Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [125]
The atmosphere was fraught and the work kept coming. No one had less than three projects awaiting attention at any one time.
Ashling was keying in the New-Age horoscopes when Lisa dumped an armful of hair-care stuff on her desk and said, ‘A thousand words. Make it –’
‘I know, sexy.’
Looking for a theme for her page, Ashling surveyed the products piled on her desk. There was a volumizing mousse, a hair-spray that promised to ‘lift’ the roots, and a ‘bodifying’ shampoo – all paraphernalia for women wanting big hair. But then there was also anti-frizz masque, smoothing complex, and leave-in conditioner. All for those women who liked their hair flattened against their heads. How could she reconcile the two? How could her piece have any consistency? Back and forth she agonized. Was it possible to have big hair and flat hair? Or could she try to pretend that your hair needed to be flat before it could be big, thereby inventing a whole new set of worries for big-haired women? But no, that would be too cruel: having this kind of power brought responsibility. She sighed and broke off another piece of her white-chocolate muffin. Then – perhaps it was the sugar rush – she had a brainwave that, after the deadlock, took on the momentousness of the discovery of the law of gravity. Her piece would start off, ‘No matter what you want from your hair…’
‘Eureka!’ she declared, giddy with relief.
‘What’s that then?’ Jack called from the photocopier.
‘I’ve been so worried!’ Ashling waved a hand over the tubes and cans. ‘All this stuff, there was no pattern to it. But everything fell into place once I realized that different women want different things for their hair.’
‘Different women want different things for their hair,’ Jack repeated good-humouredly. ‘Profound. That’s got to be up there with Einstein’s theory of relativity… Time is not an absolute,’ he scoffed, ‘but depends on the shininess of the observer’s hair in space. And space is not an absolute, but depends on the shininess of the observer’s hair in time. What a worthwhile job we do here!’
Ashling wavered, wondering if she should take offence, but Jack beat her to it.
‘Sorry,’ he said, suddenly humble. ‘Only having a laugh.’
‘That’s what’s so worrying,’ Trix threw into Ashling’s ear.
‘Have you finished typing in Jasper Ffrench’s piece yet?’ Lisa snapped at Trix.
‘Yes.’
Lisa came and looked over Trix’s shoulder. ‘Aphrodisiac is not spelt with an “f”, there’s only one “y” in oyster and it’s asparagus, not asparagrass. Familiarize yourself with your spell-checker.’
‘I never had to spell-check anything before.’
‘Things are different now. Colleen is a class act.’
‘I thought we were sexy,’ Trix challenged mulishly.
‘It’s possible to be both. Oi! Mercedes! Where are you on the “fuck-me-slingbacks” piece?’
Not exactly challenging work, but necessary. And exhausting.
Ashling was dog-tired. As well as the long, stressful days, she was carrying a niggling worry at how abruptly things had ended with Marcus on Monday night. Why hadn’t she gone to bed with him? It wasn’t exactly as if she’d been saving it for her wedding night, she acknowledged ruefully. But she’d always resisted change and it was a long time since she’d slept with someone who wasn’t Phelim.
With a sing-song sigh, she accepted that life was hard for the modern woman. In the old days, the rule was that you had to hold off sleeping with a man for as long as possible. But now the rule seemed to be that if you wanted to hold on to him you’d better deliver the goods asap.
Marcus didn’t ring on Tuesday night or Wednesday night, and though Joy spoke long and loud about something called the three-day rule, Ashling said, ‘But what if he never rings again?’
‘Let’s face it, he mightn’t – men work in mysterious ways. But you certainly won’t hear from him this evening. Do something else, use the time constructively – any washing to be done? Paint you need to watch drying? Because tonight’s the night.’
Ashling promised herself that if Marcus rang again she’d definitely sleep with him.
On her