Champagne Kisses (31 page)

She joked that we should call her ‘iRobot’, and said we didn’t need to be concerned for her mental state, because ‘mammies were programmed to cope’.

I wasn’t convinced, though. She was due a meltdown, so I made it my number one priority to ease her back into socializing. But my master plan needed more planning. My efforts to coax her to go shopping in Dundrum failed miserably. She’d moan, ‘All the glamorous yummy mummies who had tummy-tucks with their Caesareans go there to while away their maternity leave. I don’t want to bump into any skinny women with younger babies than mine. It’s too depressing. I can handle being fat in my own shower, not frumpy in an H&M changing room.’

Silenced by her rant I stocked up the fridge with low-fat dairy, and conveniently forgot to pick up her favourite treats such as Tayto cheese and onion crisps and Magnums whenever she requested them.

I’d starve this bitch back to a social life if that’s what it would take.

Because selfishly I really missed my friend, as she had always been my rock.

I was about to give up hope of ever getting Maddie to rejoin the outside world when she agreed to let her mother babysit Woody, and join me for an early supper at Le Café. It had to be a Monday night though to keep it low key, and for no longer than two hours.

Thankfully, since the release of two new publications on the market, work had started to flood in again, but I still missed the security of my regular gig at
So Now
. I shouldn’t complain though, my face was out there again for all the right reasons, and if the level of money I was earning continued, I’d soon be able to start to look for my own apartment.

But for today my new-found wealth would be spent on treating Maddie.

Happy days.

All I’d need to do was ply her with some vino and before she knew it I’d have convinced her to have ‘A cheeky one’ round at the Haven.

Before she had time to change her mind, I booked a table for two at eight o’clock, and requested a quiet table away from the window.

When I headed off Monday lunchtime to
interview
some young girl band, who were being touted as ‘the next big thing’ by their publicist, Maddie was extremely positive about getting out and swore blind that she wouldn’t dream of cancelling on me.

I was ecstatic. It was as if I had been cooped up for forty days and forty nights, starved of all social contact.

With Lisa occupying herself with more home improvements in Austria, I was without a wingman. (She said she was skiing but we had our suspicions that she’d arrive home for Christmas sporting a sleeker nose or the ‘new sticky-out nipples’, which she had been coveting for some time now.) The party season was upon us, and I couldn’t face it without a girlie by my side.

Speaking of all creatures feline, Parker had, believe it or not, taken to the gym in his spare time, instead of spending countless hours lounging around A-list hangouts drinking, posing and gossiping.

‘I’ve grown up,’ he boasted, all the while keeping a straight face and somehow believing the words he was speaking.

Could this be true? Could Parker have finally changed his ways?

The idea of dragging Maddie back to our nirvana after her maternity sabbatical made me giddy with excitement. She had always been the main show, and I was just her support act. Without her I was directionless. But tonight was the beginning of the end. It was the end of my ligging diet, which had resulted in
too
many dull nights in front of the telly because I’d no one to leave the apartment with, and almost total social starvation.

Yes, tonight was the night. I was as excited and anxious as if I was going to sleep with a boyfriend for the first time.

After I finished my interview with Death’s Dolls, the tragically unimpressive and moody girl ensemble, I arrived back late to the apartment to find Maddie had already left for her mother’s.

Perfect. I had enough time for a quick shower, carefully avoiding the face so I didn’t have to start from scratch on my make-up.

Although it was killing Maddie not to divulge her father’s secret hobby of hanging around gay bars, she thought it best that it came from him instead of her.

He agreed, but then said he very rarely hung around gay men, and it wasn’t something he wanted to concern her mother with just yet.

Struggling to deal with her own emotions, she’d let it go for the moment, leaving him with the stern warning that if she heard another story she wouldn’t be giving him a second lifeline.

It was extremely tough for her to deal with, and I had caught her several nights crying into her pillow over him. Which was another excellent reason for me to get her out and about: to distract her from her fighting family.

As I hurried out the door almost skipping with
joy
I left a quick Post-It on the fridge for Parker saying, ‘Don’t wait up. Maddie’s back in the saddle!!!!!’

With five minutes to spare I arrived at Le Café and was seated as asked down the back of the restaurant by the manager, who was looking unusually attractive this evening. He was wearing the same all-black uniform, but must have done something with his hair, or not. He looked less groomed than normal, and had a five o’clock shadow that made him look quite sexy.

For some bizarre reason, I always thought men looked hotter just out of bed, or out of the shower, or with a hangover. Women, on the other hand, definitely need more time to perfect the sexy look.

Talking far too much like a nervous teenager, I had filled him in on the entire build-up to the night within minutes.

Trying not to seem exhausted by my nervous energy, he gave me a generous smile and said he’d send over a glass of Pinot Grigio to settle me while I was waiting for the star of the evening.

So far everything was perfect. Le Café was a happy medium; it was kinda buzzing, but there were no people sitting close enough to earwig on our conversation. Adding atmosphere, the tea lights softly twinkled on the table, which added to the dim nighttime lighting, and as I sipped on my vino I relaxed into my chair and dreamt of Christmas, and what Santa might bring me.

In my head I requested a Ferrari, a winning Lotto ticket and a call from
Vanity Fair
to be their chief
celebrity
interviewer, but I settled on better luck. That’s all I really needed in life. I could make my own fortune with that.

By 8.15 I had knocked back my first glass of wine, so I texted Maddie: ‘Get your skates on … I’ll be pissed if I don’t eat soon.’

As I called the waiter to fetch me ‘Another one of your fine Pinot Grigios pretty please, and some bread, thanks’, a text beeped through from Maddie. ‘Don’t hate me,’ it read. ‘Woody’s broken out in a rash. En route to Crumlin with Mam.’

Rash? How could Woody break out in a rash tonight? Of all nights? Not a blemish for weeks and this is when he chooses his moment, bloody typical …

Thankfully my diva preciousness lasted for just a few moments. I needed to be grown-up here. My best friend would be in a panic and would need my support, not my tantrums.

Snapping out of my selfish thoughts I rang Maddie to check if Woody’s condition was serious. What if there was something critically wrong with him?

Worryingly, her phone rang out three times in succession. I daren’t leave a message.

As soon as the waiter dropped the second glass of wine on my table, I took a massive gulp and thought of all the conditions Woody could have. Here I was complaining that Maddie had stood me up when there was a chance that her son could have scabies, or chickenpox, or worse still, meningitis!

Shame on me. Had I cursed this pure child with my
evil
karma? Was it possible that I had passed on my bad luck, just because we shared the same living space? My mood was creeping into self-loathing when a text beeped through. It was Maddie. ‘Can’t talk now, waiting 2 see doc. Sorry 2 let U down :((((’

I felt worse.

There I was being a spoilt bitch when she was fretting about letting me down, while sitting in casualty holding her sick baby.

I rang Parker for advice, but all I got was his voice mail.

I rang Jeff, but he was busy too.

I then rang Lisa and frustratingly got her pornographic voice message which purred something like, ‘Hey youuuu, its meeee, you know what to do to please me, so do the right thing after the ahhhhhhh … beep.’

How could I possibly leave a serious message after that? She’d be no use to me anyway. I’d wager she was flat on her back under a surgeon’s scalpel, at the end of a ski slope, or indeed just under a surgeon or a skier!

I still couldn’t ring my mother for advice as she was eternally sore with me over being such an embarrassment. Not to mention the fact that I’d have to listen to her usual rant of, ‘Three years of college … for what, freelance work? Mairead’s daughter down the road got an honest child-minding job straight out of school, and now she’s married five years to that rich widower.’

I had no idea what to do. Should I get a taxi and go
up
to the hospital? Nah, she’d know to ask me if she wanted me there.

By this stage I was starving, as I’d had nothing but a tub of Pringles earlier. I should really have gone home, but that would take another thirty minutes and my stomach was turning somersaults. So, I finished my second glass of wine, ordered a third and chicken Caesar salad to help line my belly.

Since cos lettuce was far from good soakage the wine rapidly began to take effect, and my mood became somewhat reflective as I thought over the disastrous year I’d just had.

Without doubt it had been my most catastrophic one yet, and there were still a few weeks left before I could officially start a clean slate.

I was miles away reminiscing about the domino effect a few kisses with the wrong man could have when I noticed the café manager standing over me, smiling. ‘You look utterly miserable,’ he said. ‘I hope it’s not the salad? We’ve got a new commis-chef from Liverpool but I’m not sure he’s the real deal.’

‘What?’

‘Your salad, is it OK?’

‘Yeah, grand thanks, sorry, I was just lost in thought.’

‘So I see. Everything all right? You don’t seem your bubbly self.’

‘Ah, problems. You know my friend Maddie, the model, the one I was supposed to meet tonight? Well, she’s had to take her son to the hospital. I’m not sure yet if he’s going to be all right.’

‘Of course he’ll be fine.’

‘Emmm …’

‘Listen, babies get sick all the time, it’s just part of growing up. She’ll spend many hours with doctors over the next few years.’

‘Are you speaking from experience?’

‘No, gosh, no, but I come from a large family.’

‘Oh.’

There was silence as I looked back at my salad, contemplating whether I could muster up the energy to finish it. Although it looked fairly appetizing, I’d completely lost my hunger and my head was kinda dizzy.

‘You won’t find it in there, you know,’ chuckled the manager.

‘Sorry?’

‘The answer to all your problems.’

‘Oh, very good, no I’m just a bit down. That time of year. It’s been a bit of a crappy one, and I’m not sure how to go about making it a better twelve months next year.’

The wine was quite obviously working its magic, as my loose tongue had begun to run away with itself. I was about to apologize for burdening him with my woes when he asked could he join me. ‘It’s a slow night. Would you like some company for a little bit?’

‘You?’ I asked, not thinking it might sound standoffish.

‘Well, that was the thought behind the offer. I
could
ask a few of the other customers if they’d be interested, but I might be arrested for pimping.’

‘Ha ha, very funny, sorry, I’m not thinking straight. Yeah, sure, sit down. I’d be honoured … Does that mean I get a discount?’

‘Ha! Even in the depths of despair you’ve still got your brass neck. You’re priceless.’

‘Always worth a shot,’ I snapped back with a slight smirk.

‘I agree. Let me grab myself a drink and I’ll be back to you. Try not to top yourself before I get back, all right?’

Not entirely sure if I was comfortable with the manager guy, whose name I never bothered to ask, sitting down with me, my brain went into overdrive. Should I do the sensible thing, pay my bill and leave? Or should I take his kind offer of a shoulder to cry on and see how the evening progressed?

What was I thinking?

How could I be so selfish at a time when little Woody was sick?

I’d have to excuse myself politely and go.

I was just putting on my coat when a text beeped through. It was Maddie. ‘Panic over. Simple rash caused by naughty detergent powder. Hope ure OK, enjoy yourself where ever U get 2. Stayin in mam’s 2nite xox.’

‘Going somewhere?’ asked the manager, who arrived with two glasses of wine.

‘Ehhh, no, there were a couple of changes of
plan
while you were gone. But everything’s fine. Cheers.’

Now that I had Maddie’s consent, I texted her back, ‘Phew, love you both x x.’ And settled myself back into my seat.

My manager friend seemed pleased I wasn’t leaving. While I wasn’t quite sure if he was glad of the company because he was bored, or if he was just happy to be with me, either way I was at a loose end and I’d always found him quite friendly.

As I embarked on my fourth glass of wine my head was getting even more fuzzy and I felt compelled to ask the question that had been bugging me for over a year, ‘Sorry, but what exactly is your name?’

‘You don’t know my name, Miss Valentine?’

‘I know I should, but it’s just gone on so long now that I never felt brave enough to ask before now. Sorry.’

‘It’s Michael.’

‘Really?’

‘Last time my mother called … Something wrong with Michael?’

‘No, just, I would have thought you more of a Denis or Daragh.’ I was clutching at straws. I didn’t care what his name might be. I just didn’t want anyone else I’d ever meet to be called Michael.

By now I could see he was starting to look at me strangely, as if I was a bit mad. And without checking with my brain first I blurted, ‘Yes, I am a bit bonkers. That’s why I’m sitting here on a Monday night all on
my
own. You’d probably do yourself a big favour by running away now …’