by Anita Notaro
I’d dressed in red today, as per Clodagh’s instructions. Colour is vital – she’d sent me a text earlier that morning. Remember, how you appear is how the world sees you. So I imagined the entire universe now saw me as a tomato – I think maybe I’d overdone it slightly. All this was as a result of several conversations about my disaster with Jason, which Maddy filled Clodagh in on as soon as she opened her eyes the next morning. Clodagh said I needed to build up my confidence, but perhaps a red suit and shirt and shoes and bag were a tad too much. Thanks to my ‘black suits for life’ code of dressing, I’d no idea about colour.
‘Goodness, Lulu, you look cheerful today.’ Susie jumped up and hugged me as soon as she saw me. I had to force myself not to flinch, another hangover from my childhood. My family didn’t do affection.
‘I think I’ve overdone it a bit on the colour.’ I smiled. ‘My friend said I was to wear red . . .’ I felt like a bit of an eejit. ‘I’m, eh, usually quite good at dressing myself actually, but then you can’t go wrong with black and black, I suppose.’ I grimaced.
‘No, red is good,’ Susie stressed. ‘It really goes with your dark hair.’
‘Scrap the suit,’ Bronwyn said in a bored tone. ‘It sucks. Actually, you need a new wardrobe. In fact, I’ll donate a pile of stuff to you, we’ve just had new presses made and I need to de-clutter. I’ve got lots of tops you could wear with black or grey or even white linen trousers. More fluid.’ She saw my confused look. ‘Fluid is good,’ she assured me. ‘And never, ever wear those Mary Jane-type shoes. Your ankles are too thick.’
‘That’s brilliant to know.’ I was delighted. ‘No, it’s OK, honestly,’ I assured poor Susie, who looked as if she was going to throttle her partner. ‘And thank you,’ I smiled at Bronwyn.
‘Pleasure. And I will drop loads of stuff in to you here in the next day or so.’
‘I’ll pay you for anything that fits and flatters.’ I smiled, although I had my doubts. Bronwyn and I were poles apart.
‘Not acceptable.’ Bronwyn shook her head. ‘Pay me back by sorting us out. The dog thing is really doing my head in now,’ she groaned.
‘We’ve found one.’ Susie looked delighted.
‘No, you’ve found one. But I am not having a rat roaming around our house.’
‘Oh Lulu, he’s adorable. He’s a Chihuahua type and he’s mainly white, with a black ear and what looks like a patch over his eye.’
‘She wants to call him David, after her father.’ Bronwyn checked her manicure.
‘Bronwyn and my father don’t really get along.’ Susie looked uncomfortable.
‘He refuses to accept that we’re a couple,’ Bronwyn said flatly. ‘Anyway, he’s an aggressive little fucker – the dog, that is; although her father’s not the nicest either. Anyway, he already acts like he owns the place and he’s peeing everywhere.’
‘Well, puppies do take a lot of training,’ I cautioned.
‘He’s not a pup. He’s two,’ Bronwyn told me. I could sense trouble as clearly as if a policeman with a grave look on his face had just walked into the room.
After that, the rest of the week seemed easy. I had another new client, which was exciting. Jonathan was an interesting guy, over six feet tall, with a Yorkie called Gilbert who barked day and night. I was in my element – this one was right up my street. Dogs about to have ASBOs slapped on them I could cope with in my sleep.
Next morning, Clodagh rang bright and early – too bright and way too early for me. She was vague – unusual for her – but the gist of it was that she’d be round late morning. The call was closely followed by one from Maddy, who also wanted to swing by. No one ‘swung by’ Bray – it was miles from anywhere. Still, after my week I needed some human company, so I wasn’t about to argue.
‘That’s great, Maddy. Clodagh just rang, she’s coming round as well,’ I sat up in bed. ‘What’s with you all this morning, you especially? It’s only ten thirty.’
‘Fab. We’ll go shopping.’ She avoided the question. ‘Oh and let’s get our hairs done, darling, shall we?’ It was all a bit showbizzy for me.
‘Are we going somewhere? A TV thing?’ I was out of bed now. Maddy’s parties were always worth tagging along to. Last time, I’d met Ronan Keating, or was it Keith Duffy? Definitely one of the boy-band heads, anyway.
‘No no. Just thought it would be fun,’ she said airily. ‘Anyway, gotta run. See you later.’
They arrived in one car, with Clodagh driving. ‘We hooked up after I spoke to you,’ Maddy told me, hauling a bag of goodies out of the car.
‘Breakfast.’ Clodagh smiled.
‘What’s that green stuff?’ I pointed to a tray of grass peeping out of her bag.
‘Wheatgrass, it’s for juicing.’ She moved past me and was fustering round my kitchen in seconds.
‘I’m having an onion bagel with cream cheese and so are you.’ Maddy had seen my face. ‘And a Danish if we can fit them in after.’
We had a lazy breakfast on the deck; the days were still just about warm enough to eat outside so we decided to make hay and all that.
‘OK, town anyone? I’ve made us hair appointments with Paul whats-his-name, by the way.’ Maddy jumped up all of a sudden.
‘The guy off the telly?’ Clodagh sounded impressed.
‘Hession, yep, he was on set the other day and I persuaded him to fit us in.’
‘The three of us? Isn’t that pushing things?’
‘Ah well, you go first, new image and all that.’ Maddy was being too nice to me.
‘Then we’ll head down Grafton Street, maybe pop into BT and get our make-up done in Mac. Triona’s on, I think.’ She tried to look vague.
‘Have you two something planned?’ This was all a bit too organized.
‘No, no,’ they said in unison.
‘Swear.’
‘Scout’s honour.’ Clodagh held up two fingers and Maddy made the sign of the cross on her neck.
‘OK, lead me to it.’ I grabbed my bag. ‘Oh, by the way, remember I told you that one of my clients was going to give me a bag of her castoffs?’ I said to Maddy. ‘Wait till you see the stuff. It’s gorgeous.’
They looked at one another, arousing my suspicions again immediately.
‘Better and better.’ Maddy laughed. ‘We’ll try it all on later over a bottle of vino.’
‘Look.’ I threw down my handbag. ‘You two must think I’m thick. I can smell a rat a mile away. So, tell me now, or I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Tell you on the way.’ Clodagh bustled me into her car as only she can.
We had a great afternoon. Paul Hession started on my mop and squeezed in Maddy. Clodagh had washed her hair that morning anyway, so she spent the time drinking free lattes – breaking her nocaffeine rule – and reading Red and Cosmo. My hair looked amazing by the time he’d finished. It was so shiny you could have skated on it, and the black-cherry colour made it look so thick I could’ve gotten a part in a L’Oréal ad myself.
Next stop Brown Thomas, the poshest department store in Dublin, its assistants so well groomed and intimidating they managed to penetrate all my training and make me feel like a twelve-year-old again.
Triona in Mac, however, broke that rule. She was a doll. Again, she opted for me first, and when she finished I looked so cool and sassy I was gobsmacked.
‘But I don’t look like me.’ I kept preening in the hand mirror as all the assistants smiled and said things like ‘Love that damson-curd gloss,’ and ‘That mocha really brings out the colour of your eyes.’ I hadn’t a clue, but I knew I liked it. The other two got their faces done as well, and we headed for a cocktail in the Shelbourne, laden down with free samples from several counters, because Maddy knew everyone.
‘So, when are you going to tell me what’s going on then?’ I asked as I sipped my Bellini ten minutes later. ‘And don’t bother covering up any longer. I know when you two are up to something.’
10
‘NO,’ I SHOUTED TWO MINUTES LATE
R AFTER THEY’D EVENTUALLY ’fessed up.
‘Yes.’
‘No. I mean it.’
‘You’re going whether you like it or not.’ Maddy was getting into her stride and, backed by the other one, she was hard to stop.
‘You can’t make me.’
‘Aw, come on, you look amazing, and when we get home we’ll try on all those new clothes.’
‘Absolutely no way,’ I said, but it was weaker and they both knew it.
‘Yes!’ Maddy did a little dance around the Horseshoe bar until Clodagh – who knew almost everyone here – yanked her back down and ordered her to behave. ‘You’re embarrassing us,’ she hissed. ‘I have to deal with these people—’
‘Would you go way out of that, sure there’s your man from TV3, here since eleven this morning, I betcha,’ Maddy interrupted, not to be beaten. ‘He’s hardly likely to object, seeing he can barely string two words together.’ She poked me in the ribs. ‘Just because you know a few of the radio and TV heads who frequent this gaff, don’t go all snobby on us.’ She made a face. ‘Remember, I’m the media babe,’ she taunted.
Clodagh was an account executive in one of the big ad agencies, so she always knew someone, no matter where we went.
In terms of their backgrounds, they were poles apart. Clodagh’s family were very proper, whereas Maddy’s mum, Connie, originally came from a part of Dublin where they’ve been known to eat their young. It always amazed me that they ‘got’ each other, but they did – apart from the odd little bitching session, like now.
‘Listen up, you two. Quit arguing. I cannot – repeat, cannot – go to that gig tonight. I can never face that guy again, do you understand?’
‘’Course you can. We’ll be with you.’ Maddy pooh-poohed my objection. ‘He won’t even remember, for God’s sake. We were all pissed.’
‘I wasn’t, that’s the trouble. His face haunts me last thing every night.’
‘Well, let’s go there glammed up to the nines and show the fucker.’ She took a slurp of her Margarita through the straw and clinked her glass to my Bellini. ‘Another one?’ She had already gestured for replacements.
‘Not me, I’m driving.’ Clodagh shook her head at the barman, while I nodded yes furiously. I knew when I was beaten. It was going to be a nightmare, nothing surer.
The only thing I can say in my favour is that I looked as good as was humanly possible for a girl like me. I hadn’t paid so much attention to myself since I made my communion, and that was only because I knew my mother would probably barely remember the date, so I spent months preparing. Bronwyn’s clothes were deemed ‘to die for’, so much so that we spent an hour fighting over who’d wear the Dolce and Gabbana black dress, until I pulled rank and insisted that I did, in fact, own the clothes.
‘But—’
‘All of them,’ I added for good measure.
‘But . . . but, you’ve abandoned black for ever,’ Maddy shouted when she’d run out of buts.
‘Maybe.’ She had a point there. ‘However, this is black like I’ve never even had the courage to try on before.’ I grabbed it triumphantly. ‘Besides, it’s more slate grey, I think.’ I held it up to my face.
‘It does really suit her,’ Clodagh conceded reluctantly. She hesitated, then grabbed an olive-green top out of Maddy’s hands. ‘And this really suits me.’ She ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
By nine o’clock, I’d forgotten my feelings of dread, thanks mainly to a glass of wine on top of the cocktails earlier. Still, I snuck into the pub behind the girls, just in case. To my horror, we’d come in a side door and instantly came face to face with the band, who were in full swing. They were a cross between Oasis and Def Leppard and they were certainly giving it loads, with the result that the place was heaving. Of course, the first person I made eye contact with was Jason. In fairness, he looked worse than I felt. He sort of hunched up his shoulders and tried to make himself invisible behind the drums – at least that’s how I saw it.
‘Tell me the make-up is hiding my mortification,’ I mumbled to Maddy as Clodagh headed for the bar.
‘What?’ She glanced over my shoulder. ‘Ah fuck him, he’s only a drummer on the dole, and I’ll bet his disgusting jumper is M&S rather than D&G.’ She winked. ‘Just keep picturing him in his jocks and be very glad you didn’t go there.’
‘Is he on the dole?’
‘No idea, but he looks like you’d fling him a euro or two if you met him on O’Connell Bridge,’ Maddy joked. ‘Quit worrying, you’re a babe.’
‘You’re absolutely right.’ It was the drink talking, but who cares. Whatever gets you through was my philosophy tonight.
‘Anyway, I’m much more interested in the lead guitarist.’ Maddy nudged me. ‘Oh, and there’s Paul. He’s coming over. Hi Paul.’ She went all coy, just as Clodagh returned with the gargle.
They both blocked my view then, so I forgot to check out the guy in the band. Paul was OK though, she’d been right last week. And judging by his smile, he was giving her the star treatment.
‘Ladies,’ he said, just a smidgen too smoothly. ‘You sneaked off last week without a proper goodbye. Glad you could make it.’ He glanced at me as if he’d never seen me before, but he had eyes only for Maddy really.
Clodagh and I left them to it and moved off into the crowd, just as another half-familiar face gestured in our direction.
‘Now there’s a ride, who is he?’ Clodagh wanted to know.
‘It’s Louis,’ I shouted, as if I’d known him all my life.
‘Louis who?’
‘Luscious Louis, from the class.’ I waved frantically as he made his way over.
‘Lulu, I wouldn’t have put you down as a rock chick.’ He kissed me on both cheeks. ‘But my, you’ve changed.’ He twirled me around. ‘You look amazing.’ He took in every inch of me. ‘Prada or Armani?’ he wanted to know, and Clodagh’s face fell.
‘He’s gay,’ she whispered, totally unnecessarily.
‘He is,’ I said through my teeth. ‘Louis, I’d like you to meet my good friend Clodagh.’
He kissed her three times. ‘Have you come to see Mike?’ he asked.
‘Mike who?’ we both said in unison.
‘Mike, you know, my flatmate. He’s in the band. There he is, on guitar.’
‘If he’s not gay, he’s mine,’ Clodagh said quietly as I struggled to see that far without my glasses.
‘Oh, that Mike,’ I said, a bit disappointed. But then Louis dragged us a bit closer, and I had to admit he looked all right. He was taller than I’d remembered, and he’d cleaned up a bit since the day with Pedro, when he looked like he’d just fallen out of the scratcher. He was obviously enjoying himself too, and it showed on his face. He was laughing at something, and his eyes – definitely his best feature – were crinkled and sparkly. They were all having great fun, I noticed, except for Jason, who was still peeping out uncomfortably from behind the snare.
‘Fuck the lot of them, just for tonight I don’t care,’ I told Maddy, as she and Paul joined us and Louis led us to a table on a raised platform area where we could see everything.
‘The VIP booth.’ He unhooked a rope, bowed and swept us in, and we all laughed and pretended we weren’t in a pub in the suburbs.
An hour later I was really into the craic, helped along by a few more drinks. Louis turned out to be brilliant company, and he and I danced like lunatics for most of the time. The band eventually called time, and Mike wandered over to our table, pint in hand.
‘Lulu.’ He grinned at me. ‘You’ve changed.’
‘Have I? How?’ I tried to sound nonchalant.
‘I dunno, let’s see.’ He scratched his nose. ‘Your hair’s all done, you’re wearing make-up, no glasses and . . . the dress is . . .’ He whistled. ‘. . . Out there.’ He grinned at me. ‘That’s it for starters.’
I was happy about the dress bit. My boobs looked big in it, that was the main thing as far as I was concerned. The balcony bra Maddy had
made me wear certainly helped, as did the cotton wool I’d stuffed inside when no one was looking.
‘Have you chicken fillets in?’ Clodagh whispered, right at that moment.
‘Nope,’ I answered truthfully. ‘I’d never buy them, it’s not fair on the chickens, according to Jamie.’ I headed for the loo, leaving her speechless for once.
I decided I liked Mike. In fact, I decided I fancied him, so I flirted outrageously, especially when Paul dragged a very reluctant Jason over to the table.
‘Hi, Jas.’ I slapped him on the back and he nearly choked on his pint.
‘Remember me?’
He apparently did. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he mumbled, then disappeared pronto.
‘I tried to get off with him last week,’ I told a slightly bemused Mike, who hadn’t even noticed us chatting, I suspect.
‘And did you succeed?’ He laughed.
‘No, he ran off.’ I tossed back my hair. ‘Big mistake.’ I was suddenly delighted with myself. I wasn’t worrying, or being nervous or sensible. In fact, I felt a bit Maddyish actually.
‘Yeah, from where I’m standing, it definitely was.’ I liked the way he was looking at me, but I needed to sort a few things out in my head first.
‘Are you flirting with me?’ I said what I was thinking.
‘I dunno, am I?’ He sipped his drink.
‘Are you gay?’ I changed tack without thinking, afraid I’d forget to ask.
‘What?’ He spluttered his drink this time.
‘You and Louis, are you a couple?’
‘Hell no. What gave you that idea?’
‘I’m not sure, I just thought—’
‘Well, that’s done a lot for my masculinity. I quite fancied myself as a bit of a hard rocker tonight.’ He grinned. ‘It was a good gig, though.’ He wasn’t really asking. ‘I haven’t played with the guys in ages.’
‘It was,’ I agreed. ‘Are you bisexual or anything?’
