dog-walkers and the spray batters against the window. Very atmospheric.”
“I like that,” I said, turning to face him and kissing him.
He pulled me closer again but I knew I had to get up. It had gone five and Fionn would no doubt be full to the gills with ice cream now and would be waiting for me back at the flat. Lord knows how things would have gone with Alex and she might need someone to talk to. I had to be unselfish and leave this terribly sexy man and his very atmospheric bedroom behind.
“I have to go,” I said, pulling away from him and scrambling around the floor for my clothes.
“That’s a shame,” he said, sitting up.
“Yes, it is,” I said, slipping my feet into my shoes.
“Can I call you?” he asked. “Or send any other edible goodies?”
“Calling is good,” I said, kissing him on the forehead and leaving him there in bed while I headed home into the balmy summer evening.
Fionn was dozing on the sofa when I walked in. She looked at me, half-asleep, and I pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and draped it over her.
“No, s’alright, I’ll get up now,” she said, struggling to open her eyes.
“You sleep on for a bit,” I said. “I’ll get dinner organised and we can chat.”
“I bought some food. S’in the kitchen,” she muttered.
I nodded before going for a good rummage in the fridge. There were all sorts of healthy treats in there so I set about whipping up a nice salad with some garlic bread.
Putting the food on the tray, I called to Fionn to meet me on the roof and I climbed the fire escape to sit by the old rusty barbecue.
“I’m never, ever drinking again,” Fionn commented as she sat down.
I laughed. “I’ve heard that before.”
“But I’m serious this time. I wasn’t fit to deal with Emma. And I don’t know how I managed to get that Knickerbocker Glory down me.” She shuddered at the thought and picked up her plate of salad. “This looks good.”
“Thought it would be the best option,” I said as I munched lettuce. “Get something healthy into us after the excesses of last night.”
“And today,” she said. “I had to attempt to eat a McDonald’s as well as the Knickerbocker Glory. For one so small Emma can fairly pack away the food.”
I smiled. “And Alex? Was he there?”
“Yes, he was there. And he didn’t even comment on my greenish pallor and intolerance of sunlight. We didn’t talk though – we couldn’t really with the wee woman there listening to our every word. But he looked, well, fed up and when I left he told me he missed me.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“Yes. Yes, I think it is very good indeed. But what about you, missus? Where were you all afternoon? Darcy’s bus left at two.”
“I went to the beach,” I half-lied. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell her the entire truth – it just felt easier not to for some reason.
“Needed to clear your head?”
“Something like that,” I said, staring out over the rooftops at the city. I definitely needed to clear my head. I was just not sure my afternoon in Ant’s arms had helped me do that at all.
I enjoyed spending the night in my own bed, even if Fionn was beside me. It was nice not to wake up with a crick in my neck and a pain in my back, but I groaned when I realised it was a work morning.
“Rise and shine, Valentine!” I chimed at Fionn.
“Please, Annie,” she whispered back at me. “If I mean anything to you at all, please tell me it is not Monday morning and we don’t have a full week ahead of glorious promotion of all sorts of weird and wonderful things?”
“I wish I could,” I said. “But come on, Fionn. Where’s your va-va-voom? Let’s get up and kick some public-relations arse! I’ve this mad singles’ night to get sorted, a new promotion at Love, Sex and Magic and another presser for Haven Cosmetics to get out in the post. I have fifty-six press packs to put together – including tying little ribbons around mascara wands. What more could a girl want?”
“Oh feck off,” Fionn said with a wry smile.
I climbed out bed and dived for the bathroom. I was still determined that, houseguest or no houseguest, I was getting in the shower first.
As the water poured over me, I could swear I smelled a faint hint of Ant and his musky aftershave. I sighed. He had texted me the night before – to thank me for my company and telling me that the beach was gorgeous at sunset. There had been no sexual innuendo at all and I liked that.
“We better take both cars,” Fionn said, grinning, after we were dressed. “We don’t want rumours starting about us spending the night together.”
“Could you imagine the scandal? Bawb would wet his knickers. He’d think we were running off together! It would almost be worth it, you know.”
Fionn shuddered. “I don’t fancy being a part of Bawb’s lesbian fantasy. Jeez, could you imagine it? Him getting him
self all hot and bothered . . .”
I burst out laughing. “There are some things I really, really don’t ever need to think about!”
“Right, well, separate cars then,” she said, lifting her keys from the hall table.
“Deal,” I agreed. “I’ll pick up some coffee and Danish pastries on the way in.”
As I drove to work I mused on how things were always changing, life always turning, and we never really knew from one day to the next what was ahead. Some things would always be the same though – like Monday-morning traffic, the chatter of the DJ on the radio and the smell of coffee in the local Starbucks.
Bob’s Monday-morning enthusiasm was also something which would never, ever change. He walked in, head held high and greeted us all as his team.
“Let’s make miracles happen!” he chirped before grabbing a latte from my desk and heading into his office. “We’ll meet in ten,” he called from the door to everyone and there was a small but audible groan from my colleagues.
“Where does he get the energy from?” Fionn asked the room and there was a general shrugging of shoulders and moaning about Monday being the absolute worst day of the week.
But for once I felt quite energised myself. I set about curling ribbon for the Haven Cosmetics press release and was twenty-six ribbons down (curling in record time) when Bob called his meeting.
We met in the boardroom and Bob was in highlighter-pen overdrive, with his flipchart already colour-coded for each employee and their client folders.
“Right, let’s make it a good week, people. Our clients are happy at the moment but we want to keep them happy. I’ve circulated the press cuttings from the relevant magazines and newspapers regarding our clients and a few of you will see there are interview requests. Could you coach your clients? We don’t want them blowing all our good work by saying the wrong thing. Fionn and Annie, that in particular refers to the LSM crowd. For the love of God ask them not to use the word ‘fucking’ live on radio again. Much as it generated a bit of a stir, the local Council were not a bit impressed and were talking of pulling licences etc.”
Fionn and I nodded. It wouldn’t be easy. Max and Maggie, the couple behind Love, Sex and Magic had to be persuaded to tone everything down. If they had their way they would have had lap-dancers shaking their wares in the shop windows day in and day out. Still, if we had managed to persuade them to stick with the magic theme as opposed to the sex theme for the launch, we could hopefully persuade them to lay off the swear words.
Bob rattled through the other projects and upcoming events before landing on the big Speed Dating Night. “Right, well, our client – Dream Dates – are very happy with how things are going so far. We have a great venue, some brilliant publicity ideas and Annie has had some brilliant ideas to make the night go with a bang.” He laughed at that – a little joke all to himself. “We really want this to work. This is our first event for Dream Dates and as they are going for the young professional demographic it is a big coup for us. So I want everyone to be on board here.”
Everyone nodded and I beamed. I was in his good books. Even though I thought he was an awful gobshite, it was definitely good to be in his good books for a change.
“Teacher’s pet,” Fionn mocked during our FSB.
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” I replied, secretly delighted. “You heard what he said. He wants everyone on board. So we can all be his wee pets. God love us.”
Fionn laughed. “Ooh, guess what?”
“What?” I asked.
“I had an email from Alex. He never emails me. He’s email-phobic. But he said he misses me. And that he is an eejit. And that Emma misses me too.”
“Did he think of that all by himself or did Rebecca tell him to say it?” I asked and immediately regretted it.
Fionn’s face darkened at the mention of the Evil Ex.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I offered. “I was trying to be funny but obviously I wasn’t one bit. That’s lovely, Fionn. Honest. I’m glad he is missing you. He should miss you. You are eminently missable.”
“You can stop creeping, Annie,” Fionn said with a wry smile. “You’re forgiven. It’s just a good thing I love you so much, otherwise I might just have murdered you by now.”
We walked back into the office and I didn’t tell Fionn that Ant had texted me earlier saying that the sunrise too was lovely at the beach.
I couldn’t believe it when I answered my phone to find Rebecca on the other end, her voice laden with grief and pity-me vibes.
“Annie, I know you don’t really know me,” she started, “but I need your help.”
I knew her much better than she thought, that was for sure.
“Things are bad between Fionn and Alex now, right?” she went on. “How bad are they? I’m terribly worried – you know, for Emma and all.”
Like feck was she worried. She was probably sewing her own wedding dress as we spoke and reapplying her crazy-assed lipstick so she could snog a well-worn photo of Alex in her pyschotic little shrine to him.
“I think they’ll be okay,” I lied – because the truth was, I didn’t know if they would be okay. I hoped that it would all work out but, given that I was proving myself to be a hopelessly rubbish judge of character these days, that didn’t count for much.
She sighed – a gutwrenchingly exaggerated sigh – and I actually feared what she might say or do next. “Well, that’s good then,” she said. “Because you know Emma wants to know and I was really worried about them. Poor Fionn – Alex really has messed up this time, hasn’t he?”
Oh, I knew what she was at – for absolute sure and certain – she was waiting for me to confide in her that, yes, Alex had messed up somewhat spectacularly so that she could run back to him with tales that Fionn had been badmouthing him to me. There were just two problems with that, however. The first, of course, was that Fionn had not been badmouthing him to me and the second was that it was me who had messed up. Regardless of the cause of their disquiet, I wasn’t going to give anything away to Rebecca – not without the aid of a very bright light and some instruments of torture anyway.
“Well,” I said, “you know these things just happen sometimes. I’m sure it will be fine.”
She sniffed. I could sense her lip curling. “Really? It seems pretty bad.”
“Ach, sure the path of true love never runs smoothly,” I offered and put the phone down before I had a chance to say the wrong thing.
At a quarter to five I had just packaged up my last mascara wand and set up an interview between a glossy magazine and Max and Maggie when Bob opened his office door and called me in.
He looked rather flushed and his tie was loosened. There was a light film of sweat on his brow as he sipped from a plastic cup of water.
“Sit down,” he gestured, his tone solemn.
I began to feel uneasy. The four walls of his small office seemed to close in around me little.
“There is no easy way to tell you this,” he began and my head started to swim.
This had to be bad news and by the look of horror on his face it was really bad news. Oh God. Not Darcy. Please let Darcy be okay. And Mum and Dad, of course. My heart started to beat faster and, while I could see his lips moving, I could not quite work out what he was saying. My brain was running ahead of itself. I was thinking back to how, just that morning, I had thought of how life can turn itself around in a heartbeat. How it could all go wrong, or go right or just go.
Bob paused and I focused on him again.
He took a deep breath and said: “It’s Manna. And Pearse.”
Well, at least it wasn’t Mum, or Dad or Darcy . . . but, if he had his most serious face ever on, it still wasn’t going to be good.
“Manna?”
“Well, I took a call from Pearse. He said either we take you off the Dream Dates account or we find another restaurant. He said he can’t work with you any more.”
I felt sick. “But I manage the PR for the restaurant too. He can’t want me to
walk away from that?”
Bob nodded. “Look, Annie, I’m sorry. I know this is tricky and difficult.”
I snorted, and nodded. I was afraid to say anything because I knew that if I did I would cry and I so didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of Bob.
“But I have to protect the interests of NorthStar and both these clients put a lot of money our way. I could keep you on, but we would lose business and in the current climate that would be suicidal. There are other clients who are more than happy with your work and they remain yours – but Manna and Dream Dates, I’m sorry. I’m going to have to reassign them.”
I thought back to Friday – how Pearse had agreed with me that business was business and that we could work together. Something had obviously happened to make him change his mind – and maybe it had been naïve of me to think that he would be happy for things to continue as they had been.
But this was my job – my career. Manna was the biggest client on our books. There was a certain prestige in managing their PR – in fielding calls from admiring journalists looking for fifteen minutes with Pearse, or a free meal for a review. I had worked my ass off to make sure the restaurant was one of the most high profile, not only in the city but throughout the North. It was for nothing though. It was being taken away from me and I had to suck it up or leave my job. I would have to turn in a few minutes and walk out of Bob’s office and look at my colleagues and then they would receive an email telling them that I was leaving the Manna portfolio behind to concentrate on promoting hugely overpriced skin-care products and a shop run by two sex-addicts with a desire to swear at every given opportunity.