Sushi for Beginners
Page 69
Fifteen minutes from start to finish and all over for another month. Clodagh sighed with contentment. Thank God he wasn’t one of those men who insisted on pleasuring you all night long. She’d have had to kill herself long ago if that had been the case.
Ted and Ashling whizzed through the darkened streets, en route to the Cigar Room, for ‘just the ten’. When they dismounted the bike, Ted slapped his palm on his forehead in a gesture that looked vaguely rehearsed.
‘Well, feck it,’ he exclaimed, with ire that, oddly, lacked conviction. ‘I’m after leaving my jacket at Clodagh’s. I’ll have to call around during the week to collect it.’
In a house in a bleak, sea-facing corner of Ringsend, Jack and Mai were just about wrapping up their reunion ride. Earlier, Mai had been stunned by Jack arriving at her flat and apologizing for not having greeted her at the office yesterday with enough warmth for her liking. Then he’d whisked her to his house, where he fed her, poured good wine into her, and took her to bed.
He was so unexpectedly sweet that while they were making love, she didn’t – as she often did – pretend to look at her watch. A couple of times recently she’d even used the remote control to switch on the telly while they were on the job. It had driven him wild. ‘It’s a bit more interesting than what you’re doing to me,’ had been her explanation, although it wasn’t true. But it kept him insecure and kept her in control.
Hard work, mind.
They lay in a post-coital glow. ‘You’re wonderful,’ he said out of nowhere.
‘Am I?’ She sat up on her elbow and shot him a provocative, malicious smile. ‘Except I’ve crap taste in men, right?’ She braced herself for a spiky come-back from Jack, but he just busied himself winding his fingers in her long hair. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, high with surprise.
‘Couldn’t be better. Why?’
‘Nothing.’
Mai was badly confused. Why wasn’t Jack giving as good as he got? He usually managed to give better than he got.
‘Tomorrow afternoon I’m going to visit my parents,’ he said.
Mai rolled her eyes. ‘Nice one! And what am I? Chopped liver?’
This was one of their favourite rows – the lack of time Jack had for Mai. But Jack interrupted Mai’s fledgling rant by saying, ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Where?’ She was astonished. ‘To meet them?’
When Jack nodded she wailed, ‘But what will I wear? I’ll have to go home and change first.’
‘No bother.’
Mai snuck another confused look at him. This was very weird. Maybe… perhaps… could it be that all her game-playing and manipulation had actually worked? That she’d finally got Jack where she wanted him… ?
31
Lisa woke up on Sunday morning, and instantly wished she hadn’t. Something about the quality of the stillness beyond her bedroom window was telling her that it was very, very early. And she didn’t want it to be very, very early. She’d like it to be very late. Preferably mid-afternoon. Ideally, already tomorrow.
She lay still, her ears straining for the sounds of mothers shouting, children fighting, the heads being pulled off Barbies, anything that might indicate that the world outside was in motion. But apart from a gaggle of birds camped in her garden, chirping and cheeping like they’d won the lottery, she heard nothing.
When she could no longer bear not knowing, she turned over in her rumpled bed and warily confronted the alarm clock. Seven-naffing-thirty. In the morning.
The bank-holiday weekend was taking for ever to pass. Exacerbated, no doubt, by the fact that she was entirely on her own.
For some reason she hadn’t expected that she’d have to endure it solo. During the week, she’d had at the back of her mind that Ashling would ask her along for a drink, or to a party, or to meet that mad Joy or Ted or something. Let’s face it, it seemed that Ashling was perpetually inviting her to things. But on Friday evening, giddy and giggly after the champagne orgy, it wasn’t until she reached home and had sobered up considerably that she realized that no invitation had been issued by Ashling. Cheeky cow. Bombarding her with invites which she didn’t want, then neglecting to issue them when she could have done with them!
Moodily she lit a cigarette, breaking her rule about not smoking in bed.
What was it about living in Dublin? In London she’d never had spare time. There had been an endless pile-up of appointments awaiting her rejection. And, in the rare cases when there had been any unexpected leisure time, she could always fill it with work.
But not here. It had been impossible to organize any appointments for the weekend. All the lazy-bastard journos and hairdressers and DJs and designers were going away, and even if they weren’t, they were in kick-back mode and disinclined to meet her.
Worse still, she couldn’t go into work on Monday because the building wouldn’t be open. As soon as she’d heard on Friday morning, she’d marched straight into Jack’s office and kicked up a right stink. ‘Can’t the porter, what’s his name – Bill? – come to let me in and then go straight home again?’
‘On a bank holiday?’ Jack had seemed genuinely amused. ‘Bill? Not a hope of it.’
Lazy, shiftless pillock, Lisa had thought, in impotent fury. In London, they’d always come to let her in.
‘Why don’t you take it easy?’ Jack had advised. ‘You’ve achieved so much in such a short time, you deserve a rest.’
But she didn’t want a rest, she was too hyper. Three entire days, how was she going to fill them? And why didn’t he suggest that they did something together, she’d wondered in frustration. She knew he was interested in her, she’d seen it more than once in his face.
‘Go out on the town. Have a few drinks,’ he’d urged.
With whom?
She’d contemplated going to London for the weekend, but was too ashamed. Where would she stay? Her flat had tenants in and she’d let her friendships lapse – most of them bit the dust during the frenzied empire-building she’d done in the past two years and the only person she’d ever given any of her precious time to was Fifi. But she’d been too mortified to contact Fifi since she’d been banished to Ireland. If she went to London she’d have to stay in a hotel like a – she shuddered – like a… tourist
Ted and Ashling whizzed through the darkened streets, en route to the Cigar Room, for ‘just the ten’. When they dismounted the bike, Ted slapped his palm on his forehead in a gesture that looked vaguely rehearsed.
‘Well, feck it,’ he exclaimed, with ire that, oddly, lacked conviction. ‘I’m after leaving my jacket at Clodagh’s. I’ll have to call around during the week to collect it.’
In a house in a bleak, sea-facing corner of Ringsend, Jack and Mai were just about wrapping up their reunion ride. Earlier, Mai had been stunned by Jack arriving at her flat and apologizing for not having greeted her at the office yesterday with enough warmth for her liking. Then he’d whisked her to his house, where he fed her, poured good wine into her, and took her to bed.
He was so unexpectedly sweet that while they were making love, she didn’t – as she often did – pretend to look at her watch. A couple of times recently she’d even used the remote control to switch on the telly while they were on the job. It had driven him wild. ‘It’s a bit more interesting than what you’re doing to me,’ had been her explanation, although it wasn’t true. But it kept him insecure and kept her in control.
Hard work, mind.
They lay in a post-coital glow. ‘You’re wonderful,’ he said out of nowhere.
‘Am I?’ She sat up on her elbow and shot him a provocative, malicious smile. ‘Except I’ve crap taste in men, right?’ She braced herself for a spiky come-back from Jack, but he just busied himself winding his fingers in her long hair. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, high with surprise.
‘Couldn’t be better. Why?’
‘Nothing.’
Mai was badly confused. Why wasn’t Jack giving as good as he got? He usually managed to give better than he got.
‘Tomorrow afternoon I’m going to visit my parents,’ he said.
Mai rolled her eyes. ‘Nice one! And what am I? Chopped liver?’
This was one of their favourite rows – the lack of time Jack had for Mai. But Jack interrupted Mai’s fledgling rant by saying, ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Where?’ She was astonished. ‘To meet them?’
When Jack nodded she wailed, ‘But what will I wear? I’ll have to go home and change first.’
‘No bother.’
Mai snuck another confused look at him. This was very weird. Maybe… perhaps… could it be that all her game-playing and manipulation had actually worked? That she’d finally got Jack where she wanted him… ?
31
Lisa woke up on Sunday morning, and instantly wished she hadn’t. Something about the quality of the stillness beyond her bedroom window was telling her that it was very, very early. And she didn’t want it to be very, very early. She’d like it to be very late. Preferably mid-afternoon. Ideally, already tomorrow.
She lay still, her ears straining for the sounds of mothers shouting, children fighting, the heads being pulled off Barbies, anything that might indicate that the world outside was in motion. But apart from a gaggle of birds camped in her garden, chirping and cheeping like they’d won the lottery, she heard nothing.
When she could no longer bear not knowing, she turned over in her rumpled bed and warily confronted the alarm clock. Seven-naffing-thirty. In the morning.
The bank-holiday weekend was taking for ever to pass. Exacerbated, no doubt, by the fact that she was entirely on her own.
For some reason she hadn’t expected that she’d have to endure it solo. During the week, she’d had at the back of her mind that Ashling would ask her along for a drink, or to a party, or to meet that mad Joy or Ted or something. Let’s face it, it seemed that Ashling was perpetually inviting her to things. But on Friday evening, giddy and giggly after the champagne orgy, it wasn’t until she reached home and had sobered up considerably that she realized that no invitation had been issued by Ashling. Cheeky cow. Bombarding her with invites which she didn’t want, then neglecting to issue them when she could have done with them!
Moodily she lit a cigarette, breaking her rule about not smoking in bed.
What was it about living in Dublin? In London she’d never had spare time. There had been an endless pile-up of appointments awaiting her rejection. And, in the rare cases when there had been any unexpected leisure time, she could always fill it with work.
But not here. It had been impossible to organize any appointments for the weekend. All the lazy-bastard journos and hairdressers and DJs and designers were going away, and even if they weren’t, they were in kick-back mode and disinclined to meet her.
Worse still, she couldn’t go into work on Monday because the building wouldn’t be open. As soon as she’d heard on Friday morning, she’d marched straight into Jack’s office and kicked up a right stink. ‘Can’t the porter, what’s his name – Bill? – come to let me in and then go straight home again?’
‘On a bank holiday?’ Jack had seemed genuinely amused. ‘Bill? Not a hope of it.’
Lazy, shiftless pillock, Lisa had thought, in impotent fury. In London, they’d always come to let her in.
‘Why don’t you take it easy?’ Jack had advised. ‘You’ve achieved so much in such a short time, you deserve a rest.’
But she didn’t want a rest, she was too hyper. Three entire days, how was she going to fill them? And why didn’t he suggest that they did something together, she’d wondered in frustration. She knew he was interested in her, she’d seen it more than once in his face.
‘Go out on the town. Have a few drinks,’ he’d urged.
With whom?
She’d contemplated going to London for the weekend, but was too ashamed. Where would she stay? Her flat had tenants in and she’d let her friendships lapse – most of them bit the dust during the frenzied empire-building she’d done in the past two years and the only person she’d ever given any of her precious time to was Fifi. But she’d been too mortified to contact Fifi since she’d been banished to Ireland. If she went to London she’d have to stay in a hotel like a – she shuddered – like a… tourist
