‘That’s what worries me,’ Candice declares.
‘You have a date later. But I am warning you now, if you mess me around, I swear to God I’ll break your legs. You’ll never play another day of rugby in your life.’ Her tone may be jovial, but the warning’s clear. I’d be a fool not to acknowledge the weight behind every single word. She’s been hurt by somebody. I want to make sure it never happens again.
We return to the studio together. Abby can’t look either Candice or Aoife in the eye. We discuss where to take someone you want to impress on a first date and when’s appropriate to introduce a partner to your family, blah blah blah. All I can think about is getting Abby Queenan into my bed and making her mine.
As the questions end, when I can see the sweet finishing line, the live calls begin, just to really test me.
The first caller asks my opinion on which style of vaginal waxing men prefer. It’s possibly the first time in my entire life that I’m stuck for a one-liner. As I ‘umm’ and ‘ahh’ my way through it, Abby comes to my rescue with the number of a Dublin based salon who caters for all ‘styles’ apparently. I realise afterwards that it’s her friend’s salon, the brunette from Carton House.
The second live caller is a man wanting to know what I think of ‘sexual experimentation’ by which he blatantly asks if I have, or would ever consider, playing for the other team. And I’m not talking about Scotland. My answer is an instant resounding no. Abby put her hands over her microphone to stifle her laughter.
‘Now, we have time for just one more caller before we finish up for today. Who do we have on the line?’ Abby pulls herself expertly back into presenter mode.
‘It’s Sean,’ a voice states aggressively across the line.
Abby pales and struggles for a response. Horror creeps onto every single one of her perfect facial features. Her lips freeze, forming a small o shape before opening and closing twice. Nothing comes out.
She saved me more than once today; I step in and return the favour.
‘Hi, Sean, thanks for calling. What can we help you with today?’ I clear my throat and summon the most professional radio voice I can muster.
‘I’m glad you asked me that, Callum,’ he practically spits. ‘What I really want to know is, how exactly long have you been sleeping with my fiancée?’
Abby acts out drastic cutthroat motions with her hands to Aoife, to cut off our caller on line one. The first few bars of Take That resound over the speakers with ‘Back For Good’. Abby mutes it instantly.
‘What the fuck was that about?’
‘That, Callum, is the reason I don’t date.’ She takes a shaky sip from a bottle of still water on the desk in front of her and stands.
‘Aoife, can you finish up here for me? Thank Callum once again on air and remind them to tune in at the same time tomorrow.’ Abby leaves the room quietly, and for the first time since the day I met her, I’m unsure if I should follow her.
