Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [137]
Ashling was unaware of Clodagh’s bitter disappointment. Her mind was on Marcus as she wondered if she should tempt fate. ‘Great,’ she answered. ‘Fantastic, in fact.’
‘It sounds serious,’ Clodagh needled.
Again Ashling hesitated. ‘Maybe.’ Then added because she felt she should, ‘But it’s early days.’
It didn’t feel like early days, though. They saw each other at least three times a week and shared an easiness and intimacy that seemed to belong to a much longer relationship. And the sex had greatly improved… She barely gave her tarot cards a glance these days, and her little Buddha was sorely neglected.
‘Oh, Ted rang. He’s on next Saturday,’ Clodagh said.
Ashling paused, and tried to push down the eruption of dirty emotion. She did not want to encourage Clodagh to get too friendly with Ted.
‘So he is.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘He’s supporting Marcus.’
‘Call me during the week and we’ll fix on times and all that.’
‘Will do. Must go.’
As soon as she got to Marcus’s she knew something had happened. Instead of kissing her as he usually did, he was sullen and moody.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Sorry I’m late, I was working…’
‘Look at this.’ He tossed her the newspaper.
Anxiously she read. It transpired that Bicycle Billy had got a publishing deal. Described as ‘One of Ireland’s top comedians,’ he’d been given a two-book contract and a ‘six-figure advance’. A spokesperson for the publishing house described the novel as ‘Very dark, very grim, quite different to his stand-up.’
‘But you haven’t written a book,’ Ashling said, keen to soothe.
‘They describe him as one of Ireland’s top comedians.’
‘But you’re much better than him. You are,’ she insisted. ‘Everyone knows it.’
‘So how come it’s not in the paper?’
‘Because you haven’t written a book.’
‘Go on,’ he said coldly. ‘Rub it in.’
‘But…’ She was at a loss. She’d seen previous glimpses of insecurity, but nothing on this scale. She couldn’t understand it, but was desperate to fix it. ‘You’re the best,’ she repeated earnestly. ‘You must know that. Why else did Lisa want you to do the column? She didn’t even mention anyone else. Look at how people love you.’
He shrugged moodily, and Ashling knew she was getting through to him.
‘I’ve never seen such devotion at anyone else’s comedy gigs,’ she laboured on.
‘Was Lisa really worried that I wouldn’t do the column?’ he asked sulkily.
‘Out of her mind!’
He said nothing.
‘She said you’re about to go stellar.’
He took her hand and kissed her for the first time since she’d arrived. ‘Sorry. It’s not your fault. But comedy is a cut-throat business, you’re only as good as your last gig. Sometimes I get spooked.’
After the shoot Lisa was on a high. Her instinct – always reliable – was telling her that these pictures were rather special and likely to cause a stir.
She’d managed to keep phenomenally busy over the past month, and those bizarre bouts of depression that had dogged her early weeks in Dublin seemed to have abated. Any time the blackness began its insidious crawl, she thought up a new article for the magazine or someone else for them to interview or another product to plug. She didn’t have time to be depressed, and she’d experienced small pockets of satisfaction with how the magazine was coming together. They weren’t there yet in terms of advertising revenue, but she suspected that today’s pictures would round up the last few cosmetic houses that were still holding out. Jack would be pleased.
Instantly, her clear, clean spirits clouded. Jack and Mai continued to behave like the perfect couple. They hadn’t had a public row in a month, and overnight, the sparks of sexual tension between Jack and Lisa had entirely vanished. At least they had on Jack’s part. Not that there had been much sexual tension, Lisa admitted, ever the realist. But there had been enough to give her hope. When she’d tried to reclaim lost ground with a spot of mild flirting, it provoked no response from Jack. He remained polite and professional and Lisa realized she had to let this