They ate lunch in Milano’s on Dawson Street. Claire ordered pasta and found it difficult to eat after the huge slice of carrot cake. But she decided not to tell Simon the real reason for the trip into town. There was no point.
Arriving home later that evening with a couple of large Mothercare bags and a couple of Bewley’s cakes, Claire pushed open the front door. It had been a great day altogether and she was looking forward to putting her feet up and enjoying a nice relaxing evening with her family.
Fiona stood in the hallway looking completely worn out. Andrew was lying on the floor having the mother of all tantrums, flinging toys all around the place.
‘Simon rang a second ago,’ Fiona told Claire. ‘He says not to leave out any dinner for him ’cos he won’t be home.’
‘He won’t be home,’ Claire echoed parrot-like, ‘I see.’
June poked Anna’s shoulder blade roughly. ‘Did you not hear me calling for you? There’s someone on the phone.’
‘Who?’ Anna was up to her ears in dust trying to sort out boxes of ladies stockings from the men’s briefs. All the numbers on the boxes were higgledy- piggledy and they were three staff down, Elaine was on holiday and the computer system had just crashed. Again. In all a typical day at Lolta’s.
‘Head office.’ June’s beady eyes bore through her.
‘Good news?’ Anna asked and then immediately regretted it.
‘I don’t know,’ June snapped, ‘news from head office is confidential information.’
Dazed, Anna made her way to the phone in Mr Evans’s office. ‘Anna Allstone speaking,’ she said with a brightness she definitely didn’t feel. Then, as if in a distant dream, s
he heard Mr Walton’s voice con
gratulating her on her new position. She’d be starting the following Monday, he said. Anna, half hugging the receiver, thanked him politely before handing it back to a vicious-looking June. She watched the older woman put th
e phone down and utter a stran
gled ‘Congratulations’.
‘Thank you very much,’ Anna said with saccharine sweetness. ‘I know you wanted this for me almost as much as I did myself.’
The rest of the week passed in a blur. A multitude of things had to be organized. Her landlord had to be given notice, her new company car had to be collected and her parents had to be called with the good news. Oh and God, yes, she had to find somewhere new to live!
She didn’t contact Mark. She just avoided it. Probably because she wasn’t sure what to say to him. In a way, she was afraid he might make her change her mind or something. And she was determined not to let anyone do that. She’d give him a call when she was settled in Galway. That’s what she’d do. Invite him up to visit her some weekend. And she was relieved Elaine was out of the country so she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her either. Her parents were, not over the moon maybe, but somewhere up there with the stars anyway. Claire had cried on the phone, her reaction somewhat over the top, Anna thought. She was going to Galway, for God’s sake, not the other side of the fecking world!
She hooked up with Rich for a boozy night of celebrations in Lillies. He swore blindly that he’d miss her, ordered a bottle of champagne and then remembered that he’d forgotten his credit card. Anna happily paid for it and for the subsequent taxi fare back to her place. She felt sorry for Rich tied up in the badly paid world of acting while she, Anna Allstone, was heading for a major career in retailing. Sure wasn’t it only fair of her to foot the bill?
Stumbling out of the taxi as he gallantly held the door open for her, she tried to recall if there ever had been a time he actually
had
paid for
anything
. But her mind was blank. Too much champagne and all that. Then suddenly she remembered. Of course! He’d sent her that magnificent bunch of flowers on Valentine’s, hadn’t he? How could she have forgotten that? Had she ever got round to thanking him?
She tried to remind him and thank him in the bedroom as he unbuttoned the front of her shirt and showered her neck with butterfly kisses. He didn’t respond so she tried again.
‘Sorry?’ It suddenly dawned on him that she was trying to tell him something. ‘What flowers?’
She withdrew from his embrace and eyed him suspiciously.
‘You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?’
she asked coldly.
‘Nope.’ He shrugged and went to unbutton his jeans.
‘I think you’d better go,’ she said icily.
‘Why?’ he asked foolishly, his fly halfway down.
‘What’s the matter, hon?’
‘Hon is sick,’ she answered sarcastically.
Sick of being taken for a ride by deadbeats like you
. ‘Now please go.’
‘I’ve no money to get home,’ he said sulkily, dressing himself reluctantly.
‘No mon, no fun . . . hon.’
‘What’s the matter with all you women?’ he spouted angrily. ‘You all turn out the same in the end. You’re all users.’
‘Really?’ Anna showed him the door. ‘That’s very interesting. Though what exactly we use you for I certainly cannot imagine.’
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. She heard him go downstairs. Another door slammed. Good. Good riddance!
It all made sense now. Mark had obviously sent the flowers. Of course he had. Sure God, why hadn’t she seen it? Why had she credited Rich with the gesture – Rich who never did anything but watch other people’s TV while drinking their beer. She was a silly girl for not giving him the boot long ago.
The car wouldn’t be ready for another three weeks, Mr Walton’s secretary apologized but she was to hang on to any travelling expenses. The Dublin– Galway train was only half full. Anna settled herself into an empty booth and flicked aimlessly through the
Irish Times
. After a while she was sorry she hadn’t bought
Marie Claire
or some trashy novel. The
Irish Times
was a bit too heavy this morning – she couldn’t even manage the simplex crossword!
As the train rushed towards the West, the clouds got darker and the drizzle started. Oh good. That must be a sign they were near Galway.
Nobody was meeting Anna at the train station so, with the detached curiosity of a tourist stumbling on unfamiliar territory, s
he followed the other passen
gers who seemed to be heading towards town.
On Shop Street she
asked a pedestrian for direc
tions to Lolta’s. He confused her with so many instructions that she reckoned she’d be better off just figuring it out for herself.
Eventually, after much traipsing around on tired feet, she stumbled across Lolta’s Galway. It was a large grey building casting a shadow over its optimistically vast car park.
A building with eyes
, Anna thought uneasily.
Her heavy bag weighing on her right shoulder, she wandered through the main door and approached a rather colourless woman in a fading grey suit. This must be Miss Browne, she reckoned and introduced herself.
Miss Browne shook Ann
a’s hand firmly and wel
comed her to the store as the shop assistants checked out their new assistant manager with interest.
‘I hope you’ll be very happy here,’ she said in a tone that seemed to say ‘I actually think you’ll hate it’.
Anna was marched around the large store being introduced to staff who cautiously sized her up. They were well used to managers coming and going – it was part and parcel of retailing. But while some managers could be right walkovers, others could be weapons. They reckoned this well-dressed girl with the pretty face and fair hair tied in a high ponytail would be somewhere in between.
The strange thing about moving store was that, no matter how competent and confident you were, you still felt like a new schoolgirl on your first day trying to find out where on earth the toilets were.
Fortunately Grainne had given her the number of her sister Aoife, a final year student in UCG who happened to be looking for a flatmate at the moment. Anna was currently staying in a B&B where Lolta’s were putting her up for three nights.
She dialled Aoife’s number later from the foyer of the B&B. She was dubious enough about sharing with any relative of Grainne’s. Would Aoife be as mad in the head as her sister?
‘Hello?’ the warm voice came through the line.
‘Hi . . . it’s er Anna, I’m . . .’
‘Anna! I’ve been expecting your call. Listen, where exactly are you? I’ll come and collect you if you like.’
‘Yeah, well that’s very nice of you.’ God, she was enthusiastic. Maybe she was a raving loony. Suppose her last flatmate had vanished in the middle of the night? ‘I’m in
The Seaside Inn
.’
‘Oh yeah, that’s in Salthill, isn’t it? I’m not far from there. The flat’s in Rahoon. I’ll be about ten minutes?’
‘Sure. Thanks a lot.’
Anna waited on the windy steps, facing the rough Atlantic sea and feeling severe bouts of indecision. Rahoon was a good bit out from the centre, wasn’t it? She wasn’t too sure about living that far out. Mind you, she didn’t want to be too near work either. Then your days off wouldn’t really feel like days off, would they? And she didn’t want to be ringing up people advert
ising flat shares in the news
papers. You heard so many horror stories, didn’t you? Better the devil you know, eh?
A battered green Renault 5 screeched to a halt outside the B&B. A fresh-faced, auburn-haired girl stuck her head out of the window.
‘Anna?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’ Anna smiled, prised open the rusty passenger door and climbed in.
Aoife shook her hand vigorously. ‘Welcome to Galway,’ she enthused. ‘How was your first day in the new job?’
‘Fine, fine.’ Anna hoped Aoife wasn’t someone who would want her to talk about work all day long. ‘You don’t look a bit like Grainne,’ she said in an effort to change subjects.
‘That’s what everyone says,’ Aoife laughed. ‘Mammy must’ve kept herself busy,’ she winked.
Anna felt herself relax almost immediately. Aoife’s high hedonistic spirits were contagious. The apartment was fine. Included all the basics. And it wasn’t far from the shopping centre – an essential for hangover and couldn’t-possibly-get-into-the-car-and-drive-to- the-shop days.
‘The rent is pretty reasonable,’ Aoife explained.
‘And it’s not too far from the prom – great for exercising,’ she continued hopefully.
Anna drank in her surroundings – clean wooden floors, cream-painted w
alls, a modern-looking fire
place she wasn’t crazy about – but hey, you can’t have everything!
There was a double
bed in her room. ‘You’re wel
come to have guests of course,’ Aoife said hurriedly. Guests? Ha ha!
‘Great,’ Anna said non-committally.
‘Listen, do you want to go away and think about it?’ Aoife wondered. ‘You might want to take a look at a few more places and . . .’
‘No, I’ll take it,’ Anna answered straightaway. ‘I kind of want to settle in as soon as possible, you know?’
‘Great,’ Aoife sounded genuinely thrilled. ‘Grainne said she’d a feeling the two of us would hit it off. By the way, she said some fella was round at the flat asking for you earlier on. Does the name Mark ring a bell?’
Victoria Reddin sat upstairs in the bar of the Westbury Hotel and sucked on a Marlboro Light. Where the hell had Olive Lexon got to? This was
not
the place to be seen all on your own. The silly cow for making her wait around like this. Five more minutes and she was out of there.
She’d a lot on her plate at the moment what with caterers messing
her about and that unreli
able DJ cancelling at the last minute because his daughter had gone and got herself involved in a road accident. What had happened to honest-to-God workers? People just weren’t grateful for a bit of work any more. There were now foreigners and all kinds of riff-raff running around causing havoc! Not that she’d ever really consider doing the odd day’s work herself mind. No
thank
you, she just wasn’t into it at all. She didn’t agree with these ambitious women you met sometimes who boasted about all the hours they worked as if that was something to be proud of ! Bloody fools, Victoria thought, privately.
Let the men do the work!