Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [175]
‘When you were in Cork,’ Clodagh said stiffly. ‘He gave me a note with his phone number –’
‘“Bellez-moi.”’ Ashling was pleased at the surprise on Clodagh’s face. ‘You and most of Dublin got one of those notes. So why did he collect me from the train that weekend?’
Clodagh gave a dismal shrug. ‘Maybe he felt guilty.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He called here to the house on the Monday after. Nothing happened. He just had a cup of tea, then when he was leaving, he washed his cup. It was just a small thing but –’
‘He said “my Mammy trained me well”,’ Ashling chimed in with. ‘Yes, I was fucking charmed by that too.’
‘He loves me.’ Clodagh was defensive.
He probably does, Ashling realized, shards of agony piercing the protective lagging of anger. ‘Then what happened?’
‘He invited me out for a cup of coffee…’
‘And then?’
‘And then… he showed up here again the following day.’
‘When he did more than wash his cup?’ We’re not having this conversation. I’m hallucinating.
Clodagh nodded, avoiding eye-contact.
‘Did you go to Edinburgh with him?’
Once again Clodagh nodded humbly.
‘I wouldn’t have thought he was your type,’ Ashling accused, aware that her face was twisted and ugly with pain. How she longed for a smooth, dignified mask.
‘I wouldn’t have thought he was my type either,’ Clodagh admitted. ‘But from the first night I saw him at that comedy place I really liked him. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it.’
‘And what about Dylan?’
Clodagh hung her head. ‘I don’t know, I just don’t know… Look, I’ve betrayed you, our friendship, and that must hurt more than the end of your, um, romance.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Ashling corrected nastily. ‘I mind losing my boyfriend much more.’
Clodagh gazed at Ashling’s pale, angry face and admitted uncertainly, ‘I’ve never seen you like this before.’
‘What? Angry? Well, it’s long overdue.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘You’ve done this to me before,’ Ashling said quietly. ‘Dylan was my boyfriend first.’
‘Yes, but… he fell in love with me.’
‘You stole him.’
‘Well, why didn’t you say anything before now?’ Clodagh said, with sudden savagery. ‘You were always such a victim.’
‘So this is my fault?’ Ashling was unpleasant. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I forgave you for Dylan. But I will never forgive you for this.’
54
‘Dammit,’ she realized. ‘I think I’m having a nervous breakdown.’
She looked around at the bed she was flung in. Her well-overdue-for-a-bath body was sprawled lethargically on the well-overdue-for-a-change sheet. Tissues, sodden and balled, littered the duvet. Gathering dust on her chest of drawers was an untouched arsenal of chocolate. Scattered on the floor were magazines she’d been unable to concentrate on. The television in the corner relentlessly delivered daytime viewing direct to her bed. Yip, nervous-breakdown territory all right.
But something was wrong. What was it?
‘I always thought…’ she tried. ‘Youknow, I always expected…’
Abruptly she knew. ‘I always thought it would be nicer than this…’
55
Clodagh thought she was cracking up, she was certain she was. But she had to get dressed and collect Molly from playgroup. Once back, she returned to bed and attempted to take up where she’d left off, but Molly began agitating that noodles be micro-waved for her. With resignation, Clodagh got up again.
She hadn’t been enjoying it anyway – which had come as a big surprise. As a child, she’d watched Ashling’s mother take to her bed and thought that it looked gloriously abandoned. But in practice, lying down feeling unable to cope, riddled with self-hatred and confusion, wasn’t half as much fun as she’d expected.
Since ten o’clock this morning – was it really only this morning? – her entire life had become an out-of-body experience. From the moment she’d heard Dylan’s key in the door, she knew. The gig was up.
She’d paused from her frantic bucking beneath Marcus and cupped an ear to listen. ‘Sssh!’ In a fluid movement he’d rolled off her: frozen and bug-eyed, they’d listened to Dylan mounting the stairs.
She’d had every opportunity to jump from the bed, fling