Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [75]
‘Never say never,’ Dylan twinkled. ‘Hold on.’
Next thing he’d swooped down on a tableful of people, had a quick, smiley chat, then returned to Ashling. ‘Come on, they’re leaving.’
‘Since when? What did you say to them?’
‘Nothing! I just noticed they were nearly finished.’
‘Hmmm.’ Dylan was so charmingly persuasive, he could sell salt to Siberia.
‘Hop in there, Ashling – bye, thanks very much.’ All smiles, he bid farewell to the table donators. Then, with suspicious speed, he tussled through the masses at the bar and returned with drinks. Good things had a habit of just happening to Dylan, and as he placed her gin-and-tonic in front of her, Ashling wondered, as she occasionally did, what it must be like to be married to him. Utter bliss, she suspected.
‘Tell me everything, everything, about this great new job,’ Dylan ordered, energetically. ‘I want to know all about it.’
Ashling was swept along on his contagious enthusiasm. Thoroughly enjoying herself, she outlined all the different personalities at Colleen and how they interacted – or didn’t, as the case may be – with each other.
Dylan laughed a lot, seemingly genuinely entertained, and Ashling half-fell into the trap of thinking she was a great raconteur. This was all part of the same carry-on as when Dylan had admired her new jacket – his great gift was making people feel good about themselves. He couldn’t help it. Not that it was insincere, Ashling knew. Just a little over-the-top. She shouldn’t make the mistake of telling the same lame-brain stories to other people and expecting similar gales of laughter.
‘Christ, you’re funny.’ He clinked his glass against hers in a toast of praise. His flirtatious manner always implied more than he was prepared to deliver. Not that Ashling took it seriously. At least, not any more.
‘So how’s the computer business?’ she eventually asked.
‘Christ! Insanely busy! We can’t fill orders fast enough.’
‘Wow!’ Ashling shook her head in wonder. ‘When I first met you you weren’t sure if the company would survive the first year. Look at you now!’
The mood hiccupped slightly, almost inpalpably, over the mention of the time they’d first met. But, as luck would have it, they had nearly finished their drinks, so Ashling jumped up. ‘Same again?’
‘Sit down, I’ll get them.’
‘Not at all, I’ll –’
‘Sit down, Ashling, I insist.’
That was another thing about Dylan. He was effortlessly, stylishly generous.
When he returned with the drinks, Ashling asked curiously, ‘So was there a special reason you wanted to meet me…?’
‘Yeeaaahhh,’ Dylan drawled, fiddling with a beermat. ‘Yeah, there was.’ Suddenly he wasn’t at all comfortable, and this in itself was cause for alarm. ‘You haven’t noticed…anything…?’ He stopped and didn’t go on.
‘Anything?’
‘About Clodagh.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘I’m…’ Big, long pause. ‘… kind of worried about her. She never seems happy, she’s often snappy with the children and sometimes even… slightly irrational. Molly accused Clodagh of slapping her and we’ve never slapped the kids.’
Another uncomfortable gap, before Dylan continued. ‘This is probably going to sound stupid, but she’s always doing the house up. No sooner are we finished one room than she’s talking about redoing another. And trying to talk to her about any of this is getting me nowhere. I was wondering… I thought that maybe she might be depressed.’
Ashling considered. Now that she thought about it, Clodagh had seemed dissatisfied and quite difficult lately. She did seem to be doing an excess of decorating. And telling Molly that Barney was dead had struck Ashling as weird. Shocking, even. Although Clodagh’s defence that she had feelings too had seemed reasonable. But now, in the context of Dylan’s concern, it instantly flipped over into being ominous again.
‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Ashling said, deep in thought. ‘But it’s tough with kids. Very demanding. And if you’re having to work long hours…’
Dylan leant forward, listening intently to Ashling as though her words could be held or collected. But when she trailed away into abject silence,