Some Girls Do (36 page)

So I don’t think Strange and I will be having a threesome any time soon. Because we both want the same thing: to be double-teamed by two members of the opposite sex.

(So, what did you see? You and two members of the opposite sex, right? Well, a girl can dream.)

On Thursday evening, Bookends was packed for the launch of Rosy Sinnott’s debut novel. Tom and Claire were kept busy manning the till and bagging books, while Yvonne poured wine and sparkling water.

‘Have you read it?’ Tom asked Claire, nodding to the stacks of Rosy’s book that were piled up beside the till.

‘Yes – I thought it was brilliant. You?’

‘Same.’ Rosy’s novel was already being called the literary debut of the year, receiving rave reviews in the press.

‘Ooh, I need one of those,’ Rosy said, approaching the counter and pointing to the tray of drinks.

‘Help yourself,’ Yvonne said, and Rosy took a glass of white wine.

‘Well done, Rosy,’ Tom said to her. ‘You’ve got a great turnout. I loved the book.’

‘Oh, thank you, Tom. That means a lot.’

‘Congratulations,’ Claire said to her, as Tom turned away to serve a customer. ‘I hope it’s a great success.’

‘Thanks. This is so exciting,’ she said, looking around at the guests, the big displays of her book, and the posters of the cover. ‘Nerve-racking, but exciting.’

‘I’m really pleased for you, Rosy. The book is brilliant – you deserve it.’

‘I still can’t believe it! It’s just so amazing to see my name on a real book.’ She took a slug of her wine. ‘I really hope you’ll be next, Claire.’

‘Me too,’ Claire said, with a wistful smile. Rosy knew she was a writer. Their paths had crossed several times at writing and publishing events.

‘Excuse me.’ Rosy’s editor approached, touching Rosy’s elbow. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said to Claire, ‘but I think we should start the speeches now, okay?’

‘Sure,’ Rosy said, putting down her glass. ‘We’ll talk later,’ she said to Claire, as her editor led her to the lectern they had set up in a corner of the shop.

Claire had always felt a twinge of envy at events like this, and now, even though she had a publishing deal, she still felt a little jealous of Rosy as her editor made a glowing speech about the book. She wondered if she would ever have a night like this, and imagined Mark making a speech about her, telling everyone what a wonderful writer she was, what a great book she had written. As thrilled as she was that he was publishing the blog
book, it would be amazing to have a book published that she could actually put her name to – one she could tell her family and friends about, something that would make her mother proud.

She needed to make more time to work on her novel. She had been neglecting it lately, preoccupied with looking after her mother, seeing Luca and writing her blog. But she wanted to get it into shape so she could let Mark read it. It was another reason why it was the right time to wind up the blog – it would free her to work on her novel. Because this was what she wanted, she thought, as Rosy was introduced and took the microphone. She wanted to be standing where Rosy was some day, and she had to do everything in her power to make that happen.

On Saturday Claire got ready to go out for her third date with Mark. He had flown into Dublin in the afternoon and she was meeting him for dinner at a restaurant close to the Merrion Hotel, where he was staying. It was a pity that he didn’t have more time, but he had just managed to squeeze in a quick visit between a friend’s stag in London last night and travelling to Edinburgh tomorrow for a christening. She was flattered that he had made such an effort just to spend a few hours with her.

‘You look lovely,’ her mother said, when she came downstairs.

‘Thanks.’ She had bought a new dress especially for the occasion. ‘I won’t be late,’ she said.

‘Be as late as you like,’ Espie said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be waiting up for you.’ She was sitting at the kitchen table, but Claire noticed that she sounded breathless, and there was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke.

‘Mum, are you okay?’ Claire asked, crossing to her and peering into her face.

‘I’m fine,’ Espie said, but there was a definite wheeze in her voice that struck fear into Claire’s heart.

‘You don’t sound too good.’ She sat at the table, putting a hand over her mother’s. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go out.’

‘Don’t be daft. I just overdid it a bit today.’ Nancy and Michael had taken her to the Japanese Gardens in Kildare. ‘It’s probably all the fresh air, making me tired. I’ll take it easy for the night and I’ll be fine.’

‘I can easily cancel. Mark won’t mind.’

‘After coming all the way over from London just to see you? You are
not
cancelling on him.’

Claire thought. Maybe she could ask someone to come over. Neil and Michelle never went out on a Saturday. Maybe one of them could—

‘And before you even think it,’ Espie said, ‘you are not setting Michelle on me. I’ll be grand. If the worst comes to the worst, I have the panic button.’ She pointed to the medical-emergency necklace she always wore.

‘Call me before it comes to that.’

‘I will. But I’m feeling better already,’ she said, and her voice did sound stronger. ‘Go on, you’re not getting out of your date that easily, my girl.’

‘Okay. But promise you’ll call me if you feel at all wobbly.’

‘I promise.’ Espie patted her hand. ‘Now go – enjoy yourself, and stay out as late as you want to. Don’t come home at all, if you like.’

‘Mum! I
will
be home.’

‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ Claire said to Mark, as they were seated in the restaurant. ‘I can’t believe you came over just for one night.’

‘You’re worth it.’ His eyes glittered as he gazed at her. ‘You look gorgeous.’

‘Thanks.’ Claire blushed. ‘So do you,’ she said shyly. If she wasn’t worried about her mother, she would have gone to his hotel room with him tonight if he’d asked her. She wanted badly to kiss him, and she could have made out with him without worrying that he would expect sex. It probably wasn’t helping
that she hadn’t seen Luca all week. Maybe in future she should have a session with him to take the edge off before going out with Mark – like eating before going to a party.

But, as it was, she would be going straight home. She was finding it hard to relax. She had placed her phone on the table. She didn’t normally do that as she considered it rude, but she didn’t want to risk missing a call from her mother.

‘I read your latest blog post,’ Mark was saying. Claire detected a slight hesitancy in his tone that made her wary.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I must admit, I was kind of …’

‘You didn’t like it?’ she asked anxiously.

‘No, I enjoyed it. I was just a bit … disappointed, I suppose.’

‘Disappointed?’ Oh, crap! Did he like threesomes? Had he thought she’d be up for that? It wouldn’t really be surprising, considering some of the things she’d written about. Thank goodness she hadn’t said she was into them. ‘You – you like threesomes?’ she asked, trying hard to sound blasé about it.

‘No!’ he gasped, laughing. ‘Christ, no – not at all. I mean, not that I’ve ever—’

‘Yeah, me either.’ Then she remembered she had written about having enjoyed group sex, and she blushed.

‘So, was it the writing?’ she asked. She was so relieved that it wasn’t the threesome thing that she didn’t even mind. ‘We wouldn’t have to include that one in the book.’

‘No, the writing was fine – I really liked it. I was just …’ He hesitated. Then he sighed and said, ‘It’s silly, but – I just thought I might get a mention.’

‘Oh!’ It had never occurred to her that he would expect her to write about him, but of course it made sense. He thought she was writing about real people all the time.

‘Sorry, I know it’s stupid.’ He shifted awkwardly, glancing away. ‘I mean, we haven’t even got to the fifth date yet.’

‘Well, you know all the people I write about on my blog aren’t necessarily real.’

‘I know, but … the Artist is real, and I know you’re seeing him at the moment. So I thought …’

‘Oh.’ The realisation that he was jealous took Claire by surprise. It had never occurred to her that he might be. ‘It’s different with you—’ She stopped, not sure how to explain why it was different. She couldn’t tell him he was the only real person she’d ever be writing about – apart from Luca. But she wanted him to understand because she couldn’t see herself ever writing about him, even after they’d started sleeping together.

‘How so?’ he asked.

‘Well … for one thing, because you know about the blog,’ she said, finding her excuse. ‘Those other guys didn’t, so I knew they wouldn’t read it – or if they did by some chance come across it, they wouldn’t know it was me writing it. I’m not anonymous with you, and I’d feel weird writing about you when I know you’re going to be reading it.’

‘I can understand that,’ he said. Then he tilted his head to the side, considering. ‘I tend to forget how different you are from your alter ego.’

Not for the first time, she hoped he didn’t find her a disappointment compared to the ballsy NiceGirl. ‘It’s easier to be upfront online,’ she said. ‘Especially when no one knows who you are.’

‘You said “for one thing”. Was there another?’

Claire took a deep breath. It was time to be honest with him – at least partly. ‘Well, because I feel like we – what we have – it’s different from anything I’ve had before. I think it could be … more. I mean, I’d like it to be more.’ She held her breath as she waited for his reaction, afraid she might have blown it.

‘I’d like that too,’ he said easily, and Claire exhaled. She should have known Mark wouldn’t be scared off. She had been spending too much time around Luca. She was starting to expect all men to be commitment-phobes.

Their eyes locked and his expression changed to something more intense.

He was the first to look away. ‘About that,’ he said, fiddling
with his coffee spoon. ‘I’m not seeing anyone else, and if we’re going to do this …’

‘Oh! Yes.’ Claire blushed. ‘I see what you mean.’

‘I know it’s difficult in a long-distance relationship, and maybe I’m not as evolved as I should be but, like I said, I’m not good at sharing.’

‘No, I feel the same. I wouldn’t want to see anyone else either. I mean, I’m not really seeing anyone now—’

‘Except the Artist?’

‘Well, yes. But that’s – it’s a limited-time thing. It’ll be over soon.’

‘Really?’ He seemed pleased.

‘Yes. It’ll definitely be finished by the time we have our fifth date.’

Claire had tried to ignore her phone over dinner and give her full attention to Mark, but she jumped now when she heard her ringtone. She was relieved to realise it was coming from the next table. But it put her on edge, and she glanced anxiously at her phone throughout the rest of the meal. The problem was, she knew her mother didn’t want to be a burden and ‘put a stop to her gallop’, as she would have said, so she didn’t really trust her to call, except in the most dire circumstances, and she was worried she would leave it too late.

‘Is everything okay?’ Mark asked, as their plates were cleared away. ‘You seem a bit agitated.’

‘Sorry. It’s just – I’m worried about Mum. She seemed a bit under the weather this evening. Actually, I was going to cancel—’

‘God, you should have said.’

‘She insisted she was fine and I should go out, but … Sorry, do you mind if we cut this short? I can’t relax.’

‘No, of course not.’ Mark was already signalling to a waiter for the bill.

‘I feel awful,’ Claire said apologetically, though at the same time she was relieved. ‘When you’ve come all this way and you’re just here for one night …’

‘It’s fine, honestly.’ Mark placed a wad of notes in the leather
folder and told the waiter to keep the change. Then they got up to go.

‘You can come back with me for coffee, if you like,’ Claire told him, as they left the restaurant.

‘I can?’

‘My mother will be there, obviously.’

‘Well, as long as she wouldn’t mind …’

‘No! Not at all – she’d love it. I just thought I should warn you …’

‘No hanky-panky?’

Claire laughed. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m bringing you home to meet my mother. We just happen to live together.’

‘I’d love to meet your mother,’ Mark said. ‘And I’d like to have more time with you.’

Claire briefed him in the taxi. ‘My mother doesn’t know anything about my blog or the book deal. As far as she’s concerned, you’re someone I met on the Internet – which is true, if you think about it.’

‘Okay.’

‘And don’t let her know we came back because I was worried.’

‘No, of course not.’

Claire touched his hand. ‘Thank you for doing this.’

‘No problem.’ He gripped her fingers and she smiled at him gratefully.

The lights were still on downstairs when they arrived at the house.

‘You’re home early,’ her mother called from the living room, over the sound of the TV, as they stepped into the hall.

‘Hi.’ Claire stuck her head around the door. ‘We decided to come back here for coffee.’

‘Oh!’ Espie sat up, turning off the TV with the remote.

‘Mum, this is Mark,’ she said, as he followed her into the room. ‘Mark, this is my mum.’

‘Hello,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Kennedy.’

‘Call me Espie.’ She smiled at him. ‘Sit down,’ she said, patting the sofa beside her.

‘Espie – that’s a nice name,’ Mark said, as he sank into the sofa. ‘Very unusual.’

‘It’s short for Esperanza.’

‘Oh, like Oscar Wilde’s mother? Wasn’t that her name?’

‘Close,’ Espie said. ‘She was Speranza. But that was just her pen name.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mark, but I hope you didn’t come home early on my account,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Claire suspiciously.

‘No, we just thought it would be nice to have coffee here,’ Claire said innocently. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘Well, don’t count me in,’ Espie said, getting up. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Are you sure?’