The entire house was in darkness. She pushed the front door open and fumbled for the light switch. As the hall lit up the phone rang.
‘Hello?’ Anna said, expecting it to be for one of the others.
‘Ann?’
‘Anna, you mean?’
‘Oh right. Something spilled on my hand. I couldn’t make it out.’
‘Who is this?’ Anna was baffled.
‘Rich.’
‘Who?’
‘From the other night, remember?’
‘You mean Rick?’
‘No Rich, short for Richard.’
‘Oh hi!’ She certainly hadn’t expected to hear from him. God, this was . . . well, a pleasant surprise really. When you met men in nightclubs you didn’t automatically expect them to ring. She wondered what he’d seen in her. She’d been fairly langers when they’d stumbled into each other. Not an amazing start. She’d probably looked like a tart gone wrong. In fact, oh God, it was all coming together now . . . she hadn’t even bothered to wash her hair!
‘How are you keeping?’ He had a throaty voice. A neutral accent. He was Irish most definitely but she couldn’t figure out from which part exactly.
‘Fine.’ Anna tried to keep her voice level. She didn’t want him to think she was excited about the phone call or anything. As if he was the only man who ever called.
‘What are you up to?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, immediately regretting it. How could she let herself down like that? She was supposed to be a woman with a jam-packed calendar.
‘Can I call round?’
God, he wasn’t a bit shy in coming forward, was he? What could she say? She’d just gone and admitted to having no plans made. ‘Where do you live?’ he pushed.
She told him. She felt she had no choice.
It took Anna exactly fifteen minutes to scramble speedily around the flat, shoving lone shoes and socks under the bed, grabbing air freshener from the bathroom and drenching the air with it. She emptied the overflowing ashtray, cleaned two coffee cups and checked to make sure the packet of Jaffa cakes was still intact in the press.
What else? Oh yes, she grabbed three visible books, Mars and Venus on a Date, Mr Maybe and Amanda’s Wedding and threw them in a nearby press. No point giving him any daft ideas. There. She was ready. She took a quick glance in the mirror. Christ! This wouldn’t do at all. She slapped a generous scoop of Flawless Finish on her face, painted a pink mouth somewhere near her lips and sprayed herself liberally with Miracle. The doorbell rang.
A shocking thought suddenly struck her. This guy was a stranger. What if he was a murderer or a raving nut head? Or an addict? A sex addict maybe, oh God. The bell rang again. She couldn’t let him in. She couldn’t. How would she possibly be able to explain it all later to the police as they took fingerprints from her battered body and examined her fingernails for traces of broken skin? The door from the upstairs flat opened and suddenly someone was running down the stairs, Grainne! Thank God. At least it looked like her behind the facemask.
‘Are you answering the door or what?’ Grainne looked exasperated.
‘Yes . . . well . . . Would you ever do me a huge favour?’
She explained her predicament. Grainne listened, gobsmacked.
‘So you see, if you could just check in on us in about fifteen minutes, say,’ Anna whispered excitedly.
‘Fifteen minutes might be too late.’ Grainne’s eyes widened dramatically.
‘Right, ten. Thanks, Grainne.’
Anna shot downstairs and threw the door open. ‘Sorry I didn’t hear the door,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I had the TV on.’
He stood in the middle of the porch, combat-clad legs slightly apart, hands stuck deep in his pockets. He wore a navy fleece and a black cap. His eyes were an earthy grey, his bone structure was even. Anna thought he looked even better than he had in the nightclub, which was good. Usually it was the other way round.
‘Well? Can I come in?’ he looked slightly bemused.
‘Sure.’ Anna was quite pleased he’d come. Another contestant for Victoria’s party! Perhaps he’d fare better than the last one.
They went upstairs. ‘Sorry about the mess,’ Anna said, thinking it was lucky he hadn’t called fifteen minutes earlier.
‘It’s fine,’ he said nonchalantly, throwing himself on the sofa and putting his feet up on her foot stool.
‘Tea?’
‘Sure, milk and two. Got any biccies?’
‘Yep.’ Anna proudly handed him the Jaffa cakes.
‘Anything on the telly?’ Rich bent down and picked up the remote.
‘I dunno,’ Anna said doubtfully, ‘I don’t really watch it.’
‘Don’t you?’ Rich was amazed. He patted the cushion beside him. ‘Sit down. Hey, tell you what, gotta beer instead of the tea?’
‘Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else . . . like go out, say?’
‘Nah, Monday nights in Dublin are crap.’
‘Right.’
‘So, what kind of beer do you have?’
‘Bud or Bud.’
‘I’ll have a Bud so,’ Rich laughed.
Anna laughed too although she wasn’t quite sure why.
There was a loud rap on the door. Grainne was bang on time. She barged into the room, immediately clamping her eyes on Rich.
‘You’re . . .’ she blurted and stopped suddenly. ‘I know you.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Rich gave a coy smile.
To give him credit, he stood up like a gentleman to shake her hand.
‘Will you join us for a Bud?’ he offered.
‘Why not?’ Grainne plonked herself down on the sofa beside him. ‘I’m always game for a Bud.’
Anna reluctantly retrieved three from the fridge. She opened a bag of nuts too.
‘I know I know you from somewhere,’ Grainne was adamant. ‘I never forget a face, D’ya ever go to Copperface Jack’s?’
‘Nope.’ Rich was grinning almost abnormally.
‘Are you a friend of Sandra’s?’
Rich shook his head.
‘Marion’s?’
‘No.’
‘I give up so,’ Grainne admitted defeat. ‘What’s on TV then?’
‘Nothing much,’ Rich was beginning to show signs of restlessness.
‘We could watch Mr Motivator.’ Grainne gave Anna an obvious wink. The joke was lost on Rich. Thankfully.
‘I’ve Reservoir Dogs upstairs,’ Grainne said suddenly.
‘Deadly.’ Rich’s eyes lit up. ‘Go get it.’
Grainne put her beer on the floor and bounced out of the room like a woman on a serious mission. Anna sat down beside Rich.
‘What’ll we do?’
‘About what?’ Rich looked genuinely surprised.
‘You don’t seriously want to watch Reservoir Dogs, do you? We can just tell her we’ve changed our minds when she comes back down.’
‘Why? What else would we be doing?’
Anna opened her mouth as if to say something and shut it again.
‘Besides, Tarrantino is a genius,’ he added, as if that made sense of everything.
Grainne was back. She popped the video in, squeezed herself in between Anna and Rich and retrieved her beer. ‘Sandra might pop down later,’ she said happily. ‘She says she’s doing nothing else.’
Great, Anna thought as she felt herself being pushed against the armrest. Why don’t we ask the lads downstairs while we’re at it? This was ridiculous. It wasn’t a date at all. Did she not look attractive? She should have worn something sexier. She glanced down at her plain navy suit. Horrifyingly unsexy. Shoot! He probably thought she dressed like this all the time. And now that Grainne was here there was no chance to change.
You’re a disaster, Anna Allstone, she told herself. A complete and utter hazard. There should be warning signs sent out about you. No wonder men don’t stick around very long.
The three of them sat in silence. In fact, the only audible sound (besides
the actors in the video) was of Rich and Grainne slurping their cans of beer. Anna felt like reading the evening paper she’d bought on the way home from work. And why wouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if the others would even notice. Suddenly Rich picked up the remote and pressed pause.
‘Where’s the loo?’
‘Just off the bedroom.’ Anna nodded in the right direction.
‘Back in a sec.’ He disappeared.
‘He’s a bit of an all right,’ Grainne commented when he was gone.
‘Do you think so?’ Anna wasn’t so convinced.
‘Sure. I’ve met him somewhere before though. His face is awful familiar.’
‘Maybe he shifted one of your friends.’
‘That must be it,’ Grainne said cheerfully. ‘By the way . . . you don’t mind me being here do you?’
‘Not at all,’ Anna said and nearly bit her tongue off. Of course she minded. But what could she say? That she and Rich had some catching up to do? That they needed to spend some quality time together? What a joke! Grainne knew the score. She’d be here for the night.
Rich reappeared. The video started up again. The beer drinking resumed.
Another knock on the door.
Sandra’s inquisitive face sprang from behind it. ‘I heard there’s Bud going around here.’
‘You’ll have to sit on the floor,’ Grainne ordered.
‘Have my seat,’ Anna stood up without knowing why.
‘Not at all,’ Sandra walked purposefully towards the sofa. ‘Push over everybody.’
Another beer was fetched for Sandra. She made herself comfy on the armrest. Whatever Sandra thought, though, there was clearly not enough room for them all.
‘I’m Rich,’ Rich said.
‘I wish I was,’ Sandra giggled and shook his hand flirtatiously. ‘Jesus! I know you.’ She gave a sudden scream.
Everybody jumped. Grainne kicked over her beer.
Anna rolled her eyes to the ceiling. What now?
‘You’re the fella from the cough medicine ad,’ Sandra squealed.
‘Oh yes!’ Grainne’s eyes widened as she rubbed the spilled beer into the carpet with the sole of her shoe. ‘I knew you had a famous face.’
Anna screwed up her face to suppress a smirk. Famous? Whatever next? Soon he’d be signing autographs for them. He probably felt like the fifth Beatle sitting in her flat. A slow satisfied smile was spreading across his face. The video rolled on unwatched.
‘So,’ Sandra settled herself well into the sofa, ‘what else have you done?’
‘This and that.’
‘Tell us. Go on,’ Grainne urged.
Rich didn’t need that much encouragement. ‘I was in The Bill,’ he said.
‘Which one?’ Sandra asked. ‘I’ve seen nearly all of them.’
‘The one with the big train crash.’
‘Really? What part did you play?’
‘I was a paramedic. I said, “Pass me the oxygen.”’
‘Cool,’ Sandra and Grainne answered in unison.
‘I was also in When Brendan Met Trudy. Just a “blink and you’ll miss me” part.’
‘Still,’ Sandra said encouragingly, ‘it’s a start.’
‘Don’t forget us when you’re rich and famous,’ Grainne said.
‘He’s already Rich,’ Anna said dryly.
The other three collapsed into convulsions of laughter. For a moment Anna had a sudden urge to be somewhere else. A thought crossed her mind. She could run across the road and invite Mark over. Then they’d only be one guy short. She eyed Rich and his two new-found friends disdainfully. Three girls and one guy was a bit unfair. Then again, it was Monday. Mark would be working late. Or getting ready for bed. He’d think she was insane inviting him over to meet this lot. And besides . . . she was on a date! How could she have possibly forgotten?
‘Have you met any stars?’ Grainne snapped open a second beer and tucked her feet in under her.
Rich took a cigarette from Sandra’s outstretched hand and contemplated the many celebrities he’d rubbed shoulders with over the years.
‘I met Guy Ritchie once.’ Rich blew a jagged line of smoke towards the ceiling. ‘Madonna wasn’t with him at the time though.’
‘Did you?’ Anna was genuinely impressed. But regretted showing it as she watched Rich’s chest practically explode with pride.
‘What did he say?’ Grainne sat up straight.
‘Oh nothing to me,’ Rich swallowed, ‘but he asked my friend the time. We were all so busy filming we didn’t have time for chit-chat.’
‘I see,’ Anna cracked open a beer for herself while there was still some left. No one seemed to be going anywhere. In fact she was the only one who had to be up in the morning.
‘I’ve met the whole cast of Fair City of course,’ Rich added.
‘Of course,’ Sandra giggled.
Grainne shot her a warning look. ‘So tell us about the ad? Was that fun? What was the girl like? She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’
Rich made a face. ‘She’s very big-headed really. Not at all friendly. Like she wouldn’t go out with you unless you drove a big car and threw money at her . . .’
‘. . . which you didn’t,’ Sandra finished the sentence for him.
‘Er . . . no.’
They turned back to the film in silence.
‘So can I see you again?’ Rich seemed reluctant to disappear without arranging a return visit. The girls had rapidly retired during the film credits. Anna was gobsmacked. She hadn’t exchanged five sentences with him all evening. And now he was looking for more! Perhaps he was lonely. Yeah, that must be it. Maybe all his friends had emigrated to Australia at the same time. Possibly he had a thing for nurses. What else? Because surely, surely he hadn’t considered the ‘date’ a success.
‘Give me a ring,’ Anna bid adieu soberly.
‘Sure.’ He looked for a split second like he was going to lean over and kiss her. But he didn’t. ‘Goodnight.’ He gave her a curious wink and disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER TEN
‘So what age is he?’ Elaine stubbed out one cigarette and lit another.
‘I don’t know,’ Anna sighed and rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. ‘Same age as me, I suppose.’
‘And you didn’t go out at all?’ Elaine frowned.
‘No, Dublin’s crap on Monday nights.’
‘I see,’ Elaine looked as if she didn’t see at all.
‘Anyway, it’s nice to sit in now and again,’ Anna said defensively.
‘Now and again, but not on a first date.’
‘Mmm.’ Anna didn’t have much interest in pursuing the conversation.
‘So did you hand in your application?’
‘No, I’ll do it tonight.’
Their fifteen-minute break was soon up. Time to go back to work. Another two hours till lunch. Perhaps she’d go to McDonald’s. Mmm . . . a nice creamy chocolate milkshake . . . mmm . . . and fries . . .
The rest of the day dragged on unmercifully. Anna typed out her letter of application and formally handed it to Evans, the store manager.
‘Good luck,’ he said kindly.
‘Thanks,’ she answered automatically.
She wondered briefly when Rich would call again. As far as she knew he wasn’t working. He was between jobs as they called it in the acting world. He was attractive all right though, Anna thought as she straightened a clothes rail absent-mindedly. But he wasn’t exactly Mr Perfect for the Party. God, Victoria would have a field day with someone like that. It didn’t bear thinking about. Cough medicine ad indeed!
The bus sat in a steady stream of traffic the entire journey home. Mobile phones were going off at a great rate, people answering calls at the top of their voices with ‘Hi, yeah I’m on the bus now. D’ya want me to pick you up a sandwich or anything on my way home? . . . No it’s no trouble at all . . . Ham? No? . . . Oh right, cheese . . . Oh yeah there was a lot of trouble about that. Yeah . . . major shit, like, you
know . . . anyway I’ll tell you about it when I get home . . . yeah . . . about fifteen minutes . . . yeah . . . crawling along . . . okay . . . yeah, just cheese . . . okay . . . yeah bye . . . yeah . . . right . . . bye . . . oh hang on . . . hello? . . . hello? . . . hell . . . ah . . . ffffffff . . .’
A grey-haired drunk was yelling at people who suddenly found themselves engrossed in their evening papers.
‘That’s right,’ he yelled. ‘Don’t answer me back. It’s the age of technology and all that crap but one day you’ll be dead and all the computers in the world won’t be able to save you. Good luck.’
Anna stared out of the window terrified that he might catch her eye. Thankfully she was sitting too far behind for him to harass her. Instead he directed his heated statements towards a scarlet-faced, acne-covered youth. Poor man, Anna thought soberly. Imagine if he was your dad or your brother. He was someone’s relative. It was sad when you came across someone like that. It kind of put your own life into perspective.
The old man got off the bus just before it turned into Ranelagh village. She looked back out of the window and saw him continue his argument with the bus stop. Life was cruel, she thought shaking her head sadly. He was definitely someone the Celtic Tiger seemed to have forgotten about.
She found the house in complete darkness. Briefly she wondered where Steve was. Did he ever think about her? Or did he just see her as the desperate old tart upstairs? Hopefully not. It wouldn’t be nice for anyone to think about her in that way. Maybe she’d bump into him again and they could be friends. She hadn’t seen him since Friday. Tonight was Tuesday night, wasn’t it? She wondered if he’d be having another mad party. Or would he be writing chansons d’amour to Claudine?
The phone was ringing as she pushed open the front door. She threw her bag down and lunged for it.
‘Hello?’
‘Anna?’
A male voice. Hurrah! But who was it? One male voice sounded much the same as another.
Mr Right for the Night Page 7
