Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [57]
With her stapled-on smile securely in place, Lisa swivelled discreetly on her Jimmy Choo heel. Had she missed anyone? Then she spotted a pretty young man, squirming uncomfortably in a too-new-looking suit.
‘Who’s he?’ she asked, but Ashling had no idea. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
‘How?’
‘By asking him.’ Lisa seemed amused at Ashling’s shock.
Assuming a wide smile and twinkling eyes, Lisa descended on the boy, Ashling tagging behind. Up close he had spots on his youthful chin.
‘Lisa Edwards, Colleen magazine.’ She extended her smooth, tanned hand.
‘Shane Dockery.’ He ran a miserable finger under his tight shirt collar.
‘From Laddz,’ Lisa finished for him.
‘Have you heard of us?’ he exclaimed. No one else at this bash had a clue who he was.
‘’Course.’ Lisa had seen a tiny mention of them in one of the Sunday papers and had jotted down their names, along with any other names that she thought she should know. ‘You’re the new boy-band. Going to be bigger than Take That ever were.’
‘Thanks,’ he gulped, with the enthusiasm of the as-yet-unestablished. Perhaps it had been worth getting togged out in these terrible clothes after all.
As they moved away, Lisa murmured, ‘See? Just remember, they’re more frightened of you than you are of them.’
Ashling nodded thoughtfully and Lisa commended herself on her kind patronage. Helped, probably, by the copious quantities of vodka she was sipping. Speaking of which… ? Instantly a waitress appeared at her side.
‘Vodka is the new water.’ Lisa raised her glass to Ashling.
When Lisa had eaten and drunk her fill, it was time to leave.
‘Bye.’ Lisa wafted past the stick-insect on the door.
‘Thank you,’ Ashling smiled. ‘The clothes were lovely and I’m sure Colleen readers will love them –!’ Ashling’s sentence ended in a gasp as someone pinched her arm very, very hard. Lisa.
‘Thank you for coming.’ Stick-insect pressed a plastic-wrapped parcel into Lisa’s hands. ‘And please accept this little goodwill gesture.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ Lisa said vaguely, trailing away.
Then one was pressed into Ashling’s eager hands. Her face aglow, she dug her nail into the plastic to tear it open. Then gasped anew as someone pinched her arm again.
‘Oh, er, yeah, like, thanks.’ She tried and failed to sound casual.
‘Don’t touch it,’ Lisa muttered, as they strolled across the lobby to collect Ashling’s jacket. ‘Don’t even look at it. And never, ever tell a PR girl that you’ll give them coverage. Play hard to get!’
‘Rule number seven, I suppose,’ Ashling said sulkily.
‘That’s right.’
After they’d left the hotel, Ashling flicked Lisa an enquiring look, then glanced at her present.
‘Not yet!’ Lisa insisted.
‘When, then?’
‘When we get around the corner. But no hurrying!’ Lisa upbraided, as Ashling almost started to run.
The minute they were round the corner, Lisa said, ‘Now!’ And they both tore the plastic off their parcels. It was a T-shirt, with Morocco emblazoned across the front.
‘A T-shirt!’ Lisa spat in disgust.
‘I think it’s beautiful,’ Ashling said. ‘What will you do with yours?’
‘Bring it back to the shop. Change it for something decent.’
The following day both the Irish Times and the Evening Herald ran a front-page picture of the Tara and Lisa clinch.
17
At quarter to seven on Saturday morning, Clodagh was woken by Molly. Head-butting her.
‘Wake up, wake up, wake up,’ Molly invited, fractiously. ‘Craig is making a cake.’
There were some benefits to having children, Clodagh thought wearily, dragging herself from the bed – for instance, she hadn’t had to set an alarm clock for five years.
She was meeting Ashling in town. They were going shopping.
‘And I think we should start early,’ Ashling had said. ‘To miss the crowds.’
‘How early?’
‘About ten.’
‘Ten!’
‘Or eleven, if that’s too early.’
‘Too early? I’ll have been awake for several hours by then.’
After she’d cleaned up the cake mess, Clodagh gave Craig a bowl of Rice Krispies, but he wouldn’t eat them because she’d poured too much milk into the bowl. So she made him another bowl, this time getting the milk-cereal