‘Oh, not a lot.’ Anna popped a heaped spoon of dressed avocado into her mouth.
‘You must have said something,’ her friend insisted.
‘Well, don’t kill me,’ Anna flashed a wicked grin, ‘but I told her you only paid a few pounds for the same dress she’s wearing.’
‘Oh you bad girl,’ Claire guffawed. ‘Don’t you know Victoria won’t be able to enjoy the rest of the night now if she thinks she’s wearing something cheap?’
‘I don’t care,’ Anna shrugged. ‘You know, I think that woman is either evil or incredibly stupid. I’m serious, Who does she think she is going round insulting people like that? Money doesn’t give you a passport to be nasty.’
Olive joined them. ‘Having a good night, girls?’
‘I’m having a blast,’ Anna answered. Was it her imagination or had the room begun to spin ever so slightly? Oh please don’t let me collapse. She closed her eyes. And filled her lungs with cigar-filled air. Ah, that was better. What a perfect evening so far. Too perfect, even. She felt uneasy. Something was bound to go wrong.
‘The food’s great.’ Olive’s eyes shone. ‘Did you try some?’
‘Of course I did.’ Anna grinned. ‘You can take as much as you want, you know.’
‘Right,’ said Olive, puzzled. She wondered if Anna Allstone was a bit drunk. Her eyes were slightly pink and her make-up needed retouching.
‘Have you met everyone? Orla and Suzie are sitting over there. They were commenting on how well you looked.’
‘Were they?’ Anna asked faintly. Did she look well? Did she? She didn’t feel . . . in fact . . . ugh no, her stomach gave a violent rumble.
‘Are you all right?’ Claire clutched her arm.
‘I’m fine.’ Anna was beginning to sway. The room was hot. ‘No need to call an ambulance or anything. I just need some fresh air.’ She hiccuped loudly.
‘Ooops, sorry, ha ha!’
‘I’ll bring her out,’ she heard Claire tell the others. She felt herself being steered out of the drawing room. ‘We’ll be back in a mo.’
‘Here, drink this.’ Claire shoved a glass of iced water in her face. They stood on the front steps gazing at the vast front lawns. The cool night air was sobering. Anna gave a slight shiver. ‘Can we go back inside now?’
‘Not until you can walk properly,’ Claire whispered fiercely. ‘We’ve done well tonight, Anna. We’ve turned up looking great, our heads held high and that’s the way we’re going to leave. Now hurry up and drink this.’
Anna stared at her friend, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion. Was she really that drunk? God, Claire was being pretty hard on her. All she wanted was to have a bit of fun. That’s all she wanted. ‘I’ll be fine.’ She finished the water as Claire went off to get her another glass. ‘I promise, I’ll behave myself,’ she hiccuped again, ‘I promise.’
‘Hello, good looking.’
Anna swung around to see who’d made the comment. Oh hello, ugly. It was Carole’s unattractive hubby. She was nowhere to be found. ‘Hi,’ she said. Anna hoped he hadn’t come over to bore her to tears for the night. Somehow he looked like he’d be quite a hard person to shrug off. He held out a hand for her to shake. It felt like a wet fish.
‘Which one of the gang are you?’
I wasn’t one of the gang, Anna thought. I was actually one of the girls the gang picked on, didn’t Carole tell you?
‘My name’s Anna,’ she said.
‘Annnnnna,’ he said meaningfully. God, what a bore. ‘And who are you here with, Annnnnna?’
‘Oh I’m just here with everyone,’ she answered lightly.
‘You mean you’re not with anyone special?’ he asked her cleavage.
‘Nope.’ Christ, he was beginning to make her skin crawl.
‘Well, well, well.’
‘It’s a great party, isn’t it?’ Anna said to the ceiling.
‘Victoria went to a lot of trouble, didn’t she?’
‘I’d say you’ve a few men hidden away somewhere. I wouldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous as you is single.’
‘The food is just lovely. And have you seen the garden? It’s––’
‘I’d say half the men here would do anything to get in your knickers.’
‘Excuse me?’ Anna looked visibly stunned.
‘I’d say you’re an animal in the scratcher.’
‘Listen here, egghead,’ Anna snapped, the effects of the alcohol suddenly giving her zero tolerance levels. ‘I wouldn’t go near you if you were single. But you’re married, which makes you doubly unattractive, so piss off.’
‘Jesus, no wonder you’re still single.’ His ugly red face became much uglier and much redder.
‘Well, when I meet people like you I’m glad that I am. Poor Carole, she’s the one who has to see your face every morning.’
‘I was only trying to compliment you but obviously you’re so unused to––’
‘There you are, darling.’ Carole suddenly appeared from nowhere. She grabbed her husband’s hand and squeezed it possessively. ‘I hope you’re not boring poor Anna with stories about how well your computer business is going. It’s a dot com.’ She winked at Anna. ‘I’m always telling him not to be talking about his successful business. I mean, I’m very much aware of the fact that not everybody has done as well as us from the old Celtic Tiger.’ Another wink.
‘Don’t worry,’ Anna gave a dangerous smile. ‘We weren’t talking about that at all. Not at all.’
‘Oh.’ Carole looked completely put out. ‘Er . . . what were you talking about?’
‘You tell her.’ Anna grinned at the pair of them.
‘I was just saying . . .’ He began to cough as Carole’s mouth set in a hard straight line. ‘I was––’
‘I’d better go off and mingle,’ Anna interrupted airily. ‘Don’t ever let it be said that poor old Anna was the cause of a lovers’ tiff.’ Hee hee.
‘Were you causing trouble again?’ Claire was suddenly back with more water. ‘I’m not sure if I liked the look on Carole’s face just there.’
‘I don’t blame her for looking like that. You should have heard what her saddo husband was saying to me. In his dreams!’
‘God, Carole doesn’t seem to have caught such a good catch after all,’ Claire said after hearing the nature of the conversation. ‘The way she goes on you’d think she was married to Mel bloody Gibson. Actually, speaking of gorgeous men, have you seen Victoria’s Vincent?’
‘He’s divine, isn’t he?’ Olive was back again.
‘When God was giving out looks he must have been camping outside HMV all night to be first in the queue,’ she swooned.
Where was this Vincent? Anna’s eyes scanned the room. Where was this lovebeast they were all raving about? He couldn’t be that wonderful if he’d married Victoria. No indeed, there must be something wrong with his brain, if not his looks. Nobody could marry that girl unless they were daft in the head.
‘Someone introduce me,’ she demanded. ‘I’m dying to meet this Vinnie fella.’
‘When he passes next, I’ll grab him,’ Olive giggled.
‘More champagne?’ a fresh-faced caterer appeared.
‘I’d love one,’ Alice smiled.
Claire shot a warning look at Anna as she eyed the tray longingly. ‘No thank you.’ She spoke for them both.
‘Meanie,’ Anna muttered.
‘Have you seen the birthday cake?’ Olive asked.
‘Both Vincent and Victoria were thirty last week. Their cake is amazing. It’s got her face and his face on it.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t I love to be the one to cut it,’ Anna muttered.
‘Now, now,’ Alice wagged an accusing finger, ‘we’ll have none of that.’
‘Oh, there’s Vincent.’ Olive grabbed a passing six-footer and dragged him over to the small group.
‘Vincent pet, I want to introduce you to a few people. You’ve met Claire, I know, but have you met Alice?’
Alice
and the tall blond man shook hands.
‘And have you met Anna?’
He turned. She gave a sharp cry. People’s conversations drew to an abrupt halt. It was as if they knew a drama was about to unfold. Vincent Reddin didn’t react for a second. He just stared, disbelieving, disconnected. For one awful moment, Anna stood nailed to the deep, plush, crimson carpet in rigid shock. People’s eyes were boring into her. This wasn’t happening to her. It couldn’t be.
This could not be happening to Anna Allstone. Things like this did not occur in real life. The silence that hung between them was unbearable.
‘How do you do, Vincent,’ she spoke eventually, sounding like ET. ‘Or should I call you Darren?’
Sharp intakes of breath could be heard from Alice, Olive and Claire.
‘Is Darren some kind of stage name or . . . let me see . . . could it possibly be short for Vincent?’ she continued in a dangerous tone of voice.
‘Listen, I can explain,’ Vincent stammered and reached out to touch her.
‘Get away from me!’ she screamed and pushed him away.
She watched him sway. Somehow he lost his balance and, to Anna’s horror, fell backwards into the crowd of guests.
‘What the hell is going on here?’ Victoria suddenly appeared out of nowhere, her thin features contorted with surprised rage.
‘Don’t ask me,’ answered Anna numbly as if she’d simply been paid to deliver the lines. ‘He’s the one with the answers.’
‘Well, I don’t know what kind of drugs you are on, Anna Allstone, but leave my property now without any further trouble.’
‘Don’t worry, I was just going anyway.’ Anna straightened herself up. ‘Goodbye, Victoria. I hope you and your guests enjoy the rest of the evening. And goodbye, Darren,’ she looked down on him contemptuously as he struggled to lift himself from the floor, ‘or should I say Vincent? It’s impossible to know, isn’t it?’
How she turned on her four-inch heels and walked steadily out of that room with any ounce of dignity, she’d never know. But walk out with her head held high, she did. And Alice, Olive and Claire followed with their partners. And as it transpired later, so did many other guests when they quickly realized the party could only go downhill after that.
But although on the outside, Anna left Victoria’s house with a tiny piece of pride, in the inside she was crumbling. She would never be able to face any of those people ever again. Without knowing her side of that story, they’d brand her as a tart and a home-wrecker.
People wouldn’t forget Anna Allstone for a very long time. To think she’d actually slept with Victoria’s husband. It was too unbearable to think about. She sat in silence in the back of Simon’s car as he drove her to Stillorgan. She didn’t want to talk about it, she insisted. She pushed Claire’s comforting arm away, insisting she was fine. She’d get over it. She had nothing to feel guilty about. She wouldn’t have gone near Vincent if she’d known the truth. He was a liar and a cheat and Victoria was welcome to him.
But Anna hardly slept that night. She lay in the dark, eyes heavy with exhaustion, her stomach tied up in heavy knots. Thank God, she was going to England. She’d never come back, not even for Christmas. At least in England nobody would know anything about her. No Darren over there. No Mark. No nobody. Hot, hopeless tears slid down her cheeks, soaking her pillow. At that very moment, Anna almost wished she were dead.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Back in Galway, Anna tried to lose herself in her work. She rang head office and assured them she was prepared to take on this exciting and challenging role. They gave her ten days to get organized.
Anna began to lose track of time as she shot around Lolta’s like a loose bullet trying to busy herself, and after a while she couldn’t remember if it was a Wednesday or a Thursday.
Thankfully Lolta’s were buying her plane ticket and setting up initial accommodation for her. Two less things she had to worry about.
Claire had phoned several times but Anna hadn’t taken the calls. The last thing she wanted was a bloody post-mortem on the party. Eventually she took the phone off the hook.
The weather was becoming milder and Anna took to walking the prom in the evenings. She’d miss the sea when she went to England, she really would. It had a huge calming effect on her nerves. Striding up and down the seafront in the evenings she had plenty of time to relive every minute of the party. One good thing had come out of all this, she decided. She no longer envied Victoria Reddin’s lavish lifestyle. Money couldn’t buy happiness, security or love. It was a sorry substitute for a real life. Anna hadn’t much, she admitted, but at least what she had was real. It was real.
Never again would she presume that rich people had a better quality of life. If she had millions of pounds and a sleazeball for a husband, she wouldn’t want that package. Life was enough trouble.
But was there such a thing as a truly decent man? Or were they all ratbags given half a chance? It was hard to know. After all, men never introduced themselves as slimy gits, did they? No, they were all one-woman men until you caught them with somebody else. Was it because they were the weaker sex? That was a possibility. Yeah, that was a real possibility. Because when you thought about it, if the most powerful man in America was caught having ‘sexual relations’ with some ordinary smitten intern, what chance did the average Joe Soap have?
‘Anna, is that you? Thank God I’ve finally caught you.’
‘Hi, Claire.’ Anna groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to talk about the party. She didn’t need therapy or to be set up with another one of Simon’s friends to ease the pain. She was over Darren/Vincent. She didn’t give a tinker’s curse about him. Let him continue to be married to his sad little wife and conduct his seedy affairs with somebody else.
The party was the best thing that could have happened to her. Else she might have gone through life thinking happiness was in the passenger seat of some flashy sports car. Good luck to the Reddins and their silly circle of cronies. Anna wouldn’t want to be them for anything in the world.
Her career was her own. Nobody had ever handed her anything. Her achievements were all due to sheer bloody hard work.
‘Anna, I’m just ringing to say that I’ll miss you dreadfully when you go over to England.’
‘Ah Claire, it’s only an hour away. I’m not going to the moon, you know.’
‘I know.’ Claire sounded all emotional.
‘I’ll probably see you more than I do now,’ Anna said kindly.
‘Yeah, listen, I know you don’t want to talk about the party so I won’t mention it.’
‘Right,’ Anna said, now kind of wanting to talk about it since Claire wasn’t pushing it. ‘I’m fine about it, honest.’
‘Victoria knows about the affair.’
Affair? God, it sounded so sordid. Anna cringed. It sounded like they were doing it in dingy little hotels all around the country. But that was Dublin for you. Small place, small minds. People had nothing to do but gossip. It just showed how uneventful their own lives were. Affair indeed! An insignificant fling. That’s all it had been.
‘Is she standing by him?’
‘Yes.’
Of course she is, Anna thought scornfully. She wouldn’t blame him. Women like that never blamed their husbands. It was always the other woman. The temptress. Victoria would eventually convince herself that Anna must have got down on her hands and knees and begged him to give her one. Poor sad Anna Allstone who despite all her achievements, was still some old eejit desperate for a bit of nookie.
Of course, he would swear to Victoria that it had meant absolutely nothing, that he’d simply felt sorry for Anna and that nothing like that would ever happen again. He might even feign a few tears. And convince her that the fear of losing her was killing him.
And of course Victoria would forgive him, after a few tantrums followed by a week or two of keeping her bedroom door firmly locked. Because what would Victoria Reddin do, what would she be without her husband? A woman lik
e that would rather die than be left on the already oversubscribed single shelf. That would be a fate worse than death for a woman whose life revolved around clothes and cocktail parties. Anna sighed. Women like that made it so much easier for men to win all the time. No wonder the world was in such a bloody mess!
‘Ah well, it’s all behind me now.’
‘So you’re not upset?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
‘And you’re all set for the big move to England?’
‘My first-class ticket won’t be able to take me there fast enough.’
‘First class? They must think highly of you in Lolta’s.’
‘Well, it’s just as well somebody does,’ Anna replied.
‘And you’re sure you’re not just running away from it all?’ Claire seemed concerned.
Running away from it all? Running away from what? It’s not like she was leaving a hectic, fulfilled existence behind. Nobody would miss her. Anna wasn’t feeling sorry for herself, she was simply being realistic. People usually didn’t make it in business unless they travelled.
Ireland was way too small. Just a tiny dot on the map really. In fact, most people in the world had never even heard of Ireland.
Anna wondered if she’d become one of those non-resident Irish people who counted the days till Christmas to come home and have the maddest time ever, only to return to Britain at the start of a gloomy January, all depressed again. Because people who lived abroad and only came back once or twice a year constantly lived with the tourist-book impression of Ireland. Because they didn’t stick around for the gloomy part, the post-Christmas months when people didn’t go out at all. Because it was either too cold or wet or because you knew you wouldn’t be able to get a taxi home.
Anna would join them now. The first thing she’d do in London was find an Irish pub and sit there moping over a glass of Guinness, singing ‘The Green Green Grass of Home’. Well, maybe not. Actually, definitely not. She was going to make sure her new life was a huge success.
‘No, I’m not running away,’ Anna assured her friend. ‘I’m being sent there, remember?’
Mr Right for the Night Page 25
