Sushi for Beginners
Page 106

Plainly, he was hurt by her visiting her parents, but just how bad was the damage? For a moment she considered the possibility that it was irreparable, and the accompanying squeeze of terror left her weak. She really, really, really liked Marcus. He was the closest to Mr Right she’d met in a long time. She was dying for Sunday evening, because he’d asked her to call him then. But what if he still didn’t answer the phone… ? Christ!
‘We usually watch a video on a Saturday night,’ her mother informed her.
From Here to Eternity – how appropriate, Ashling thought, as the evening stretched like chewing gum. Chilled by exclusion, she ached to be in Dublin, with her boyfriend. All the while Burt Lancaster romped with Deborah Kerr, Ashling was wondering how Marcus was getting on, and if Clodagh and Ted had gone to the gig. It shamed her that she hoped they hadn’t, that it would make her feel even more left out.
Her parents tried very, very hard. Producing a bag of pick’n’mix that had been bought specially for her, tentatively offering her a ‘drink’while they drank tea, and, when she went to bed at a shamefully early ten-twenty, her mother insisting on filling a hot-water bottle for her.
‘It’s July, I’ll roast!’
‘Ah, but the nights can be cold. And it’ll be August in two days’ time, officially Autumn.’
‘Oh no, nearly August already.’ Ashling squeezed her eyes shut in breath-shortening fear. Colleen was due to be launched on the last day of August and there was still a titanic quantity of work to be done – on the bloody launch party as well as the magazine. While it was still July, she’d been able to reassure herself that they had plenty of time. August felt way, way, way too close for comfort.
Grasping a dog-eared Agatha Christie from the shelf, she read for fifteen minutes, then switched off the peach-shaded lamp. She slept as well as could be expected beneath a peach duvet and in the morning the first thing she did was switch on her mobile, praying there would be a message from Marcus. There wasn’t – this was her darkest hour. Which wasn’t helped by the peach and white stripy wallpaper moving in on her. Reaching for her cigarettes, she upended a little bowl of pot-pourri. Peach flavoured, wouldn’t you know it.
She couldn’t ring him again. He’d think she was desperate. Of course, she was desperate, but she didn’t want him to think it. Instead she rang Clodagh, half-looking for information, but half-hoping that Clodagh wouldn’t be in the position to offer any.
‘Did you go to see Marcus?’ She clenched her spare fist and willed her to say no.
‘Yes – ’
‘You went with Ted?’
‘Sure did.’ This plunged Ashling further into dread. She didn’t really think there was any chance that Clodagh would touch Ted with a bargepole, it was just…
Clodagh chattered on. ‘We had a great time and Marcus was fantastic. He did this hilarious thing about women’s clothes. About the difference between a blouse, a top, a vest, a T-shir –’
‘He what?’ Never mind Ted and Clodagh! Ashling was suddenly concerned with herself.
‘He even knew what a shell-top was,’ Clodagh exclaimed.
‘I bet he did.’ Ashling knew she should be flattered, but instead she felt used. Marcus hadn’t even told her he was thinking of including their conversation in his act.
‘It beats me how he thinks of these things,’ Clodagh frothed.
That’s because he doesn’t.
‘And afterwards?’ Ashling asked jealously, not sure if she could take any more unwelcome news. ‘You went home?’
‘Not at all, we went backstage, met Eddie Izzard, got jarred. Fantastic!’
The farewell to her parents, draining at the best of times, was worse than usual.
‘Do you have a boyfriend at all?’ Mike asked jovially, unintentionally rubbing salt into Ashling’s very raw wound. ‘Bring him the next time too.’
Oh, dont’t.
Every carriage was jam-packed and she was weary and Sunday-evening depressed when, three hours later, the train pulled into Dublin. She pushed towards the taxi-rank, hoping the queues wouldn’t be too insane, when through the crowds milling about on the concourse she saw someone she knew…
‘Marcus! ‘ Her skin sparked with joy at the sight of him standing near the exit, wearing a sheepish smile. ‘What are you doing here?!’
‘Collecting my girlfriend. Often there’s a long queue for the taxis, I’m told.’
A delighted laugh bubbled from her. Suddenly she was wildly happy.
He took her bag in one hand and slung his other arm around her. ‘Hey, I’m sorry about…’
‘It’s OK! I’m sorry too.
Our first argument, she thought dreamily, as he steered her to his car. Our first proper row. Now we really are a couple.
47
The pile of discarded clothes on Clodagh’s bed grew higher. The tight black dress? Too sexy. The palazzo pants and tunic? Too glam. The see-through dress? Too see-through. What about the white pants? But he’d seen them already. The combats and trainers? No, she just felt silly in them. Of all the fashionable clothes she’d bought over the past two months, they’d been her biggest mistake so far.
For a moment the cloud of clothing anxiety cleared and she was inflicted with a sudden, unwelcome overview. What am I doing?
Nothing, she thought defensively. She was doing nothing. She was meeting someone for a cup of coffee. A friend. A friend who happened to be a man. What was the problem? This wasn’t some Muslim country where she’d be stoned for being seen in public with a man who wasn’t her husband or brother. Anyway, he wasn’t even her type. She was just having fun. Harmless fun.
But she shook back her swishy hair, feeling exhilarated, buzzy, tingly.
Black trousers and a tight candy-pink T-shirt were what she eventually decided on. She looked into the mirror and she saw herself through his eyes. His regard for her was endearingly obvious and she felt beautiful and powerful.
Coffee, she reminded herself firmly, as she swung out into the street. That’s all. Where’s the harm in that? And she pushed away the guilt and anticipation that swirled nauseously in her belly.
*
Ashling raced into the pub. She was late. Again.
‘Marcus,’ she gasped. ‘I’m so sorry. Bitch-face Lisa decided at the last minute to make me input my horse-riding feature. She wants to get a “feel” for the November issue.’ She rolled her eyes contemptuously and luckily Marcus joined in. So he couldn’t have been too pissed off at being left sitting in the Thomas Reid for nearly half an hour.