Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [47]
‘Cigs?’ Trix urged. ‘Sugar-free gum?’
‘Yeah. Cigs.’
The door opened again and Jack emerged, looking faintly distraught. Trix hopped nimbly back to her desk, and with a practised flick of the wrist opened her drawer, threw her cigarettes in and slammed it shut. Jack roamed amongst the desks and no one would meet his look. Those that could inched and hid their cigarettes behind something. Lisa had a box of Silk Cut open beside her mouse-pad, but though Jack wavered and seemed like he might stop, he sped up again and passed by. Everyone flinched. Then he got to Ashling and halted and the office exhaled silently. Safe, for a while.
Against her will, Ashling’s face was pulled up to look at him. Silently he tilted his head at her box of Marlboro. She nodded warily, hating her compliance. He was so unpleasant to her, but she seemed to be the only one he cadged cigarettes from. She obviously had Gobshite stamped on her forehead.
His eyes coolly watching her, he fastened his lips around the filter and, as usual, slowly, smoothly slid the cigarette from its box. Jerkily, she passed him her box of matches, taking care not to touch him. Without moving his eyes from hers, he struck a match, held the flame against the tip, then shook it out. Inclining the cigarette upwards, he pulled deep. ‘Thanks,’ he murmured.
‘When are you going to start buying smokes again?’ Trix demanded, now that her own were briefly safe. ‘You obviously can’t give them up. And it’s not fair, you must earn millions more than Ashling but you’ve been bumming loads of cigarettes off her.’
‘Have I?’ He looked startled.
‘Have I?’ He turned his gaze on to Ashling and she seemed to wither away from him in her seat. ‘Sorry, I hadn’t noticed.’
‘’s OK,’ she mumbled.
Jack disappeared back into his office and Kelvin observed drily, ‘Betcha he’s inside there kicking himself for exploiting the workers by nicking their smokes. Jack Devine, Working-Class Hero.’
‘Wannabe Working-Class Hero, more like,’ Trix scorned.
‘How so?’ Ashling couldn’t hide her curiosity.
‘He’d love to be a humble craftsman, and do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.’ Trix’s contempt for such modest aspirations was almost tangible.
‘Problem was,’ Kelvin expounded, ‘he was born middle-class and burdened with all kinds of advantages. Like an education. Then he gets an MA in communications. Next,’ he lowered his voice ominously, ‘he begins to display excellent managerial skills.’
‘Fair broke his heart,’ Trix sighed. ‘I reckon he’s riddled with middle-class guilt. That’s why he’s always offering to fix things. And why he has all those macho hobbies.’
‘Which macho hobbies?’
‘Well, he goes sailing, that’s macho,’ Trix offered.
‘Not very working-class though, is it? Drinking pints, now that’s macho,’ said Kelvin. ‘And riding sexy half-Vietnamese women,’ he added, ‘that’s very macho too.’
Ashling sidled tentatively up to Lisa. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘No, thank you,’ Lisa sang, not even looking up from her desk. ‘I don’t want to come for a drink with you and Trix or your friend Joy or anyone else this evening. Or any evening.’
Everyone sniggered, to Lisa’s gratification.
‘I wasn’t going to ask you that.’ An embarrassed liver-coloured patch crawled up Ashling’s neck. She’d only been trying to be nice to a stranger in Dublin, but Lisa made it sound like she fancied her. ‘It’s a work-related question. Why don’t we have a problem page with a difference?’
‘What’s the difference, Einstein?’
‘We get a psychic to do the anwers, instead of a counsellor.’
Lisa was thoughtful. Not a bad idea. Very zeitgeisty, what with everyone on the hunt for a spiritual element to fix their lives. She believed none of it herself – taking the line that her happiness was very much in her own hands – but that was no reason not to peddle