Chapter 49
49
“Courtney, have you a number for local taxis?”
“No taxis tonight. Her ladyship is otherwise engaged.”
“How will we get to Ben’s?” Claire was woebegone. “I don’t want to drive.”
“I’m working in the morning, I don’t mind not drinking,” Courtney said. “Four can fit in my Ka, but it’d be tight. You’re a tall family.”
“And I can get four in my old yoke,” Rachel said.
But there were nine of us: Mum, Claire, Margaret, Rachel, Luke, Helen, Joey, me and Courtney herself.
I had a car: Mum’s Multipla was sitting right outside the hotel, gathering moss. But my plans for tonight did not include hanging around, waiting to drive people home. It was imperative that I could skip away with Ike any time I liked.
“This is what we do,” Helen said. “Yous go on. Imma stay with Regan, give her a bath. I’ll come later in the Death Star.”
Helen’s Death Star was her black Fiat 500.
“Okay. Great. Thanks.”
—
“Ben, you know my friend, Courtney Burke.” There was a slight anxiety he might be cross that I’d pulled a fast one by bringing her along.
He frowned. Then, “Courtney! You look, wow…So sorry, took a moment to recognize you.”
“No bother at all.” Courtney was grinning.
“So let me fix you guys some drinks,” Ben said.
“I’ll help,” Courtney said.
“Nope. You take care of a lot of folks,” Ben said. “Let me get you a drink.”
He disappeared. The large room was filling up fast—I spotted Ziryan, Valerie, the terrifying woman from Janette’s Jumpers, and Karina the hairdresser, bang on trend in her oversized jeans, her red-blonde hair falling almost to her elbows. The night was shaping up to be a big one. There was her ladyship. Tonight, clad in a severe dress and what looked like an Hermès twilly around her neck, she had a cool, almost daunting appeal.
“Sexy Man!” Vivian, in a tiny dress, her red lipstick appealingly smeared, advanced on Joey. “You’re back! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.”
Joey’s smile was small but entertained.
“You missed so much while you were gone,” Vivian declared. “Did you hear about this little amuse-bouche here? On Thursday night?”
Who? Me? Oh GOD, NO.
“So hot for Ike Blakely that they both disappeared before we’d even had dinner.”
“That wasn’t why—” I protested. And Vivian knew it, the troublemaker! I’d texted five apologies to her.
Who’s Ike Blakely? A rumble of talk had begun. St Patrick? Does she mean St Patrick?
“That’s right,” Vivian told Mum. “St Patrick in today’s parade.”
“I mean, wow .” Claire widened her eyes. “The way he held that staff of his.”
“I can guess.” Vivian was in full agreement. “Come and get it!”
“Abso-fricken!”
Kindred spirits, the pair of them. Embarrassment covered me like a fur. “Vivian.” I was desperate to tell my truth. “You’re completely misreprese—”
“Oh?” Her eyes sparkled with good-natured spite. “You’re saying nothing happened?”
“No, but—”
I stole a glance at Joey. His face was shuttered.
“Ben needs help with the drinks.” I escaped into the throng and found him in the kitchen.
“Ben, can I ask you a couple of questions,” I said. “If I’m overstepping any mark, tell me to get lost.”
“Sure.” He gave me three glasses. “Put ice in those.”
“Your paintings? Do you sell them?”
He laughed. “No. I do it just to stop me worrying about stuff.”
“So you don’t have a dealer? Have you any interest in a conversation with one? He’s based in New York.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Aw, come on, it’s just amateur hour. Can you carry these drinks?”
Back at the cluster of Walshes, Joey was politely engaging with Rose. It looked like a meet-cute in an opposites-attract romcom for the over-forties…called Not Dead Yet? Cosmopolitan Joey has decided to book his funeral? Extremely proper Rose is the funeral director? Joey is just a man with a very efficient approach to life—and of course, death—but Rose thinks he’s dying?
…Here came Ike, making straight for me. He said a reluctant hello to everyone then quickly hived me off from the group. Suddenly we were alone and he was gleaming at me, watchful and silent.
“So, ahhh. Did you fix Vivian’s hot water?” I asked, because one of us had to say something.
“Vivian’s…? Oh yeah, I did. I like the hair.” He lifted one of the loose tendrils and bunched it in his hand.
“Thanks.” Involuntarily, I glanced at Joey. Rose was gone, replaced by Karina, the hairdresser. She said something to make Joey laugh and I wondered how, in that moment, Karina felt? How would any woman feel if they met Joey and discovered he was single? Fluttery? Excite—Ike gave my lock of hair the gentlest of tugs, then opened his fist, letting it tumble down against the bare skin of my shoulder.
I smiled from under my lashes.
He stared in silence.
“…Was it fun being St Patrick?”
He made an unimpressed face. “I do it every year.”
“Oh.” This was unexpectedly awkward. Now we weren’t trading cryptic sentences about the trouble at Kearney’s Farm, we didn’t seem to know what to say.
After another uncomfortable patch, Ike said, “How’s it been? With your mum and that?”
“Nice. Ya, great.” The sooner we got out of here and down to his sexy-sounding house on the shore, the better.
But would the house be sexy? Would he even be sexy? Or had I constructed an entire imaginary scenario in my head? Holy Maloney, that was an unwelcome thought.
“So the go-boy is back in town,” Ike said.
“Ah. Yes.” I gathered myself. “Wasn’t expecting that!”
“Weren’t you, though?”
“Not at all, because the work had finished and…”
…I’d lost him. Ike was no longer listening. I followed his gaze: Helen had just arrived. Wearing tight black jeans, a zipped black jacket and black trainers, she looked as if she’d come to burgle Ben’s house.
“Anna!” She’d seen me.
Ike looked wonderstruck. I could only imagine the great roaring sounding in his head, the dazzlement of stars exploding before his eyes…
“I’m Helen,” she told Ike. “Anna’s—”
“Sister? That’s obvious. I’m Ike.”
“Where’s the Ben lad?” Helen looked around the busy room. “I’d better say hello. Anyone want a drink?”
“You can get me another of these.” Ike indicated his bottle of IPA. “That way you have to come back.”
…Aaaaaand all the shine drained from my night. I’d never hold Helen responsible for how the world responded to her. But Ike Blakely behaving like a besotted fool with me right next to him? I’m afraid that was a hard no.
This was never going to be anything other than a casual hookup but basic manners still applied. The outrageous nerve of him, openly preferring Helen to me. Not even trying to pretend. No way was I hanging around, playing second best, with this chump. His love-googly eyes were still following Helen around the room as I walked away.
No sign of any of my lot. Mum had probably led an undercover maneuver upstairs, to sneakily see the bedrooms; she was obsessed with other people’s houses.
Waiting to figure out my next move, I lurked by a wall and carried out surveillance. Helen returned to Ike—without his drink, I was cheered to notice; she’d done it deliberately, I was sure. She scanned the room for me, asked him a question, he looked surprised, gave a cursory glance around, then lowered his head, giving her his full attention.
All his appeal was gone, snuffed out like a candle flame. He wasn’t the sexy, noble, tough man I’d wanted him to be. He was just a bloke, who’d been distracted by the latest shiny thing. I’d projected an entire personality onto Ike Blakely based on a tool-belt and a reluctance to speak.
It wasn’t even him I was upset about—an old injury had been pressed on, that was all—but launching myself back into the throng was beyond me. I was unsettled and sad and just wanted to sneak back to the hotel. Nobody would even notice I was gone.
In a split second my decision was made. “Excuse me, I just need to…” I slid through the clusters of people into the entrance hall. With a surprising absence of farce, I located my marshmallow coat. The way the night was going, it would have been no surprise if the search had me stumbling over Joey and Karina going at it like rabbits in a spare bedroom.
The idea made me feel sick until I remembered that Joey had renounced all of that.
Had he really, though? It was so…unlikely.
Quietly I slid out into the night. I was so keen to escape that walking two kilometers in these boots didn’t seem like the ordeal it ordinarily would.
As I started off, a voice in the darkness asked, “Anna? Is that you?”