Chapter 24
24
McMunn’s was, just like the last time, low-lit and low on customers.
Ike Blakely was alone, standing at the bar and facing the door. Our eyes met and he actually frowned.
“What can I get you to drink?” I asked.
“Pint. What are you having?”
“Water.”
“Have a drink with me. A proper drink.” A hint of a smile softened his expression. “Go on. You’ve come to meet me. Commit to it.”
I hesitated. “This whole business is so stressful that I’ll have cirrhosis if I’m here for much longer. Oh, okay.” I looked at Courtney’s dad who, just like last time, was grinning enthusiastically, the poor man. “A pint, some very cheap gin and tonic, thanks. And whatever you’re having yourself.”
We found a table.
“You did a good job tonight,” Ike said. “Calmed a lot of people down.”
My nod was brusque. I was pleased but I’d set my hair on fire before showing it.
“But are any of them the ones who did the damage?” he asked.
“I guess time will tell.”
“Don’t you want to know who it was?”
“Obviously I’d love to.” This was exasperating. “But if you’re going to tell me, then do it. I’ve had a long day.” I drank half my poteen and tonic in one go.
“Maybe,” he said, “The people who did it aren’t the ones who stand to benefit.”
“So you’re saying someone was paid to do it?”
“Me? I’m not saying anything.”
Oh, come on . “Stop hinting, Ike, please. If you—”
“Have you ever been to Sky Head? Cliff top. About ten kilometers down the road. Bit of a climb but amazing views. You’d like it.”
“How do you know what I’d like?” All of his cloak-and-dagger shtick was driving me mad.
“Come out there with me some afternoon.”
“I’m not on holiday, I’m here to work.”
“Which is why you should come with—Wait now! Did you think I meant a date?”
“Ah—” God, this was embarrassing. “I misunderst—”
“I’m sorry.” He was suddenly contrite. “That sounded—”
“Nope, fine. It’s all good—”
“Not that I’d mind, like—”
“—you’re safe.” Not that I’d mind, like! Could he sound anymore half-hearted? “It’s a long time since I found a narky man a challenge.”
“Narky? Me?” Confusion crossed his face.
Yeah, they can dish it out, these narky fuckers, but they can’t take it.
Then he nodded. “Fair. I guess I can be. Sorry, Anna, I made a mess of that.”
“You’re grand. Thanks for…” Was there actually anything to thank him for? No. I stood up and tipped the last of my suspect gin into my mouth.
“Anna?” In a hurry, he was getting to his feet.
But I was gone.
In these heady menopausal days I had nothing like the patience I’d once had, particularly for undeserving men. My irritation with Ike was reminiscent of the disagreement I’d had with a cluster of youths in Manhattan, which had resulted in my menopause diagnosis.
I’d been walking home from the subway when, up ahead, was a crowd of young men, five or six of them. Aged? Well, how would I know? Sixteen? Twenty? A selfish age, judging by their loud laughter and confident occupation of the sidewalk. Shoving, skittering, basically taking up space .
Space I needed to pass through.
But these young men couldn’t actually see forty-six-year-old women. When they focused on the spot I inhabited, they went temporarily blind.
It was hard to pinpoint when exactly my invisibility had begun. Had it been an overnight phenomenon or more of a gradual slide? Either way, it didn’t matter. Because I wasn’t having it.
I was getting closer and they weren’t doing any preliminary rearranging of themselves, in order to let me pass. Just carrying on, taking up all the fucking room .
I had lived countless lives. I had survived more loss and gain than their foolish young heads could ever imagine. I had loved and been loved; I’d been courageous and tough, tender and resourceful. I no longer had the bouncy skin they were accustomed to in their women but I aspired to be kind. I was wise and immensely capable, skilled at listening to boring stories about people’s drives to funerals and angry when I needed to be. Which was now.
Because I was almost upon them.
It was clear that they were not going to move.
But I was not about to stop.
I wondered what usually happened. Mrs Invisible stepped out into the road, risking life and limb? Or she hugged the wall, wriggling apologetically past them?
Well, today they were in for a surprise. The unstoppable force of an angry middle-aged woman would triumph over the immovable mountain of idiotic young men.
I barged into the throng, using my shoulders and elbows up top but underneath, maintaining the same steady pace. “Hey!” I heard. “Ow! What! You can’t just—”
Oh, but I can, I thought, I very much can .
Joey’s door opened immediately. Music was playing quietly. “Come in.” He stood to one side.
“No, Joey. Too tired.”
“Sorry to do this to you now but you’ve seven meetings tomorrow,” he said. “With pissed-off tilers, joiners and decorators. Basically the whole of tonight’s back wall.”
My spirits plummeted, but this was what I was paid for. “I need you to get me everything on the spec for the cottages. The tiles, wallpaper, paint, wood. The planned effects, visuals, costs—” The sound of swelling strings distracted me. “—everything you can think of. As fast as possible.”
“And what? You’ll stay awake all night working? The first meeting’s at eight thirty.”
I winced. “For the last few months, I’ve been getting out of bed at lunchtime. If at all.”
“You should be more like me, I’m up at six every day, even when I’ve nothing to do.” He laughed. “Although that’s never.” That was Joey all right: he didn’t do relaxation well.
Once again his music reached me and I had to ask, “What’s that you’re playing in there?”
“Oh.” He hesitated. “Beethoven.” Then, “Third Symphony.”
I was surprised. Wrong-footed, even. The Real Men had had a very particular, very limited musical palate. “Wouldn’t have had you down for a classical man.”
Another hesitation. “Music was always my thing. I guess my horizons have expanded.”
All of a sudden, his sophisticated musical taste seemed emblematic. “Joey. Look at you.” A mix of pride and sadness brought a lump to my throat. “Remember when we first met? No, I’m sure you don’t but you’ve achieved so much.”
“You mean a failed marriage and—”
“Don’t.” Now I was blinking away actual tears. “Please don’t.”
Confused, he opened the door wider. “Look, just come in, would you?”
I shook my head. “Night, night. Sleep tight. Send me that info.”
“…All right then. Wait! Did the big bloke say anything useful?”
“Aaah. He hinted that he knew who had done the damage. He implied it had been on someone else’s orders. But he wouldn’t confirm anything.”
“Time-wasting bullshit! He’s just stringing you along because he’s not man enough to ask you out.”
“It’s really not that.”
“Ha! You should have seen the way he was watching you doing your talk tonight.”
“That so?”
“Yeah. Like he wanted to eat you.”
“Send me on that info, Joey.”
“Anna. I need to say something.”
“Oh God, what ?”
“That email today? The mean one? They’re wrong, Anna. Your face is very sweet.”