Mr Right for the Night (39 page)

‘I was  only  trying
to  compliment you  but  obvi
ously you’re so unused  to––’

‘There you are, darling.’ Carole suddenly appeared from  nowhere.   She  grabbed   her  husband’s   hand and  squeezed  it  possessively.  ‘I  hope  you’re  not boring  poor   Anna   with   stories   about   how   well your  computer business  is going.  It’s a  dot  com.’ She  winked  at  Anna.  ‘I’m always  telling  him  not to be talking  about  his successful business.  I mean, I’m very much aware  of the fact that  not everybody has  done  as  well as us from  the  old  Celtic  Tiger.’ Another  wink.

‘Don’t worry,’ Anna gave a dangerous smile. ‘We weren’t  talking  about  that  at all. Not  at all.’

‘Oh.’ Carole  looked  completely  put  out.  ‘Er . . . what were you talking  about?’

‘You tell her.’ Anna  grinned  at the pair  of them.

‘I was  just  saying  . . .’  He  began  to  cough  as
Carole’s mouth  set in a hard  straight  line. ‘I was––’

‘I’d better  go off and  mingle,’ Anna  interrupted airily. ‘Don’t ever let it be said that  poor  old Anna was the cause of a lovers’ tiff.’ Hee hee.

‘Were  you  causing  trouble   again?’  Claire   was suddenly  back  with  more  water.   ‘I’m not  sure  if I liked the look  on Carole’s  face just there.’

‘I don’t  blame  her  for  looking   like  that.   You should  have  heard  what  her  saddo  husband  was saying to me. In his dreams!’

‘God,  Carole  doesn’t  seem to  have  caught  such a good catch  after all,’ Claire said after hearing  the nature  of the  conversation. ‘The way  she goes on you’d think she was married  to Mel bloody Gibson.  Actually, speaking of gorgeous  men, have you seen Victoria’s Vincent?’

‘He’s  divine,  isn’t  he?’  Olive  was  back   again.

‘When  God  was  giving  out  looks  he  must  have been  camping  outside  HMV  all  night  to  be  first in the queue,’ she swooned.

Where  was  this  Vincent?  Anna’s  eyes  scanned the  room.  Where  was  this  lovebeast  they  were  all raving  about?   He  couldn’t   be  that   wonderful  if he’d  married  Victoria.   No  indeed,  there  must  be something  wrong  with  his brain,  if not  his looks. Nobody could marry  that  girl unless they were daft in the head.

‘Someone introduce me,’ she demanded. ‘I’m dying to meet this Vinnie fella.’

‘When he passes  next
,  I’ll grab  him,’ Olive  gig
gled.

‘More champagne?’ a fresh-faced  caterer  appeared.

‘I’d love one,’ Alice smiled.

Claire  shot  a warning  look  at  Anna  as she eyed
the tray  longingly.  ‘No  thank  you.’ She spoke  for them both.

‘Meanie,’ Anna  muttered.

‘Have you seen the birthday cake?’ Olive asked.

‘Both Vincent  and  Victoria  were  thirty  last  week. Their  cake  is  amazing.   It’s  got  her  face  and  his face on it.’

‘Oh, wouldn’t  I love to be the one to cut it,’ Anna muttered.

‘Now,  now,’  Alice  wagged  an  accusing  finger,
‘we’ll have none  of that.’

‘Oh,  there’s  Vincent.’  Olive  grabbed   a  passing six-footer  and dragged  him over to the small group.

‘Vincent  pet,  I  want   to  introduce  you  to  a  few people.  You’ve met  Claire,  I know,  but  have  you met Alice?’

Alice and  the tall blond  man  shook  hands.

‘And have you met Anna?’

He  turned. She gave
  a  sharp  cry.  People’s con
versations  drew   to  an  abrupt  halt.   It  was  as  if they  knew  a drama  was  about  to  unfold.  Vincent Reddin  didn’t  react  for  a  second.  He  just  stared, disbelieving, disconnected. For one awful  moment,  Anna   stood   nailed  to  the  deep,   plush,   crimson carpet   in  rigid  shock.  People’s  eyes  were  boring into  her.  This wasn’t  happening to her.  It couldn’t be.

This could  not  be happening to  Anna  Allstone. Things like this did not occur in real life. The silence that hung  between  them  was unbearable.

‘How do you do, Vincent,’ she spoke  eventually, sounding  like ET. ‘Or should  I call you Darren?’

Sharp intakes of breath could be heard from Alice, Olive and  Claire.

‘Is Darren  some kind of stage name or . . . let me see . . . could  it possibly  be short  for Vincent?’ she continued in a dangerous tone  of voice.

‘Listen,  I can  explain,’  Vincent  stammered and reached  out  to touch  her.

‘Get away  from  me!’ she  screamed  and  pushed him away.

She
watched   him  sway.  Somehow he
lost  his balance  and,  to Anna’s horror, fell backwards into the crowd  of guests.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Victoria suddenly appeared out of nowhere, her thin features contorted with surprised  rage.

‘Don’t ask me,’ answered  Anna numbly as if she’d simply been paid  to deliver the lines. ‘He’s the one with the answers.’

‘Well, I don’t know what kind of drugs you are on, Anna Allstone,  but leave my property now without any further  trouble.’

‘Don’t worry, I was just going anyway.’ Anna straightened herself up.  ‘Goodbye,  Victoria.  I hope you  and  your  guests enjoy the rest of the evening. And  goodbye,  Darren,’  she  looked  down  on  him contemptuously as he struggled  to lift himself from the  floor,  ‘or should  I say Vincent?  It’s impossible to know, isn’t it?’

How she turned on her four-inch heels and walked steadily out of that  room with any ounce of dignity, she’d never know.  But walk out with her head held high, she did. And Alice, Olive and Claire followed with  their  partners. And  as  it  transpired later,  so did  many  other  guests  when  they  quickly  realized the party  could
  only go downhill after
that.

But although on the outside,  Anna left Victoria’s house  with  a tiny  piece of pride,  in the  inside  she was  crumbling. She  would  never  be  able  to  face any  of  those  people  ever again.  Without knowing  her side  of  that  story,  they’d  brand  her  as  a  tart and  a home-wrecker.

People wouldn’t  forget  Anna  Allstone  for a very long  time.   To   think   she’d   actually   slept   with Victoria’s  husband. It was too  unbearable to think about.  She sat in silence in the back  of Simon’s car as he drove her to Stillorgan.  She didn’t want to talk about it, she insisted. She pushed Claire’s comforting arm  away, insisting  she was fine. She’d get over it. She had nothing to feel guilty about.  She wouldn’t  have gone near Vincent if she’d known  the truth.  He was  a liar  and  a cheat  and  Victoria  was  welcome to him.

But Anna  hardly  slept that  night.  She lay in the dark, eyes heavy with exhaustion, her stomach  tied up  in heavy  knots.  Thank  God,  she was  going  to England.   She’d  never   come   back,   not   even  for Christmas. At least in England nobody  would know anything   about  her.  No   Darren   over  there.   No
Mark.  No  nobody.  Hot,  hopeless  tears  slid down her cheeks, soaking her pillow. At that very moment, Anna almost  wished  she were dead.

Back in Galway,  Anna  tried  to  lose herself  in her work. She rang  head  office and  assured  them  she was  prepared  to  take
on  this  exciting  and  chal
lenging  role.  They gave he
r ten days to get organ
ized.

Anna  began  to  lose  track   of  time  as  she  shot around Lolta’s  like  a  loose  bullet  trying  to  busy herself, and  after  a while she couldn’t  remember  if it was a Wednesday  or a Thursday.

Thankfully Lolta’s  were  buying  her  plane  ticket and setting  up initial  accommodation for her. Two less things she had to worry  about.

Claire had phoned  several times but Anna hadn’t taken  the  calls.  The  last  thing  she  wanted  was  a bloody  post-mortem on  the  party.  Eventually  she took the phone  off the hook.

The weather was becoming milder and Anna took to walking  the prom  in the evenings. She’d miss the sea when she went to England,  she really would.  It had a huge calming effect on her nerves. Striding up and down the seafront in the evenings she had plenty
of time to relive every minute of the party. One good thing  had  come  out  of  all  this,  she  decided.  She no longer  envied  Victoria  Reddin’s  lavish lifestyle. Money  couldn’t buy happiness,  security  or love. It was  a sorry  substitute  for  a real  life. Anna  hadn’t much,  she admitted, but  at least what  she had  was real. It was real.

Never again  would  she presume  that  rich people had  a better  quality  of life. If she had  millions  of pounds and a sleazeball for a husband, she wouldn’t  want  that package.  Life was enough  trouble.

But was there such a thing as a truly decent man? Or  were  they  all  ratbags   given  half  a  chance?  It was hard to know.  After all, men never introduced themselves  as slimy gits,  did  they?  No,  they  were all  one-woman men  until  you  caught   them  with somebody else. Was it because they were the weaker sex?  That  was  a possibility.  Yeah,  that  was  a real possibility. Because when  you  thought about  it,  if the  most   powerful   man   in  America  was  caught having  ‘sexual  relatio
ns’  with  some  ordinary smit
ten  intern,  what  chance  did  the  average  Joe Soap have?

‘Anna, is that  you? Thank  God  I’ve finally caught you.’

‘Hi, Claire.’  Anna  groaned  inwardly. She didn’t want to talk about the party. She didn’t need therapy  or to be set up with another one of Simon’s friends to ease the pain. 
She was over Darren/Vincent. She
didn’t  give  a  tinker’s  curse  about   him.  Let  him continue   to  be  married   to  his  sad  little  wife  and conduct  his seedy affairs with somebody  else.

The  party   was  the  best  thing  that   could  have happened to her. Else she might have gone through life thinking  happiness  was in the passenger  seat of some  flashy sports  car.  Good  luck  to  the  Reddins and their silly circle of cronies. Anna wouldn’t  want to be them for anything  in the world.

Her career was her own. Nobody had ever handed  her anything.  Her achievements were all due to sheer bloody hard  work.

‘Anna,  I’m just  ringing  to  say that  I’ll miss you dreadfully  when you go over to England.’

‘Ah Claire,  it’s only an hour  away.  I’m not going to the moon,  you know.’

‘I know.’  Claire sounded  all emotional.

‘I’ll probably see you more than  I do now,’ Anna said kindly.

‘Yeah, listen, I know you don’t want to talk about  the party  so I won’t mention  it.’

‘Right,’ Anna  said,  now  kind  of wanting  to talk about   it  since  Claire  wasn’t  pushing  it.  ‘I’m fine about it, honest.’

‘Victoria knows  about  the affair.’

Affair? God,  it sounded  so sordid.  Anna cringed. It sounded like they were doing it in dingy little hotels all around the country.  But that was Dublin for you. Small  place,  small  minds.  People  had  nothing   to do but gossip.  It just showed  how  uneventful  their
own lives were. Affair indeed! An insignificant fling. That’s all it had been.

‘Is she standing  by him?’

‘Yes.’

Of  course  she  is
, Anna  thought scornfully.  She wouldn’t blame
him
. Women like that never blamed their  husbands. It  was  always  the  other  woman.  The  temptress.  Victoria  would  eventually  convince herself that Anna must have got down  on her hands and knees and begged him to give her one. Poor sad Anna Allstone who despite all her achievements, was still some old eejit desperate  for a bit of nookie.

Of  course,  he  would  
swear
  to  Victoria  that  it had meant  absolutely  nothing, that  he’d simply felt sorry  for  Anna  and  that 
nothing
   like  that  would ever happen again. He might even feign a few tears. And  convince  her  that  the  fear  of  losing  her  was killing him.

And of course  Victoria  would  forgive him,  after a few tantrums foll
owed  by a week or two of keep
ing her bedroom door  firmly locked.  Because what would Victoria Red
din
do
, what would she be with
out  her husband? A woman  like that  would  rather  die than  be  left on th
e  already  oversubscribed sin
gle shelf.  That  would  be  a  fate  worse  than  death for  a  woman  whose  life  revolved  around clothes and cocktail parties. Anna sighed. Women  like that made  it  so  much  easier  for  men  to  win  all  the time.  No  wonder  the  world  was  in such  a bloody mess!

‘Ah well, it’s all behind  me now.’

‘So you’re not upset?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’

‘And you’re all set for the big move to England?’

‘My first-class ticket won’t be able to take me there fast enough.’

‘First  class?  They  must  think  highly  of  you  in
Lolta’s.’

‘Well,  it’s  just  as  well  somebody   does,’  Anna replied.

‘And you’re  sure  you’re  not  just  running   away from it all?’ Claire seemed concerned.