Mr Right for the Night (6 page)

Anna gave her a huge smile. ‘Would you ever get
a good spot in the window for that new flowery skirt
– you know the hideous one with the flowers?’

‘Oh yes.’ Bridget nodded solemnly.

‘Maybe you could dress it up with one of our
catchy tops?’ Anna said hopefully.

‘Catchy tops?’

Anna was delighted to find Bridget looking as
bewildered as she felt. ‘I trust you, Bridget.’ She
gave her an encouraging wink.

Oh the joys of delegation! Anna didn’t have time
to be fretting over ridiculous-looking garments. It
was mad putting stuff like that in the window. It
would scare your granny so it would. If you put
up a
Pickpockets are Welcome
sign, you’d probably
draw in more punters. Anyway she had to sort out
this whole mess she’d got herself into, namely Steve
(or Stephan) and this mademoiselle from Paris. The
more she thought about it, the more she wished she’d
told him straightaway. That Claudine was coming
this weekend. This weekend! The timing couldn’t be
worse. If she didn’t tell him at all then he might go
home to Kilkenny and Anna could answer the door
and tell her he’d emigrated or something. Could she
live with the guilt? Probably. Could she risk the fact
that he might find out and hate her for ever? No.
Then again, she’d be doing Claudine a favour.

He wasn’t worthy of her love. Or a £159 return
ticket. He’d cheated on her, for God’s sake. He’d do
it again
if Anna had anything to do with it
.

Claudine must be stopped. She mustn’t make that
wasted journey. Anna would save her much heartache
in the long run. God, could somebody please
inspire her and tell her what to do?

‘Anna, we’ve got to talk.’ The familiar glint had
disappeared from Steve’s dark eyes.

‘I know,’ she said, aware that the talk mightn’t
be great fun. Men never wanted to talk. Unless of
course it was trying to talk you into the sack. But,
more often than not, when men tried to talk it usually
meant they never wanted to talk again. To you. Or
see you . . . Or snog you. Well, maybe snog you.
Occasionally. If there was nobody else about. But
only if you understood that the snog wasn’t going
to lead to anything else.
Anything more meaningful
.
‘Okay, shoot,’ she told him.

They were sitting in Steve’s flat, which was now
significantly less inviting than it had been the night
of the party. The expression on Kurt Curbain’s black
and white face was painful. Probably as painful as the
look she herself was sporting, Anna thought glumly.

‘Would you like a cigarette?’ He held out a near
empty carton of Marlboro Lights.

‘No thanks,’ she shook her head, ‘I’ll probably
need one more after the talk.’

‘Remember I told you about the girl in Paris?’

‘Vaguely,’ Anna sniffed. ‘As far as I remember you
mentioned her the first night we met, but I don’t
recall any reference after that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Steve stared at the ground. He looked
perfectly stunning tonight. And younger than usual,
but perhaps that was just an illusion. ‘I’m racked
with guilt.’

‘Oh.’

‘She’s coming to Dublin tonight.’

‘Oh.’

‘I only found out this evening. Apparently she
rang on Wednesday but one of the nurses must have
forgotten to give me the message.’

‘Oh.’ It was now Anna’s turn to feel guilty.

‘So . . . God, I hate doing this . . . but we can’t see
each other again.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you hate me for doing this?’

‘No . . . but to be honest it’s a bit silly you telling
me you can’t see me again when I live upstairs.’

Steve gave a short laugh. ‘I know, it does sound
silly.’

‘Right then.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll be off.’

‘Do you mind terribly?’ He looked beautiful. She
wanted to kill him but she was too upset.

‘Mind?’ she shrilled. ‘Mind? I couldn’t give a
shit.’

‘Oh.’ It was Steve’s turn to look hurt.

‘Well, good luck.’ She made for the door.

‘Sorry.’

She closed the door gently. Paused for a moment.
Contemplated going back in and abusing him.

Decided against it. Gave his bicycle an almighty
kick. And stormed upstairs.

The flat was cold. It was always cold. And cheerless.
She didn’t turn on the light. Turning on the
light might be interpreted as a positive action. And
she didn’t feel positive at all. She turned on the little
fan heater and dragged it over to the window. She sat
on the tiny stool there and stared numbly through the
draughty window. The light in Mark’s front room
was on and she could see a table was set. For two.
How nice. And Steve and Claudine would be two
tonight. Also very nice. And she, Anna, would be
one. Eating for one, sleeping as one and feeling
miserable as one.

She had to ring Claire. Claire would be so sympathetic
and wouldn’t say, ‘I told you so.’ She never did.
At least not straightaway. But she couldn’t ring from
the phone downstairs. Not while Steve was still in the
building. God, it was very annoying. She should get
herself a mobile. Even if it did do damage to your ear
and irritated the life out of strangers all around you.
Eventually she heard him leave. It was upsetting to
hear him go. It meant that he wasn’t going to change
his mind and come up the stairs to tell her he’d made
a terrible mistake and beg her forgiveness.

She ran downstairs and rang Claire.

‘He’s gone,’ she wailed.

‘Oh you poor pet.’ Claire sounded appropriately
distraught.

‘It’s so unfair. I thought I was falling in love
with him.’

‘Yes, but you have to remember you didn’t know
him very long,’ Claire reminded her.

‘Will you come out with me for a few consolation
drinks?’

‘I can’t, Anna, I’m in the middle of cooking.
Simon’s got some friends calling round.’

‘Who?’

‘John, Richard and Jake.’

‘All married?’

‘Jake isn’t.’

‘And he’s the ugly one, I suppose.’

‘He’s not bad, I don’t really know him that well.’

‘Can I come round and help out?’

‘You mean . . .’

‘No, I don’t mean just to eat all your food. I’d love
to help out . . . genuinely.’

She wore a black velvet dress to the knee, black
patent shoes with a slight heel, small diamante earrings
and twisted her fair hair into a high ponytail.
She eyed herself doubtfully in the mirror. If these
guys were hotshot traders, they’d probably admire
glamorous, chic-looking women. Anna pulled on her
black wool, full-length coat and wrapped herself in
a grey cashmere scarf. This was about as glamorous
as she got.

Simon nearly died when he saw her standing at
the door.

‘Don’t worry, I’m here to help.’ Anna pushed past
him into the hallway. Simon would be mortified by a
woman showing up on a lads’ night out. Simon was
a man’s man, and although Claire raved about him,
he wasn’t exactly Anna’s cup of tea. Anna was way
too independent for the likes of Simon.

Claire was completely freaking out over chicken
á
la king.

The doorbell rang loudly.

‘Oh God,’ Claire panicked, ‘they’re early. Oh no,
Simon’s gone up to have a shower. You wouldn’t
entertain them in the drawing room, offer them a
drink or something?’

‘No better woman,’ Anna grinned. ‘Do I look
okay? Has my ponytail fallen down or anything?’

‘No, you look fine. Go on, run.’

Anna braced herself at the hall door. She took
a deep breath. Calm, cool and sophisticated – her
image for tonight. She opened the door. A well-built
man of average height with a nicer than average
face, a short haircut and a smile, stood there. He
was holding a plant. He looked mildly confused.

‘Oh you shouldn’t have,’ Anna giggled as she
stretched out her hand to receive the plant.

‘Er . . . this is Simon and . . . ?’

‘Yes, Simon and Claire’s house, only Claire has
been replaced by a younger model called Anna.
'
I’m Anna.’

‘You’re . . .’

‘Joking, yes of course I’m joking. I’m Claire’s best
friend, come in.’

Jake, yes it must be Jake (because he wasn’t wearing
a ring), threw back his head and roared with
laughter.

‘You’re brilliant,’ he yelled enthusiastically. ‘God,
you’d almost got me there, ha ha!’

Anna was delighted. She’d made a good impression
already. She hadn’t meant to be funny. The
thing about the plant had come from nowhere.
Probably something to do with the glass of white
wine she’d gulped down behind Claire’s back.

‘If I’d known you were going to be here I’d have
brought a second plant,’ he laughed.

‘Oh well, next time.’ Anna took his coat. ‘Drink?’

‘Yes, and I smoke too.’

They both laughed.

‘Seriously though, I could murder a G&T,’ he
said.

‘There’s ice in the fridge.’ Claire fingered the
chicken and frowned. ‘It seems to be all right now.’

‘So, where have you been hiding Jake all these
years?’ Anna demanded as she poured a generous
measure of gin.

‘Ah, leave Jake alone, he’s not so bad. Stop being
so sarcastic,’ Claire scolded.

‘I’m not being sarcastic. I’m serious. He’s a good
laugh. He’d be perfect for Victoria’s party. He’d
know Simon so I wouldn’t have to look after him
f
or the evening. Perfect.’

Claire stared at her friend suspiciously. ‘You can’t
be serious. Jake’s not your type at all.’

‘Well, let me be the judge of that.’

‘You’re on the rebound, Anna.’

‘Ah, don’t be daft. Steve – stunning as he was –
lasted little longer than a one-night stand. Besides
he was too immature for me.’

Anna was tired of Claire’s pessimistic attitude,
this firm belief that Anna couldn’t make anything
work with anyone, that she was a walking disaster
with an ‘ABUSE ME’ sign firmly painted on her
forehead. Jake mightn’t be Russell Crowe but he
wasn’t bad.

The doorbell rang again.

‘You get that,’ Anna told Claire, ‘while I bring
Jake his drink.’ There was no point making small
talk with the married ones. They might think she
was charming but who cared? They were taken!

‘Do you know that gin can be a depressant?’ Anna
handed Jake his drink.

‘No way.’

‘Seriously, it’s a medical fact I think. People can
get angry because of gin.’

‘Ah nonsense.’ Jake knocked back half the glass.
He swallowed hard and blinked twice. ‘Get lost,
Fatso.’

Anna stared, completely stunned.

‘Jesus, you’re right,’ he laughed unselfconsciously,
‘It’s having a terrible impact on me.’

Anna gave a surprised laugh. Jesus, that wasn’t
much of a joke. If he’d called her
Bony
or even
Thicko
it wouldn’t have been so bad. But
Fatso
?
No, that was way too rude. That’s what Victoria
had always called her. God, on second thoughts
maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to invite
Jake to Victoria’s. They might gang up on her!