Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [51]
She rang him back.
‘Hi Ashling. Time for a quick drink tomorrow after work?’
‘Can’t. I’ve got a horrible article to write – maybe later in the week, OK? Why, what’s up?’
‘Nothing. Maybe. I’ll be away at a conference. I’ll give you a shout when I get back.’
15
‘Ready, Lisa?’ Jack asked, appearing at her desk at ten past six.
Watched silently by their gossip-hungry colleagues, they left the office and got the lift down to the car-park.
The second they were in the car, Jack ripped his tie from his neck and flung it into the back seat, then tore open the first two buttons on his shirt.
‘That’s better,’ he sighed. ‘And go for it yourself,’ he invited. ‘Take off whatever you want –’ He broke off the end of the sentence abruptly and a mortified hiatus followed. The heat of his discomfort reached Lisa. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered grimly. ‘That came out wrong.’
Agitatedly he ran his hand through his messy hair, so that the front stood up in silky peaks before flopping back down on to his forehead.
‘No problem.’ Lisa smiled politely, but the tiny downy hairs on the nape on her neck rose sharply. Shocked and excited at the image of undressing for Jack in his car, feeling those dark eyes on her naked body, the cool of the leather seats against the heat of her skin. Nipping her lip in determination, she vowed to make it happen.
After a suitable recovery period Jack spoke again. ‘Let me tell you about the house.’ He steered into the Dublin evening traffic. ‘The deal is, Brendan is going to work in the States. He’s got an eighteen-month contract, which might be extended, but it would mean that you’d have the place for a year and a half, anyway. After that we’d have to see.’
Lisa shifted noncommitally. It didn’t matter because she didn’t intend to be here in a year and a half’s time.
‘It’s off the South Circular Road, which is very central,’ Jack promised. ‘It’s an area of Dublin that still has a lot of character. It hasn’t been yuppified to fuck.’
Lisa’s spirits started a slow slither. She was desperate to live in a place that had been yuppified to fuck.
‘There’s a strong sense of community. Lots of families live here.’
Lisa wanted nothing to do with families. She wanted to be surrounded by other singles and to bump into attractive men at her local Tesco Metro buying Kettle Chips and Chardonnay. Dully, she watched Jack’s hands on the steering wheel, her churning misery calmed by the confidence with which they glanced off and guided the leather.
He swung the car off the main road on to a smaller road, then on to an even smaller one. ‘There it is.’ He pointed through the windscreen.
Crouching on the pavement was a little red-brick artisan’s cottage. Lisa took one look at it and hated it. She liked modern and fresh, airy and spacious. This house promised cramped, dark rooms, ancient plumbing and an unhygienic free-standing kitchen with a horrid Belfast sink.
Reluctantly she got out of the car.
Jack approached the house, put the key in the lock, pushed the door and stood back to let Lisa pass. He had to duck his head to fit through the doorway.
‘Wooden floors,’ she remarked, looking around.
‘Brendan had them done a couple of months ago,’ Jack said proudly.
She forbore from enlightening him that those in the know were completely over wooden floors and that carpets were very much in the driving seat.
‘Sitting-room.’ Jack led her into a small, ash-floored room containing a red couch, a telly and a cast-iron fireplace. ‘That’s an original,’ Jack nodded at it.
‘Mmmmm.’ Lisa loathed cast-iron fireplaces – they were so busy.
‘Kitchen.’ Jack trailed her through to the next room. ‘Fridge, microwave, washing machine.’
Lisa looked around. At least the cupboards were fitted and the sink was an ordinary aluminium one – she’d rather run the risk of Alzheimer’s than live with a Belfast sink. But her satisfaction ebbed