Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [70]
Perhaps, Lisa subsequently realized, even then there were signs that all was not as it should have been. But, at the time, she was blind to them. Nothing had ever felt so right. She felt that he truly saw and accepted her, with all her ambition, energy, vision and fear. She reckoned they were two of a kind. Young, keen, ambitious, succeeding against the odds.
Around then, the concept of a soul-mate was a very fashionable one, recently imported from LA. Lisa was now the proud possessor of one.
Shortly after they got together, Lisa moved to Femme as deputy editor. This coincided with Oliver becoming a red-hot property. Even though he wasn’t always popular on a personal level – some people found him just that little bit too difficult – all the glossies were suddenly scrambling and competing against each other to use him. Oliver shared himself out equally between them all, until Lily Headly-Smythe promised to use one of his photos for the Christmas cover of Panache, then changed her mind.
‘She broke her word. I’ll never work for Panache or Lily Headly-Smythe again,’ Oliver declared.
‘Until next time,’ Lisa laughed.
‘No.’ His face was serious. ‘Never.’
And he didn’t, not even when Lily sent him an Irish Wolf-hound pup by way of an apology. Lisa was full of admiration. He was so strong-willed, so idealistic.
But that was before his intractability was turned on her. She didn’t like it so much then.
21
Ashling wasn’t having such a fantastic Sunday either.
She’d woken up bubbling with anticipation concerning Marcus Valentine. Curious and expectant, she felt gloriously ready – for a date, a bout of flirting, a dose of flattery. Very definitely something…
The morning was spent mooning around, encapsulated in warmth, her positive faculties on full alert. But as the day faded without a phone call, her inner smile curdled into irritability. To pass the time and expend excess energy she did a bit of cleaning.
Not that Marcus had said when he’d ring. Her disenchantment wasn’t so much rejection as the feeling of missing a good opportunity. Because even though she couldn’t say for sure that she fancied him, she suspected that she might. Certainly, she was willing to give it her best shot. Emotionally, she was all dressed up with nowhere to go and it wasn’t nice.
Look at me, she thought, scrubbing the bath with frustrated force. I’ve been here before. Waiting for a man to ring. Too late, she realized how much she’d enjoyed that brief pocket where she was no longer cut-up about one man and before she’d become hung-up on another. Serves me right for being shallow enough to fall for a man-on-a-stage.
How she regretted not having bellez’ed him when she’d had her chance. And it was too late now because she couldn’t find the note. She had no memory of actually throwing it out – she’d have remembered because she would have thought she was being cruel. But a rummage through pockets and bedside drawers yielded nothing, except guilt-triggering receipts and a flyer for a computer sale.
Back to the cleaning. But after wiping out the inside of the microwave, she needed a boost, so decided to try to get a sneak preview of her future. Her angel divination cards didn’t promise anything, so tö hurry along Marcus’s call, Ashling – rather sheepishly – unearthed her Wish Kit. Which hadn’t seen the light of day since the last days of Phelim. She was aware that this did not bode well.
The kit consisted of six candles, each emblazoned with a word – Love, Friendship, Luck, Money, Peace and Success – and six corresponding boxes of matches. The Friendship, Money and Success candles hadn’t even had their wicks lit, the Peace and Luck candles were burnt down slightly, but it was the Love candle that had seen the most action. It was the black fruit-gum of the packet. Reverentially, with the last Love match, Ashling lit the candle, which burned away merrily for about ten minutes until it ran