‘Rich? Is that you?’
‘Anna!’ He looked like a startled rabbit.
‘Rich, how nice to see you.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘You’ve got a great colour.’
‘Er thanks, Anna. It’s good to, er, see you.’
‘Likewise.’
God, he looked so uncomfortable, it was great.
‘Listen, Anna, I’d love to stay and chat but I’m rushing off to an audition.’
‘They’re looking for someone dark, right?’
‘Er . . . right.’
‘Okay, bye then. And congratulations?’
‘Why?’
‘Oh you know,’ Anna smiled at his discomfort.
‘You and Sandra.’
‘Oh yeah. You’re okay about that, aren’t you?’
‘I’m fine. Well, see you.’ She disappeared into the sunroom and closed the door firmly shut. ‘Are you okay?’ Anna mimicked as she undressed. God, the bloody nerve! Who did men think they were?
She was well rid of him anyway, she thought as she relaxed into the heat. Wasn’t he supposed to be broke? Huh! Obviously not too broke for the old sunbed sessions. Men, they were a complete waste of time.
Just as she was beginning to truly relax, the sunbed snapped itself off. Sugar. She’d enjoyed lying there sniggering at the memory of Rich’s face. At least it had taken her mind off Mark somewhat. She redressed quickly, ho
ping the sunbed hadn’t com
pletely ruined her hair.
She ambled up Grafton Street drinking in the lively atmosphere. How Dublin had changed over the past few years. Apparently it was now the ‘in’ place in Europe. People of all nationalities came for weekends to party, party, party.
But they weren’t going to Victoria’s party. No, you’d have to be an eejit to go to that. They came to have fun in Temple Bar and stagger the streets at
2 a.m. singing Ole, Ole, Ole.
How things had changed. Years ago, the only tourists you’d see would be a few Americans dressed from head to toe in green for fear of standing out. Anna had thought they were all extremely rich. People, you know, who’d left a depressed Ireland by boat and had made a fortune over in places like Boston and New York. She’d always thought they were mad to come back to visit Ireland where it rained all the time and was as boring as hell.
A glance at her
watch stopped Anna from day
dreaming further. It was past five. In three hours she’d be at the party. Oh God, oh God, oh God!
Back in her bedroom Anna squeezed her size twelve figure into her clingy black dress, sucked in her tummy, turned sideways and took a long hard look at herself in the full-length mirror. Oh God, would she pass? Would people recognize Anna Allstone? Or would they simply take pity on her, still single after all these years? Poor old Anna. Imagine! She actually fancied her chances with Mark Landon. As if.
She sat down on the bed and cradled her head in her hands. She couldn’t go through with this, she couldn’t. Anna was the worst actress in the world. She couldn’t possibly pull this off without a hitch. What was she going to do?
She didn’t have to go, of course. It wasn’t as if someone was holding a gun to her head. She was a free agent.
It wouldn’t matter if she didn’t turn up. She was a nonentity. Nobody would care if Anna Allstone didn’t show her face.
Stay at home if you want to, she told herself. Go to bed. Go to bed and then tomorrow you can wake up and it will all be over.
She could tell Claire she’d got food poisoning. Food poisoning! Yeah, right. As if Claire would fall for that. Cop on, Anna. You’re a successful career woman with the whole world at your feet. Grow up and act your thirty years.
She needed help. Some Dutch courage. A brandy would help her nerves, wouldn’t it? Just a tiny brandy. It couldn’t hurt.
Right, where was she going to get it? Booting round to the off licence was out of the question.
Surely there was some stacked away in her parents’
sideboard?
She sneaked downstairs, feeling sixteen again. She stopped by the sideboard, praying to God her old man wouldn’t pounce from the kitchen demanding an explanation. She gently eased open the little mahogany door. It creaked loudly. God, it probably hadn’t been opened since last Christmas.
An unopened bottle of vodka stood by the half bottle of brandy. Did Anna imagine it, or was the vodka just screaming to be opened?
Suddenly, she grabbed it and tiptoed back up the stairs, her heart beating a little faster than normal. She felt like a naughty child who’d just nicked the Christmas tin of Quality Street. She sat back down on the bed and studied the unopened bottle. She had to get a mixer. She was nervous, but not
that
nervous. The vodka couldn’t be drunk straight.
‘Oh, Anna, you look as pretty as a picture,’ Mrs Allstone gushed as her daughter tottered into the kitchen in four-inch shoes. ‘Doesn’t she, James?’
Her father looked at her. ‘She could do with a little less muck on her face.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Anna sighed. Jesus, some things never changed.
‘The frock is a bit short,’ Grandad grumbled.
‘Could everybody please give me a break?’ Anna wailed. ‘I only came down to get myself some coke. I’m parched with the thirst.’
‘There’s coke in the fridge, dear,’ said Anna’s mother. ‘Get yourself a glass.’
‘I think I’ll take the bottle up with me,’ Anna avoided her eye, ‘I really am very thirsty.’
Back once more in the privacy of her own room, Anna poured herself a generous measure of vodka and coloured it with a drop of coke. What was she like? Eh? Drinking vodka all by herself at seven o’clock in the evening. Jesus, it was still bright outside.
She took a sip. It burned her throat, nearly killing her. And then another one. Ah, that was better. She took another peep in the mirror. Maybe she didn’t look so bad after all. Her hair had a
because I’m worth it
shine and the sunbed had given her cheeks a healthy just-back-from-the-sun glow.
The dress had cost a small fortune. Anna had nothing to be ashamed of. She was up there with the best of them. She took another gulp of vodka. In fact she looked quite pretty. Even her mother had said so. Her mother didn’t throw compliments out easily. What had she said again? As pretty as a picture. Well, that depended on what picture you were looking at really. As long as it wasn’t a picture of a pig’s arse, Anna chuckled and drank some more vodka. Jesus, this was hot stuff.
She drank some more. Where had her parents got this stuff from anyway? It must have been a Christmas present. God, what a waste. Well, it wasn’t going to waste now, that was sure. Anna
was thoroughly enjoying it. ‘Cheers’ she told her reflection. The reflection smiled back at her. She looked pretty fab, although she said it herself. Pretty fab indeed. Victoria Reddin, eat your heart out!
A knock on the door startled her. Panicked, she ran to her wardrobe and put the half-full bottle at the bottom of it. Half-full! Jesus, had she really drunk that much?
‘Who is it?’ she called.
‘It’s Dad. Do you want a lift to this place or what?’
‘Oh thanks, Dad, that’d be great.’
She sat in the passenger seat of her father’s car aware that her dress was riding up along her thighs. She placed her coat on her lap to avoid any comment.
God, it was still bright. Anna caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror. Was it her imagination or did her make-up look like it had been caked on with a shovel?
Mr Allstone drove from Stillorgan to Blackrock at like ten miles per hour. Anytime tonight, Dad please, Anna thought as she crossed her legs tightly underneath her coat. Why hadn’t she gone to the toilet before she left the house? Ha! She could just imagine her introduction. ‘Hi, everybody, where’s the loo?’
Sophisticated or what? But who cared? Anna didn’t any more. It was just a stupid reunion thingy. Full of silly twits she went to school with. Who cared
about them? They had the problem, not her. Anna Allstone was a big success with a hugely important job in London. She was single out of choice. Any fool could get a man. The world was crawling with them. Why should Anna settle for second best? Why? She was too fussy, that’s what she was. Anna was one fussy babe.
‘Do you think this could be it?’ Mr Allstone turned the corner into Cherrylog Avenue.
‘Well, judging by all the Beamers and Mercs it must be,’ Anna muttered. ‘Let me out here, Daddy. No seriously, you don’t have to park right outside the front door. Thanks, Daddy. Goodnight, bye.’
Anna walked unsteadily along the tree-lined gravel drive, staring ahead. A uniformed man was directing the cars into parking spaces. Who was that, Anna wondered. The house was more like a hotel. Anna wondered what it had
cost. Easily a million. Prob
ably more like two. A majestic stone mansion with Georgian windows, flanked by a hard tennis court on one side, an indoor swimming pool surrounded by glass walls on the other. Wow! The Reddins must be millionaires several times over. Anna suddenly didn’t feel as brave any more. All this was very intimidating.
She mounted the stone steps and took a deep breath. She hoped she wasn’t the first to arrive. Please let Claire and Simon be there already, she silently begged. Oh please don’t leave me in there all on my own.
She rang the long brass doorbell nervously. The huge wooden doors
opened slowly. A haughty-
looking middle-aged man in coat tails gave a formal little bow. Ah Jesus, this was a bit over the top. It was supposed to be a school reunion for crying out loud.
‘Good evening, madam,’ he said tonelessly. ‘And you are?’
‘Anna Allstone,’ she replied, wondering who the hell he thought she was. The hired help? With a red pen he struck her name meticulously off a long list.
‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘May I take your coat?’
God, this was all very serious, she thought. She handed over her coat before being assaulted by a tray of champagne glasses. Christ, she needed one of those. Badly.
‘Thank you.’ She took a glass from the young girl dressed in a crisp white blouse and tight black skirt.
‘Er, where is everybody?’
‘The rest of the guests are in the drawing room,’
the girl spoke in a hushed voice.
‘And where’s the bathroom?’ Anna whispered back as if it might be a crime to raise one’s voice.
‘Up the stairs and to the right.’
Anna mounted the sweeping stairs uneasily. She was hating this already. The atmosphere in this big old grand house seemed fraught with tension. She wanted to leave. Would anybody notice if she slipped back out again? Imagine wanting to escape and the evening hadn’t even begun! There was still
time to go, she thought. Nothing was stopping her from turning on her heels and walking straight back out again. But no, she was here now, determined to see this bloody night through if it killed her.
The bathroom was as big as the apartment back in Galway. The carpet easily swallowed her four-inch heels. She sat on the toilet, aware that her head was spinning. Was it the vodka? Maybe she should stay away from the champagne.
‘Is there anyone in there?’ Somebody was rapping lightly on the door.
‘Just a minute,’ she called.
She flushed the toilet and steadied herself before opening the door.
‘Anna Allstone, well there’s a blast from the past.’
Anna stood face to face with Carole Levine, a girl who’d very much aid
ed Victoria in making every
body’s schooldays hell. Carole had put on weight, Anna noticed gleefully. And too many holidays in the sun hadn’t been kind to her skin either. She wore a loose white viscose dress that looked like it might fall off at any minute.
‘Carole, gosh you
’ve changed.’ Anna’s eyes wid
ened exaggeratedly. For the worse.
‘Is that good or bad?’
The look on Anna’s face said it all. ‘Good of course,’ she mumbled unconvincingly.
‘Anyway, how are you?’ Carole went on. ‘Isn’t this just fabulous? The house is divine, isn’t it?
And Victoria looks amazing, as usual. She’s dying to meet you and your partner. Your partner is here, isn’t he?’
‘Well no,’ Anna began, ‘I––’
‘Oh, he’s away on business or something, is he? I hate when Aidan has to go away, which is quite often, you know. His job is really important. But don’t worry about it. You’re here with old friends. We’ll look
after you.’ Carole patted
her arm condescendingly.