* * *
Ally smiled to herself as she headed towards the Luas stop. Just then her phone buzzed.
‘Darling.’ Before she had a second to inhale, her mother launched in, ‘I just needed to chat to you after Sunday. What had you in such a state? Dad was wondering if it was the perimenopause, but I told him not to be ridiculous, none of our family ever hit that before their fifties. In fact, Gerry, your great-aunt – now, she was a nun, and by all accounts she still had periods into her sixties.’
Ally had reached the card-swiping point by that stage and quite a few people – women, mostly – were furiously earwigging on her mum’s monologue. In fairness, it was kind of comforting.
‘Right .?.?.’
‘So, I said to him, no, it’s something else. But you know, I can’t ask him to stop seeingyou know who.?.?.Francis. He lives for his Saturdays. And so do I.’
There was a pause.
‘Darling, I can hear street noises .?.?. Are you not at work?’
‘Yeah, no, it’s complicated. I’m off for a few days.’
‘Oh goody, would you like to meet for a late lunch on Thursday? My treat, I’ll have finished my volunteer hospital visiting by then.’
Ally was starting to flag by this stage; she really needed this call to end. ‘Lovely.’
‘Westbury, 2 p.m. and try to look nice, won’t you, darling?’
Chapter 5
By six thirty she was ensconced at her favourite table in Los Banditos, with a good view of the door.
She’d had a blissful nap on the sofa to the faint bubbling sound of the aquarium. She’d looked up a website which explained that fish had very acute hearing and could hear all sorts of noises but were very sensitive to any sort of disruptive din. Not that she could blame them – quite obviously, herself and the fish had a few things in common. While she waited for Rosemarie, who was frequently late – apparently, because of ‘who she was’ – Ally gave in to temptation and the dangerous pleasure of checking William out on social media.
While she’d been cocooning, or rather having a mini-breakdown last weekend, William had been hiking in the wilds of Connemara with a crowd of like-minded mates, dressed in trendy fleeces and hats, lounging on massive limestone boulders and drinking from flasks like an ad for Timberland. He was a totally fulfilled human being, and she was a blob. She felt herself deflate like a week-old party balloon. At that moment Rosemarie barged in the door with her usual tsunami of energy, unmissable in her oversized green shaggy coat, giant pink glasses and copper-coloured micro-fringe.
‘For fuck’s sake, I thought I’d never get out of that kip –it’s like Hotel feckin’ California in Celtic Con. Right, what are we having?’ She eyeballed Ally for a second. ‘You look different, what’s up?’
‘Me? Nothing.’
‘Oh my God, don’t you dare be mysterious, you’ve already let me down flat.’
‘What? No. How?’
‘Snogging William against thewalllast Wednesday and not texting me immediately. Then gettingfired, which is awful as I’m now stuck with Crystal, who is trying to manipulate me into doing all the shit she used to dump on you. And the latest is .?.?. she wants me to .?.?. wait for it .?.?. organise the Christmas party. Holy feckin’ God, is there not enough suffering in my life?’
‘Already? God, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s OK, I can take her.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Basic psychology. Crystal is an exhibitionist. Her greatest desire is to be admired, her greatest fear to be overshadowed. So, I start letting her know that I’ve got these great ideas, which I won’t divulge – I’ll just hint at how popular I’m going to make myself with management andpow! She snaps back like the cord on a Hoover.’
‘Wow, I never thought of that. Anyhow, apart from your plots, any news of William?’
‘Yes, unfortunately.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Really? What’s wrong?’
‘What’s wrong is .?.?. When you meet somebody in the lunchroom on Monday and you say “Did you do anything at the weekend?” obviously, the correct response is “Not much, how about you?” which makes everyone happy. In reality, it means you’ve spent a fortune on some frock in Om Diva, thereby blowing any hope of ever saving for the deposit on a house, gone out, got shit-faced in Pyg bar and had rashers in your pyjamason a Sunday. Which is a proper, self-respecting way to spend your weekend. But I mean .?.?. William .?.?. He’s always bloody done something, hasn’t he? Abseiled over the Cliffs of Moher in a Batman costume for charity or something. And we’re all sitting there, feeling like a crowd of losers.’
Ally was delighted to hear this but felt like she had to stick up for him just a bit.
