Some Girls Do

by Murphy, Clodagh

  ‘Thanks.’ She had bought a new dress especially for the occasion. ‘I won’t be late,’ she said.

  ‘Be as late as you like,’ Espie said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be waiting up for you.’ She was sitting at the kitchen table, but Claire noticed that she sounded breathless, and there was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke.

  ‘Mum, are you okay?’ Claire asked, crossing to her and peering into her face.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Espie said, but there was a definite wheeze in her voice that struck fear into Claire’s heart.

  ‘You don’t sound too good.’ She sat at the table, putting a hand over her mother’s. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go out.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I just overdid it a bit today.’ Nancy and Michael had taken her to the Japanese Gardens in Kildare. ‘It’s probably all the fresh air, making me tired. I’ll take it easy for the night and I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I can easily cancel. Mark won’t mind.’

  ‘After coming all the way over from London just to see you? You are not cancelling on him.’

  Claire thought. Maybe she could ask someone to come over. Neil and Michelle never went out on a Saturday. Maybe one of them could—

  ‘And before you even think it,’ Espie said, ‘you are not setting Michelle on me. I’ll be grand. If the worst comes to the worst, I have the panic button.’ She pointed to the medical-emergency necklace she always wore.

  ‘Call me before it comes to that.’

  ‘I will. But I’m feeling better already,’ she said, and her voice did sound stronger. ‘Go on, you’re not getting out of your date that easily, my girl.’

  ‘Okay. But promise you’ll call me if you feel at all wobbly.’

  ‘I promise.’ Espie patted her hand. ‘Now go – enjoy yourself, and stay out as late as you want to. Don’t come home at all, if you like.’

  ‘Mum! I will be home.’

  ‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ Claire said to Mark, as they were seated in the restaurant. ‘I can’t believe you came over just for one night.’

  ‘You’re worth it.’ His eyes glittered as he gazed at her. ‘You look gorgeous.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Claire blushed. ‘So do you,’ she said shyly. If she wasn’t worried about her mother, she would have gone to his hotel room with him tonight if he’d asked her. She wanted badly to kiss him, and she could have made out with him without worrying that he would expect sex. It probably wasn’t helping that she hadn’t seen Luca all week. Maybe in future she should have a session with him to take the edge off before going out with Mark – like eating before going to a party.

  But, as it was, she would be going straight home. She was finding it hard to relax. She had placed her phone on the table. She didn’t normally do that as she considered it rude, but she didn’t want to risk missing a call from her mother.

  ‘I read your latest blog post,’ Mark was saying. Claire detected a slight hesitancy in his tone that made her wary.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah. I must admit, I was kind of …’

  ‘You didn’t like it?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘No, I enjoyed it. I was just a bit … disappointed, I suppose.’

  ‘Disappointed?’ Oh, crap! Did he like threesomes? Had he thought she’d be up for that? It wouldn’t really be surprising, considering some of the things she’d written about. Thank goodness she hadn’t said she was into them. ‘You – you like threesomes?’ she asked, trying hard to sound blasé about it.

  ‘No!’ he gasped, laughing. ‘Christ, no – not at all. I mean, not that I’ve ever—’

  ‘Yeah, me either.’ Then she remembered she had written about having enjoyed group sex, and she blushed.

  ‘So, was it the writing?’ she asked. She was so relieved that it wasn’t the threesome thing that she didn’t even mind. ‘We wouldn’t have to include that one in the book.’

  ‘No, the writing was fine – I really liked it. I was just …’ He hesitated. Then he sighed and said, ‘It’s silly, but – I just thought I might get a mention.’

  ‘Oh!’ It had never occurred to her that he would expect her to write about him, but of course it made sense. He thought she was writing about real people all the time.

  ‘Sorry, I know it’s stupid.’ He shifted awkwardly, glancing away. ‘I mean, we haven’t even got to the fifth date yet.’

  ‘Well, you know all the people I write about on my blog aren’t necessarily real.’

  ‘I know, but … the Artist is real, and I know you’re seeing him at the moment. So I thought …’

  ‘Oh.’ The realisation that he was jealous took Claire by surprise. It had never occurred to her that he might be. ‘It’s different with you—’ She stopped, not sure how to explain why it was different. She couldn’t tell him he was the only real person she’d ever be writing about – apart from Luca. But she wanted him to understand because she couldn’t see herself ever writing about him, even after they’d started sleeping together.

  ‘How so?’ he asked.

  ‘Well … for one thing, because you know about the blog,’ she said, finding her excuse. ‘Those other guys didn’t, so I knew they wouldn’t read it – or if they did by some chance come across it, they wouldn’t know it was me writing it. I’m not anonymous with you, and I’d feel weird writing about you when I know you’re going to be reading it.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ he said. Then he tilted his head to the side, considering. ‘I tend to forget how different you are from your alter ego.’

  Not for the first time, she hoped he didn’t find her a disappointment compared to the ballsy NiceGirl. ‘It’s easier to be upfront online,’ she said. ‘Especially when no one knows who you are.’

  ‘You said “for one thing”. Was there another?’

  Claire took a deep breath. It was time to be honest with him – at least partly. ‘Well, because I feel like we – what we have – it’s different from anything I’ve had before. I think it could be … more. I mean, I’d like it to be more.’ She held her breath as she waited for his reaction, afraid she might have blown it.

  ‘I’d like that too,’ he said easily, and Claire exhaled. She should have known Mark wouldn’t be scared off. She had been spending too much time around Luca. She was starting to expect all men to be commitment-phobes.

  Their eyes locked and his expression changed to something more intense.

  He was the first to look away. ‘About that,’ he said, fiddling with his coffee spoon. ‘I’m not seeing anyone else, and if we’re going to do this …’

  ‘Oh! Yes.’ Claire blushed. ‘I see what you mean.’

  ‘I know it’s difficult in a long-distance relationship, and maybe I’m not as evolved as I should be but, like I said, I’m not good at sharing.’

  ‘No, I feel the same. I wouldn’t want to see anyone else either. I mean, I’m not really seeing anyone now—’

  ‘Except the Artist?’

  ‘Well, yes. But that’s – it’s a limited-time thing. It’ll be over soon.’

  ‘Really?’ He seemed pleased.

  ‘Yes. It’ll definitely be finished by the time we have our fifth date.’

  Claire had tried to ignore her phone over dinner and give her full attention to Mark, but she jumped now when she heard her ringtone. She was relieved to realise it was coming from the next table. But it put her on edge, and she glanced anxiously at her phone throughout the rest of the meal. The problem was, she knew her mother didn’t want to be a burden and ‘put a stop to her gallop’, as she would have said, so she didn’t really trust her to call, except in the most dire circumstances, and she was worried she would leave it too late.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Mark asked, as their plates were cleared away. ‘You seem a bit agitated.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just – I’m worried about Mum. She seemed a bit under the weather this evening. Actually, I was going to cancel—’

  ‘God, you should have said.’

  ‘She insisted she
was fine and I should go out, but … Sorry, do you mind if we cut this short? I can’t relax.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Mark was already signalling to a waiter for the bill.

  ‘I feel awful,’ Claire said apologetically, though at the same time she was relieved. ‘When you’ve come all this way and you’re just here for one night …’

  ‘It’s fine, honestly.’ Mark placed a wad of notes in the leather folder and told the waiter to keep the change. Then they got up to go.

  ‘You can come back with me for coffee, if you like,’ Claire told him, as they left the restaurant.

  ‘I can?’

  ‘My mother will be there, obviously.’

  ‘Well, as long as she wouldn’t mind …’

  ‘No! Not at all – she’d love it. I just thought I should warn you …’

  ‘No hanky-panky?’

  Claire laughed. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m bringing you home to meet my mother. We just happen to live together.’

  ‘I’d love to meet your mother,’ Mark said. ‘And I’d like to have more time with you.’

  Claire briefed him in the taxi. ‘My mother doesn’t know anything about my blog or the book deal. As far as she’s concerned, you’re someone I met on the Internet – which is true, if you think about it.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And don’t let her know we came back because I was worried.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Claire touched his hand. ‘Thank you for doing this.’

  ‘No problem.’ He gripped her fingers and she smiled at him gratefully.

  The lights were still on downstairs when they arrived at the house.

  ‘You’re home early,’ her mother called from the living room, over the sound of the TV, as they stepped into the hall.

  ‘Hi.’ Claire stuck her head around the door. ‘We decided to come back here for coffee.’

  ‘Oh!’ Espie sat up, turning off the TV with the remote.

  ‘Mum, this is Mark,’ she said, as he followed her into the room. ‘Mark, this is my mum.’

  ‘Hello,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Kennedy.’

  ‘Call me Espie.’ She smiled at him. ‘Sit down,’ she said, patting the sofa beside her.

  ‘Espie – that’s a nice name,’ Mark said, as he sank into the sofa. ‘Very unusual.’

  ‘It’s short for Esperanza.’

  ‘Oh, like Oscar Wilde’s mother? Wasn’t that her name?’

  ‘Close,’ Espie said. ‘She was Speranza. But that was just her pen name.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mark, but I hope you didn’t come home early on my account,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Claire suspiciously.

  ‘No, we just thought it would be nice to have coffee here,’ Claire said innocently. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘Well, don’t count me in,’ Espie said, getting up. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I was about to go anyway when you came in. Night, love,’ she said to Claire. ‘Bye, Mark. I’m sure we’ll meet again some time.’

  ‘Yes, I hope so. Goodnight.’

  ‘So – coffee?’ Claire said to Mark, when they were alone. ‘Or would you like another glass of wine?’

  He leant back against the sofa, looking at her speculatively. ‘Come here,’ he said, patting the sofa beside him. His eyes were hooded and heavy.

  Claire sat beside him and he put an arm around her. ‘I’m glad your mother’s okay,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry we had to leave early.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  He nuzzled her face, and then they were kissing – long, slow kisses at first, but then it became urgent and grabby and they were lying face to face on the sofa making out like teenagers while Claire’s mother slept upstairs.

  ‘Claire,’ Mark panted into her mouth, as she pulled his shirt out of his waistband, ‘can I ask you something?’

  ‘Mm.’ Her fingers wriggled underneath to touch hard, warm flesh.

  ‘Do you ever break the rules?’ He lifted her leg to hitch it across his, and Claire gasped as she felt his erection against her.

  ‘Sometimes.’ She wanted nothing more right now than to forget about the five-date rule and have Mark inside her, right here on the living-room sofa. But she wasn’t ready for that yet. ‘But never my own rules,’ she said.

  Mark stilled, leaning his forehead against hers, his breath hot on her face. ‘I think I’d better get a cab, then.’ His weight lifted off her and he sat up, running a hand through his hair.

  Claire struggled upright beside him, adjusting her clothing. ‘I’ll call one for you.’

  They kissed at the door when the taxi arrived, then Claire went up the stairs to bed. She couldn’t wait for the fifth date. But in the meantime, she thought, opening the drawer in her nightstand, this would be a good time to get in some practice with her vibrator.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘Ooh, you look very fancy, Luca,’ Jula said, as he emerged from the house the following Saturday. It had been a beautiful day, and Jula and Danuta, the thin, almost translucently pale Polish girls who shared the basement flat, were sitting on the front steps enjoying the last of the evening sunshine and sharing a bottle of wine.

  ‘Where are you going? Big date?’

  ‘Party.’ He sat down on the step above them, placing his gift-wrapped parcel beside him. ‘It’s my sister’s birthday.’ He tilted his face towards the sun and closed his eyes, trying to relax. There was still warmth in the evening air.

  ‘You want a glass of wine?’ Danuta asked. He opened his eyes to find her waving the bottle at him.

  ‘No, thanks,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Claire will be picking me up in a few minutes.’ It was still only seven fifteen, but he had been ready far too early, and he had become increasingly twitchy and anxious as he waited for her. When he couldn’t handle any more antsy pacing around his flat, he’d decided to come down and wait outside.

  ‘Ah, your girlfriend?’ Jula smiled. ‘She’s pretty.’

  Luca smiled. ‘Yeah, she is pretty. But she’s not my girlfriend.’

  Jula and Danuta shared knowing smiles, but said nothing, and went back to their conversation.

  Luca checked his watch again, but only a minute had passed. It was ridiculous how nervous he felt, but he really didn’t want to go to his parents’ house. He wouldn’t do it for anyone but Ali. Still, for her sake, he would grit his teeth and endure it. He would even try to be pleasant and play the part of the loving and beloved son. As if he knew fuck all about that!

  At least Claire would be with him, he thought. It wouldn’t be so bad with her there. In a way, he was almost looking forward to it. He liked the idea of his mother seeing him with Claire, this lovely, kind, decent girl who cared about him – even if it was just as a friend because her heart belonged to Mr Perfect. Childishly, he thought he could prove Jacqueline wrong, demonstrate to her that he was lovable, with Claire as his evidence. He knew it was twisted, but he wanted to highlight his mother’s inadequacies by flaunting Claire in front of her, so that she would finally realise: ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’

  Claire pulled up almost on the dot of seven thirty.

  ‘Goodnight, girls,’ Luca said to his neighbours, grabbing his parcel as he jumped up. He bounded over to the car. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’ He smiled at Claire as he slid in beside her.

  ‘Hi.’ She turned to him. ‘You look lovely.’

  ‘So do you.’ He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She smelled amazing. ‘I wish we could blow out this party and just drive off somewhere together,’ he said on an impulse.

  ‘You couldn’t do that to your sister. She’d be so disappointed.’

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t. But I’m really glad you’re coming.’

  ‘Well, I’m the one with the car and the beer money,’ she quipped. Then she blushed. ‘Sorry,
that sounded awful. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘I know.’ He wasn’t offended. He knew she’d only said it because she couldn’t take a compliment and laughing it off was a reflex with her. ‘Anyway, it’s free booze. But I don’t think I could face it on my own,’ he said seriously, taking her hand. ‘So thank you.’ He kissed her knuckles.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, and he was glad that for once she had simply accepted that he was happy to have her with him.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, starting the engine. ‘I think I know my way to Dalkey village, but you’ll have to give me directions from there.’

  Claire usually avoided routes she didn’t know well, and she hadn’t driven to Dalkey very often. It wasn’t helping her concentration that Luca was fidgety and restless, constantly shifting around in his seat, tapping his fingers on the dash or jiggling his legs. She tried to ignore him and focus on where she was going.

  ‘It’s so beautiful out here,’ she said, as they drove along the coast road, glancing at the perfect blue sea dotted with coloured sails. Summer had arrived at the beginning of June and seemed set to stay, with unbroken sunshine and soaring temperatures. Everywhere people were out enjoying the weather, playing games, strolling along with ice-creams, or sitting outside bars and restaurants under bright awnings, their high-spirited chatter and laughter drifting through the car window.

  ‘Mm,’ Luca agreed distractedly, seeming oblivious to his surroundings. ‘We’re almost there. Turn right here.’ He pointed to a narrow road climbing away from the sea front and directed her along a hilly, twisting road lined with massive, gated houses. ‘This is it,’ he said, indicating a set of wrought-iron gates standing open to the left. The tree-lined gravel drive sloped towards the sea, turned right and opened out onto a paved area to the side of a tall double-fronted house.

  ‘Wow!’ Claire breathed, as she parked beside a black BMW. She couldn’t believe this was where Luca had grown up. ‘This is an amazing house,’ she said, peeping at him warily. He had gone very quiet.

  He shrugged in reply and removed his seatbelt, but made no move to open his door. His agitation seemed to have been replaced by gloom, and she sensed he was reluctant to get out. She touched his leg, giving him a reassuring smile.