The WWW Club

by Anita Notaro

  “Dark gray.”

  “Would this be it, by any chance?”

  “By George, it would. Gordon, I thought you said you checked?”

  “I did, but you told me it was fawn.”

  “No, I threw that one out years ago.”

  “Sorry.” His smile was angelic.

  “Please forgive my son, he’s just so busy …”

  “No problem at all.” She was out of here.

  “Thank you very much, I’m so sorry to have taken up your time, it’s just, he was getting agitated and I’m never sure … what to do.” Add helpless little boy where women are concerned to that list, Toni thought. He was so smooth she felt like throwing up all over his Armani suit. Although secretly she liked the attention.

  “Pleasure.” She shot him a “don’t try that with me again” look and made her exit. He followed her.

  “I was wondering, eh, Toni,” he read her name badge, pointedly.It was pathetic, he’d known her name for weeks. “You mentioned you were off duty and I’m just meeting a couple of people in the Berkeley Court. Would you like to join us, by any chance?”

  “I’m sorry, I have another appointment.”

  “Some other time, then?”

  “Maybe.”

  She smiled sweetly and sashayed off down the corridor, treating him to a good old bum swagger.

  “Give me your number and I’ll contact you to arrange,” he called after her.

  “I have yours on your father’s chart. Why don’t I call you?”

  “Eh, better take my mobile, I’m not often home.” He looked like he’d played this game many times.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave a message with your wife.”

  Sixteen

  Pam was working late on Friday night, something she normally detested. But tonight was OK, the desk had been quiet all day and she was off for the next three days. Bliss. Their particular branch was now open twenty-four hours and Pam lived in fear of being asked to work nights. According to Vera—their cleaning lady who knew everything and should have retired ten years ago except she claimed she was still only sixty—the place was full of drunks and weirdos. “Who else would go shopping for toilet cleaner when they could be tucked up in bed drinking hot chocolate and listening to Val Joyce on Late Date?” she asked no one in particular as she mopped the loo floor.

  “Insomniacs?” Irene from toiletries suggested.

  “They’re very strange too, don’t you think, love?” Vera mopped Irene out of the way. No one could think of an answer to that, really.

  Anyway, Pam refused to worry about anything tonight as she sat enjoying her last coffee break of the day with a couple of the other girls. They were telling Pam how great she was looking. Every one of them received daily updates with a blow-by-blow account of the WWW Club.

  “You know, in a way I think it was turning forty that did it,” Pam told them. “For a while, I felt really old, started buying big jumpers, the sort that make you feel special simply because they cost a fortune and then have to be treated like purebred sheep. You know the kind—the ones that have to be hand washed in soap flakes, wrapped in cotton wool and dried flat away from direct sunlight then reshaped while damp and ironed on the reverse.” They all nodded, although none of them had a clue what she was on about. “Then, I couldn’t decide what to do with my hair, was it too long, too curly, too colored? I mean, there’s a very thin hair line between funky and Cher.” The others all sympathized. This they knew about.

  “Well, we should all take a leaf out of Dot’s book,” Marjorie, a glamorous, if slightly too denim-clad fifty-something told them.

  “What’s she done now?”

  “She’s left her husband and handed in her notice.” Marjorie was delighted that she had the goss first.

  “No!”

  “Yep, apparently she’s bought herself a two-carat diamond ring and is studying to teach Pilates. She looks amazing. Did you see her this morning, wearing no bra and a miniskirt?”

  “But she’s forty-three.” Eileen from the deli counter was horrified. “It takes me all my time to keep my boobs from looking like an extension of my waist and that’s only with the help of a gel-filled bra.”

  “And you all know how long it takes to recover from a night on the town, never mind an exercise class.” Pat from bleaches and polishes was on a roll.

  “Well, apparently she’s having an affair with Mr. Ahern from wines and spirits.” Marjorie delivered the final bit of juice.

  “I don’t believe you, he’s barely thirty!”

  “So what? More power to her.” Pam was thrilled. “What exactly are we saving ourselves for, girls? I still regret the fact that I turned down Dave the fishmonger at the office bash last year.”

  “Ugh, he smells of smoked cod.”

  “I could have pegged my nose, he has a great body, works out every second day and is a kick boxer.”

  “All I know is it’s getting harder. I’m now opting for the dearest moisturizer in the chemist and I’ve been buying all those good one-piece underwear things in the sale in Arnotts recently.”

  They all agreed you needed all the help you could get once you hit the big 4-0 and were still moaning as they prepared to finish their shift. Pam decided to give that exercise class another go and was feeling really quite pleased with herself as she paid for some salady things and headed home at ten.

  “Dad called.” Andrew barely looked up as she put away the few healthy bits in the fridge.

  “Oh?” She was immediately on the alert.

  “He wants you to call him.”

  “Why?”

  “Dunno.” He’d already lost interest.

  Pam changed into her comfy dressing gown, made a cup of tea and wondered whether to put it off till the following day. Talking to her ex-husband rarely cheered her up. Stephen Fortune only asked to speak to her when he wanted something. After they’d separated five year ago he’d moved to New York where he had a trendy apartment and an even trendier girlfriend. Ronnie or Minnie or something. Pam called her Winnie, actually, Winnie the Whinger, because any time she answered the phone she sort of whined like an animal in pain. She also talked through her nose.

  After a long drawn-out few months all those years ago they’d reached a compromise about the boys, greatly helped by the fact that he’d moved abroad. He paid regular maintenance, although not a huge sum, and visited twice a year. He called every couple of weeks and she rarely spoke to him but she knew he kept in touch with the boys by e-mail. She supposed it worked, although she was still bitter that he’d opted to get out of the home suddenly because he felt “restless and hemmed in,” leaving her with two boys—one just about to start school—and a hefty mortgage. Mind you, when she found out he’d had two affairs under her nose she almost kicked him as far as America. Her confidence had never really recovered, especially as one of his affairs had been with a so-called friend. Still, at least she didn’t have anyone breathing down her neck to lose weight anymore, although come to think of it, Toni was doing a good job of it with all of them these days.

  Checking the time in New York, she dialed quickly, determined not to let him spoil her precious weekend.

  “Hi, it’s me. You were looking for me?” They had never been into small talk.

  “Yeah, hi. How are you?”

  “Fine. Tired. Just in from a long day.” He got the message.

  “I was just wondering if the boys could spend Christmas with me this year?”

  “What?”

  “Well, they’ve never been over and I have a long break and they have two and a half weeks off school.” So they’d already discussed it.

  “You’ve talked to them about this? Without checking with me first?” She could feel her voice straining.

  “Calm down.” She hated it when he said that, he’d been doing it since the day they married. “I only asked them about their time off, nothing else.”

  “They’ve always spent Christmas with me.” End of story.


  “I know that, it’s just that I miss them and I realize they’re growing up fast and I … I want to be part of their lives.”

  “What you mean is, they’re easier, less hassle, more civilized.” She didn’t like her voice. “You can show them off now.”

  “Why the hell do you always have to start a row?”

  “They’re not going.”

  “I think you should at least discuss it and see what they think.”

  She knew she had no choice. If she didn’t he would.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He took a deep breath. “Thank you.” Rhonda had warned him to stay cool. “It’d be a great experience for them.”

  “I’ll call you next week. No, on second thoughts you call me in a couple of days. I’m fed up with huge phone bills.”

  “Fine.”

  “Bye.”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  Pam felt tension grip the back of her neck and wandered slowly upstairs to run a hot bath. She’d always known he’d want them sometime.

  Seventeen

  “Anyone seen the column today? My local shop was sold out of papers.” Ellie made a face. “I hate it when I miss my little breakfast treat on Saturdays.”

  “Wasn’t in today. It was someone else writing about reindeer meat. At the bottom it said he was “away.” God, I hate brown toast. It’s like nibbling on the sole of a shoe.” Pam was not in a good mood.

  “What’s up?” Toni was tucking into fresh fruit with low-fat organic crème fraîche. They were having a healthy brunch instead of lunch, on their way to a “toning without moaning” class.

  “Stephen wants the boys to go to New York for Christmas.”

  “Wow, great for them.” Maggie, usually so tactful, took one look at her friend’s face and backtracked. “I mean, it would be educational, I suppose, although it never did anything for me at that time of year. All those crowds and slushy pavements.”

  “How do you feel?” Ellie asked warily.

  “Pissed off, to be honest. Suddenly they’re becoming civilized and he wants to show them off.” She was getting into her stride, they could feel it. “He’s hardly seen them over the last five years. Where was he when Paul had chicken pox and Andrew was wearing braces and being bullied at school? Between the legs of the fucking whining hyena, that’s where.” It was classic Pam fighting talk.

  They all laughed nervously.

  “Speaking of loud-mouthed, over-dressed types with new money and fat cigars …” Toni intervened when no one said anything else.

  “Stephen is not loud-mouthed and he doesn’t smoke.” Pam had no idea why she was defending him.

  “No, I was talking about Gordon Thornton. Actually, I’m being unfair, he’s not that loud and his clothes are impeccable, but he’s definitely new money. Anyway, he tried it on again last night. This time he even took the trouble to read my name off my badge.” Toni decided it might be a good time to change the subject. Besides she got bored with Pam’s troubles sometimes.

  “G & T? Again? Do tell.” Maggie used their code name, they knew all about fabulously rich Gordon the gregarious.

  “Actually, I’m beginning to secretly admire him. He’s got balls, I’ll say that for him. Didn’t even flinch when I said I’d call him at home.”

  “I’d say his wife is too doped up on pills and gin to even realize what he’s up to.” Ellie had a thing about him and he’d been giving Toni the eye for months now. They both seemed to enjoy the sparring.

  “How can you possibly make an assumption like that about his wife?” Pam was astonished. “You’ve barely heard of him, let alone her.”

  “I know, you’re right, I’m just being a bitch.” Ellie felt guilty. “I just don’t like the sound of him.” She turned to Toni. “And you,madam, are enjoying this game far too much for my liking.” She gave her friend what she hoped was a disapproving-mother look.

  “You know something, I haven’t had a date for months and I could maybe put up with him if he was dynamite in bed and bought me fabulously expensive presents.” Toni had a glint in her eye.

  “You wouldn’t!” Maggie wasn’t sure whether she was horrified or jealous.

  “Why not? I know he’s not ‘the one’ but I’m getting pretty fed up waiting around.”

  “But it’d be like getting paid for sex.” Ellie didn’t like the image it conjured up. Besides, she still felt sure Gordon was fat and slimy and lecherous.

  “Listen, is there anyone here who hasn’t had sex for no reason at some point in their lives and regretted it afterward?”

  “Nope.” Pam was first to admit.

  “But at least there was some connection at the time …” Ellie didn’t want to believe otherwise.

  “A bottle or two of wine was the only connection, I’d say, so don’t go all self-righteous, Ellie. Anyway, I like him, he’s funny, charming and rich and at the moment I’m only talking about dinner.”

  “And married,” Maggie added.

  “Well, I’m only in this for the short term, if I’m in it at all. His wife is not losing anything because of me. And remember, I’m not the one doing the chasing.”

  “Just don’t get hurt.” Ellie knew her friend really wanted a relationship.

  “I won’t. Anyway, I’m bored with him. What about your great romance with Da, Maggie, how’s that going?”

  “Good, I’m going to meet his parents tomorrow afternoon.Speaking of which, fuck, I need a cake that looks as if I made it myself. Apparently, Mummy loves homemade buns.”

  “Buy an apple tart and I’ll disfigure it for you—we can dredge it with too much icing sugar and burn a few apple bits and stick them to the sides.” Pam had abandoned the toast and was eating a croissant. “But, more importantly, what’s he like?”

  “Really nice, actually. A bit old-fashioned in a good sort of way. Very kind, good sense of—”

  “I meant in bed.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “So you haven’t done it?”

  “No, and that’s what I like. He’s taking it easy and it suits me.”

  “Are you sure he’s not gay? He doesn’t want sex with you and he loves his mammy, that sounds familiar.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve had some great snogs.”

  “Has he put his hand up your jumper even?”

  “What’s all this about, you shower of bitches? Get off my case. I told you, he’s a gentleman and I’m enjoying it.”

  “Good for you. I wouldn’t mind a nice reliable guy myself for a change.” Ellie sounded wistful. “I’m fed up spending Saturday nights on the couch watching The American President or something similar.”

  “Ugh, isn’t that Michael Douglas? What a jerk.”

  “Yes, but Annette Bening is great. Imagine having a date with the President of the United States, and she’s so down-to-earth and not at all, you know, sexy or especially attractive.”

  “She’s a dog,” Pam said with her mouth full.

  “If she’s a dog, then the rest of us are alligators. I think she’s quite pretty,” Maggie said. “Mind you, the movie sucks.”

  That started a huge discussion about dates and their lack of anything vaguely resembling one and Toni reminded them yet again that whoever lost half a stone first got three blind dates, which cheered them all up except Pam, who knew she’d no hope of getting there.

  The exercise class was horrific. It was full of high-bottomed thirty-somethings in designer gear wearing no make-up and glowing. The girls felt like spitting. The instructor was a cute guy, though, and they all cheered up until he took off his track-suit jacket and opened his mouth. They couldn’t decide which was worse, his “I love Mum” tattoo or his accent. His gold identity bracelet and signet ring didn’t help, either. “Right, yis are all very welcome.” That was the only Dublin bit they heard, and it was very Dublin. “Yo, y’all, let’s tone those tums and get with the groove.” He put on sunglasses and hit a button and 50 Cent blasted out at 1,000 decibels. “I
said shake it, sisters.” He did what appeared to be an updated version of Michael Jackson’s Moonwalk and clapped his hands. “Can you hear me, Dublin?” He pretended he had a mic in his hand. “I said, can you heaaaaaaar me?”

  Ellie looked around. There were about ten other people in the room and they were all going along with this.

  “Kick it out, two three four. Slap your thigh, two three four. Come on, y’all at the back, shake your booty, I said shake it, baby.” They were mortified, but they shook it.

  Fifty minutes later he reverted to type. “Deadly buzz. See yis all again. Tanx.” He blew a bubble with his gray gum. Pam almost fell over in her haste to get to the changing room. The girl on her left had barely broken a sweat.

  Once they’d recovered they were laughing so much that they just had to go for more coffee and bitch about it all, as usual.

  Ellie chilled out on Sunday, although calling in to see her mum and dad couldn’t be termed relaxing. Toni phoned her on her mobile just as she was leaving.

  “Where are you? I was going to drop round. I got a present of some moisturizer that I thought you might like.”

  “Another dead housemate?” Ellie was referring to the nursing home.

  “Yeah. I must look as if I have really bad skin. The families keep giving me antiaging creams as thank-you presents. This one’s Clarins and I know you use it.”

  “Great, thanks.” Toni was always sharing. “Only I’ve just left my folks and I’m on my way to see Olga.”

  “Oh, how did that go?” Toni had often wondered how kind, scatty Ellie had survived growing up in a house full of misery gutses.

  “Well, Dad’s in great form, which is something. Mum is fighting with everybody—the ESB because she says her electric meter is a fire hazard, Bord Gáis because she’s convinced they’re robbing her with charges on her gas fire, and she has about ten other items on her hit list. Sadly for me, she insists on telling me about them in great detail each time I phone or visit. After about an hour Orla called, so I made my excuses. They were having a good moan together over a cup of tea and planning revenge on some poor unfortunate gas fitter as I left.”