by Marian Keyes
In forlorn silence she imagined Clodagh staring adoringly at Marcus and Marcus staring adoringly back at Clodagh. The stillness extended so long that Ted began to think that he was in the clear and that there would be no more questions. Little by little he began to let himself relax – too soon! In a choked voice, Ashling asked, ‘Did they look mad about each other?’
‘Ah, not at all,’ he scoffed, electing not to mention that at the start of his act Marcus had said, ‘This is for Clodagh.’
After they’d been caught in bed by Craig, Marcus had persuaded Clodagh that she might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. He now stayed almost every night, and things had worked out better than expected. The children seemed to have accepted him and there were times – like now – when Clodagh felt everything was in harmony.
They were all gathered around the kitchen table, Molly drawing flowers (actually on the table), Craig doing his homework, assisted by Clodagh, and Marcus working on some gags.
The air was benign with unity and honest endeavour.
‘Hey, Clodagh, can I run this piece by you?’ Marcus asked.
‘Give me ten minutes. I just want to finish helping Craig.’
Some time later Marcus cut in as Clodagh demonstrated for the umpteeth time how to do a big letter Q. ‘Can I show you now, Clodagh?’
‘Ten more minutes, darlin’, then I’ll be right with you.’
Next the kitchen door slammed shut and Clodagh’s head jerked up. What had happened?
A quick scan of those who remained in the kitchen indicated that Marcus had stormed out!
It was seven-thirty on a Thursday evening in late October, and Ashling and Jack were the only people still remaining in the office. Jack switched off his light, closed his office door and stopped at Ashling’s desk.
‘How’re you getting on?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Grand. Just finishing this article on prostitutes.’
‘No, I meant… in general. With the counselling and that? Is it helping?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘As my mother says, time is a great healer,’ he reassured. ‘I remember when my heart was broken I felt I’d never be right again –’
Ashling cut in. ‘You’ve had your heart broken?’
‘And there was you thinking I had no heart at all!’
‘No, but….’
‘Go on, admit it, you did.’
‘I didn’t.’ But she had to look away as a smile curved her hot face. ‘Was it Mai?’ she asked curiously.
‘The woman before Mai. Dee. We were together a long time and she left me, and I eventually got over it. You will too.’
‘Yes, but Jennifer – she’s the counsellor – says it’s not just a broken heart I’m dealing with.’
‘So what are you dealing with?’ And he asked so gently and kindly that she heard herself telling him about her mother’s depression and the mechanisms she’d developed to try and cope with it.
‘Little Miss Fix-it,’ she finished with.
Jack looked utterly stricken. ‘Sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m sorry I ever –’
‘’s OK. It’s the truth.’
‘Is it? Why you carry all that stuff in your bag, why you’re so obliging?’
‘Jennifer seems to think so.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I suppose I agree,’ she sighed.
She didn’t add that Jennifer had also suggested that that was why Ashling had always picked men whom she could organize. And that after an initial burst of angry denial, Ashling had actually agreed with her: she’d been useful to most of her boyfriends from long before Phelim the sweet goofball, right up to Marcus the needy comedian, and she’d enjoyed it.
‘And what does this Jennifer say about your Weltschmerz?’
‘She says it’s better than it was, even if I can’t see it myself. And she says I might get bouts of it in the future, but I can do things to keep it under control. Like doing some voluntary work to help all the other Boos… The ones who weren’t lucky enough to have a Jack Devine!’ she added jokily.
‘Shucks.’ Jack played coy and peeped up from under his lashes at Ashling – then they locked eyes.
Their high spirits faded abruptly, leaving obsolete smirks still loitering on their confused mouths.
Jack recovered first. ‘Christ, Ashling,’ he declared over-jovially, ‘I’m feeling quite emotional! Boo is doing really well over at the station, you know.’
‘You’re good to sort all that out.’ She realized she’d been so fogged up for the past couple of months that she’d never properly thanked him.
‘Don’t mention it!’ They were in danger of another intimate eye-meet. When in doubt, talk about the weather. ‘It’s pissing down outside. D’you want a lift home?’ He placed his palms on her desk and suddenly she remembered him washing her hair. His touch on her skin, the gorgeous, squirmy feelings administered by those big hands, the hard warmth of his body pressed up against hers… Mmmmmm.
‘Er, no,’ she hurriedly recovered herself. ‘I’d better finish this.’
To her surprise he asked, ‘Do you ever go to salsa any more?’
She shook her head. She had no appetite for it. ‘Maybe I’ll go again, you know, when things are…’
‘Could you show me the basics sometime?’
In all honesty, she couldn’t think of anything more unlikely. ‘We’ll have a sushi-and-salsa night,’ she joked.
‘I’ll hold you to it’
As Jack moved off, Ashling asked, ‘How’s Mai doing?’
‘Good, I see her occasionally.’
‘Tell her I said hi. I thought she was great.’
‘I will. She’s going out with a landscape gardener now.’
‘Called Cormac?’ Ashling was flip.
Jack’s face was a picture of awe and horror. ‘How do you know?!’
In the middle of the night Lisa’s phone rang. She bolted awake, her heart pounding. Could something have happened to her dad or her mum? Before she got to the phone, the answering machine picked up and someone began to leave a message.
Oliver. And he sounded even louder than usual. ‘Excuse me, Lisa Edwards,’ he called stroppily, ‘you have changed.’
She picked up the phone. ‘What?’
‘And hello to you too. That day in Dublin when you were playing football with those kids, I said you’d changed and you told me you hadn’t. You lied to me, babes.’
‘Oliver, it’s twenty to five. AM.’
‘I knew it didn’t add up and it’s been bugging me ever since. It’s just clicked. You’re different, babes – not working so hard, being so sweet to those kids – why tell me you’re not?’
She knew why, she’d known the day it had happened, but should she tell him? Oh, why not, what difference could it make?
‘Because it’s too late… To save us,’ she elaborated, when he didn’t speak. ‘Better to say that I’m still the same old control-freak I’ve always been, right?’
Oliver processed this strange logic. ‘Is that your final answer?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK, babes. It’s up to you.’
Ted and Joy were in the video shop.
‘Sliding Doors?’ Ted suggested.
‘No, doesn’t someone have an affair in it?’
‘How about My Best Friend’s Wedding?’
‘The name alone is looking for trouble,’ Joy pointed out.
They eventually settled on Pulp Fiction.
‘Good choice.’ Joy was pleased. ‘No! Bad choice. Very bad choice. Someone is unfaithful! Uma Thurman?’
‘You’re absolutely right,’ Ted said shakily. That had been close. ‘Maybe we should just get The Best of the Teletubbies and be done with it.’
‘No, this is our man.’ Joy yelped with pleasure and swooped down on The Exorcist ’ This won’t upset anyone.’
‘Good,’ said Ted. ‘I couldn’t take a repeat of the last time.’
With the be
nefit of hindsight, Joy had to admit that making Ashling watch Damage had been a mistake. Though two months had passed since she’d found out about Marcus and Clodagh, people having affairs still weren’t exactly her cup of tea.
Back in Ashling’s flat, the three of them clustered in front of the telly, surrounded by wine bottles, corkscrews, sacks of popcorn and acre-slabs of chocolate. To the relief of all, Ashling seemed quite distracted by the film – until the doorbell rang. Immediately her face sparked with involuntary anticipation: she was still hoping for Marcus to make his long-overdue appearance.
‘I’ll go.’ She clambered to her feet and opened the door.
To her surprise, the person who fell in was Dylan. She’d had lunch with him on average once a week for the past couple of months, but this was a first.
‘Hope you don’t mind me calling unannounced.’ He smiled, but something about the volume of his voice and the laziness of his eyes made her realize he was drunk. ‘Look at you, lovely girl.’ He ran a hand over her hair and left a trail of heat from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck. ‘Nice,’ he drawled.
‘Thanks. Come on in, Joy and Ted are here.’
He poured himself a glass of wine and Ashling watched as he effortlessly charmed Joy. That he was dissipated and unravelly made him no less attractive. Just different.
When the video ended, Dylan flicked through the channels until he found something he liked. ‘Spectacular! Casablanca.’
‘I’m not watching any romantic shite,’ Ashling said firmly and Dylan laughed.
‘Aren’t you gorgeous?’ he said warmly.
‘Maybe, but I’m still not watching it.’
‘Gorgeous,’ he repeated. He’d always been full of compliments, but Ashling was aware that tonight’s mood was slightly loaded.
‘Still not watching it.’
‘Well, I’m the holder of the remote!’
‘Not for long, buster.’
In the ensuing scuffle over the remote control, a bottle of red wine got up-ended.
‘Sorry. I’ll get a cloth,’ Dylan said. But when he got to the kitchen, he called, ‘I can’t see any.’
‘I’ve got some old towels in the bathroom.’ Ashling left the room and was rummaging in the bathroom cupboard when his voice right behind her made her jump. Startled, she turned around.
‘Ashling,’ he said.
‘What?’ But already she knew something was up. The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, his extreme nearness was dense with sex.
‘Sweet Ashling,’ he almost whispered. ‘I should have stayed with you.’ This was nothing like the avuncular way he’d treated her for the past eleven years. He touched a finger to her cheek.
I could have him now, she realized. Eleven years on, he could be mine.
And why not? He made her feel beautiful. He always had, even when he was marrying her erstwhile best friend. And she thought he was glorious. She had a curiosity about him, about what it would be like to sleep with him. A hunger which had been stimulated a long time ago and never satisfied.
Her head shuffled a few scenarios. She’d had her legs waxed. She was heartbreak-skinny. She’d love some affection. Some sex would be nice too.
Then, all at once, she didn’t care.
She shoved a towel at him. ‘Get mopping.’
The eyes under the floppy blond hair were surprised, but he did as he was told, then sat beside Joy telling her what was going to happen in the film before it did.
‘Shut up,’ Joy giggled, and when the film ended, she turned to Dylan and said, ‘I’m going home to bed now. You’re welcome to join me.’
His hazel eyes flicked over her then, with a slightly hard smile, he got to his feet. ‘Delighted to.’
Ted and Ashling watched in amazement. Ashling almost thought it was a joke. But when they didn’t appear back around the door after a few minutes she realized it wasn’t.
The following morning Ashling rang Joy at work.
‘Did you sleep with Dylan?’ She thought she’d asked it quietly but everyone in the office instantly jerked their heads up.
‘Too right I did.’
‘I mean, did you have sex with him?’
‘Yes, of course!’
Ashling swallowed hard. ‘What was it like?’
‘Brilliant. He’s gorgeous. Bitter as anything about women, mind, and there’s no way he’ll be ringing me –’ Joy abruptly changed tack. She sounded horrified. ‘Jesus Christ, you don’t mind, do you? I never thought for a second… I thought you were devvo about Marcus and because I hate Clodagh so much…’
‘I don’t mind,’ Ashling insisted.
Do I?
Do you? Most of the office wondered.
Actually, I don’t think I do.
In early December a buyer was found for Lisa and Oliver’s London flat. As the furniture was included in the purchase, all Lisa had to remove were her personal things.
Oliver was away on a shoot the weekend she chose to do so. She could have waited until he was around, but she’d made a deliberate decision not to. She had to let go of him.
Sifting through the remains of their life together was a painful process. But her mum and dad came from Hemel Hempstead to help her. Frankly they weren’t much use, but their bumbling warmth made her feel better. When they were finished they bundled Lisa and her possessions into their twenty-year-old Rover and drove back to Hemel. That night, as a special treat, they booked a table at their local Harvester. In one way, Lisa would have preferred to gnaw off her own head than go there, but in another way, she really didn’t mind.
Ashling arrived at the pub and Ted was already there.
‘Hiya,’ he said. ‘He was there. She was there. They didn’t look mad about each other.’ He’d been at a comedy gig the night before and because Ashling always asked about Marcus and Clodagh, he tried to spare her dignity by delivering a news bulletin.
‘He did some new stuff about children. I reckon he’s only riding Clodagh for the material,’ Ted swaggered. And it was such a patent lie that Ashling was touched to the heart.
‘And apparently,’ Ted warmed to his theme because Ashling seemed to be enjoying it, ‘reading between the lines, I think Dylan is giving Clodagh almost no money, ‘cos Marcus did a gag about his girlfriend’s – sorry.’ He paused to let Ashling wince. ‘About his girlfriend’s ex-husband giving her an allowance that was more of a forbiddance.’
Joy arrived. ‘What are we talking about?’
‘Marcus’s gig last night.’
‘What a dick.’ Joy curled her lip, then put on a goofy voice. ‘I want to dedicate this to Craig and Molly. How wanky is that?’
Ashling’s face bloomed a pale-green colour. ‘He’s dedicating his act to her children?’
In confusion, Joy looked at Ted. ‘I thought that was what you were telling… oh fuck! I’m always putting my foot in it.’
Ashling felt a wash of humiliation, as fresh as the first one. ‘Happy families,’ she observed, trying to sound wry.
‘It can’t last,’ Joy said stoutly.
‘No, they’ll stay together,’ Ashling insisted. ‘Men always stay with Clodagh.’
Then Joy asked a funny question. ‘Do you miss Marcus?’
Ashling considered. She felt many emotions, all of them unpleasant, but in amongst them there was no longer a yearning for Marcus. Anger, yes. And sadness, humiliation and a sense of loss. But she didn’t actually miss him, his company, his physical presence, the way she once had.
*
‘Of course I care about your children!’ Marcus insisted. ‘Didn’t I dedicate my act to the two of them last night?’
‘Well why won’t you read Molly a bedtime story then?’
‘Because I’m busy. I’ve two full-time jobs.’
‘But I’m knackered. It’s impossible to cope with two children entirely on my own.’
‘But you said Dylan was never here anyway, that he was always working.’
‘He wasn’t alw
ays working,’ Clodagh said sullenly. ‘He was often here.’
She handed Marcus an illustrated copy of Little Red Riding Hood, which he refused to take. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to put in an hour on my novel.’
She stared at him long and hard. ‘My marriage has broken up because of you.’
‘And my relationship with Ashling broke up because of you. So we’re quits.’
Clodagh was raging. She didn’t even believe that Marcus had liked Ashling that much, but he insisted he had, so what could she do?
62
And then, taking everyone by surprise, as it did every year, Christmas arrived. All and sundry drank their heads off for most of the month and on the twenty-third of December Colleen’s office closed for eleven days. ‘Compassionate leave,’ Kelvin called it.
Phelim came home from Australia and expressed mild surprise when Ashling wouldn’t sleep with him. Nevertheless he took it well and still gave her the didgeridoo he’d brought for her. Ashling went to her parents for Christmas – an event worthy of comment, as she’d stayed in Dublin with Phelim’s family for the previous five years. Ashling’s brother Owen came home from the Amazon basin and made his mother’s Christmas by not having a plate in his lower lip. Ashling’s sister Janet flew in from California. She was taller, slimmer and blonder than Ashling remembered. She ate a lot of fresh fruit and refused to walk anywhere.
Clodagh spent the day alone. Dylan took the children to his parents and she boycotted her own parents when they said Marcus couldn’t come with her. But at the last minute Marcus decided to spend the day with his parents.
Lisa went to Hemel and was grateful for the fuss her mum and dad made of her. She’d signed and posted the final divorce papers a few weeks before Christmas and still felt ridiculously fragile. The next part of the process was the decree nisi.
*
The night Ashling returned from Cork, she found she had a new neighbour. A blond, wiry boy was huddled in her doorway, tucking into a sandwich and a can of Budweiser.
‘Hiya,’ she said. ‘I’m Ashling.’
‘George.’ He noticed her looking at the can of Bud. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve,’ he said, defensively. ‘I’m having a drink like anyone else.’
