Ellie put the finishing touches to the quirky pale blue and denim hat that she’d made for Kim. Tomorrow they were all going for drinks in Café En Seine then dinner in Milano to celebrate Kim’s birthday and Fergus had secretly organized for a cake and candles to be brought to their table. The hat with its stiffened denim pieces was really unusual and should go perfectly with the blue strapless dress with the fitted skirt that Kim had bought in New York. Ellie had made a card and popped it into the hatbox along with a bottle of perfume and a packet of the dark chocolate that Kim loved and would deliver it round the corner to Davy’s stockbrokers as a surprise for her friend.
It had been busy all week after the publicity of their very successful street day, and a relaxed night out with her friends and no shop-talk was just what Ellie needed.
‘Birthday parties with a load of boring stockbrokers are hardly my thing,’ joked Rory as they shared chips from Burdock’s on their way home from watching some awful band he wanted to represent. ‘Anyway, I’ve one of the record company execs over from London tomorrow night and I have to entertain them. You go and enjoy yourself.’
‘But I want you to come,’ she pleaded, trying to get him to change his mind, ‘and Kim will be disappointed.’
‘Sorry, Els,’ he said, turning down the invite and shutting out her protestations with a kiss.
She pushed him off, annoyed. Here she was, dragged from one music venue to another at his whim, tonight listening to the worst band ever in a filthy pub, and yet he couldn’t give up a few hours to come with her to something that she considered important. Lately he was always away or doing something and they were seeing less and less of each other.
‘Ellie, don’t be like that,’ he teased. ‘You know I hate it when girls moan.’
Milano was busy on Thursdays and it was fortunate they had booked a table for twelve in the packed restaurant. Kim looked gorgeous and hugged Ellie, thanking her for the hat.
‘It was such a surprise,’ she giggled. ‘It’s amazing. Everyone at work loved it.’
Ellie could see from the admiring glances of Mick Doherty and Jamie Roche that it was for more than her hat that they considered Kim amazing.
‘Fergus, behave!’ warned Ellie, noticing that Fergus had taken it on himself to make sure the party went with a swing by topping up everyone’s red wine. ‘Hey, go easy,’ she cautioned her friend. Mary-Claire began pouring glasses of water.
The conversation was relaxed and Ellie found herself enjoying the night out. Kim almost burst into tears when the cake was served and half the restaurant joined in the singing as they all wished her happy birthday.
‘I could kill you two,’ she threatened Ellie and Fergus. ‘Except that I love you both to bits.’
At midnight the party threatened to break up. Ellie found herself yawning.
‘The night is young yet,’ declared Fergus. ‘Let’s go to a club.’
‘Lillie’s,’ declared Mick Doherty. The Davy’s gang were big fans of the nightclub and had passes to the VIP room upstairs. Ellie had already had far too much red wine but she couldn’t be a party-pooper on Kim’s birthday, and besides, Fergus had promised to get up and dance. She’d stay for half an hour and then go.
‘It’s only round the corner,’ urged Mick as they followed him down the lane and in past the club’s doormen.
‘Champagne for the birthday girl!’ he called the minute he managed to get the waitress’s attention. Kim was impressed and was flirting madly with him. Ellie gave her a birthday hug before Fergus dragged her downstairs to the dance floor. Exhausted after half an hour of trying to keep up with him, Ellie went back to the comfy couches in the lounge to sit down for a few minutes with Kim.
Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. She had spotted Rory. The room was pretty crowded but it was definitely him. He was sitting in the far corner on the red-print couch, having a beer with an attractive blonde, their heads close together as they chatted and laughed. That must be the exec he was meeting. She’d go over and say hello.
‘Ellie, let’s get out of here,’ urged Kim, grabbing her by the arm.
‘It’s OK,’ she tried to explain. ‘Rory told me he was going out tonight with someone from the business. It’s work. I’ll just go and let him know I’m here.’
‘No you won’t,’ said Kim, pulling her away. ‘The two of them were snogging the faces off each other ten minutes ago. I saw them, honest!’
Her friend persuaded Ellie to ignore Rory Dunne and not cause a scene but to come back to the bar where Fergus and Mary-Claire and Mick and the rest of their crowd were.
‘He’s such a cheat and a liar,’ argued Polo and Fergus furiously. ‘He obviously never expected you to turn up in Lillie’s.’
Ellie felt mortified to be let down so publicly in front of her friends. She hid in the loo for a while, embarrassed and hurt. When Kim told her that Rory and the blonde had left, she grabbed another glass of red wine. She danced and drank far too much for the rest of the night, trying to put him out of her mind. At three o’clock they decided to leave the club.
‘Come on, we’re all going to Eddie Rocket’s for something to eat,’ offered Kim. Ellie was too tired and upset and after tonight’s fiasco all she wanted was to get home.
‘Well, you’re getting a taxi, then,’ said Kim and Fergus, putting her into one in Dawson Street. ‘We’ll give you a call tomorrow.’
The taxi driver had only just gone past the Dáil when she asked him to stop and let her out at the Shelbourne Hotel as she suddenly felt she needed fresh air. Those were dreaded words to the taxi community and, fearing the worst, he had her out of the taxi in a shot. Ellie leaned against the rails as she tried to collect herself. It had been a wonderful night up to the point when she had seen Rory. He was such a liar. She’d been fooling herself all along. She took in a few gulps of air and began to walk slowly. She should never have drunk so much. Champagne and red wine, never. She tried to step out of the way of a crowd of businessmen standing outside the hotel. The smell of cigars and brandy hung in the air.
‘Ellie!’
Her heart plummeted. She didn’t want anyone she knew to see her in this state.
‘Are you all right?’ Neil Harrington asked, concerned, moving away from the group.
‘I’m just walking home,’ she tried to say gaily.
‘You seem to like doing that,’ he said dryly. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Well, no, I wasn’t alone. I mean . . . I am now. I was at a birthday thing with friends and we all went to Lillie’s after. But now I want to go home,’ she explained, holding on to the hotel railings for support.
‘I think you should let me walk you home,’ he said firmly.
Ellie was about to protest but felt suddenly glad to have someone like Neil offering to escort her.
‘Let’s go,’ he suggested, saying a brief goodnight to his colleagues.
‘And what are you doing out at this late hour of the night, Mr Harrington, might I ask?’ she giggled, trying to keep up with his long legs.
‘Having a farewell dinner with a legal colleague who is moving to Prague.’
‘Prague? I’ve never been to Prague,’ she sighed, catching his arm. ‘It’s meant to be beautiful and romantic, a city for lovers. That is, people who do have lovers!’
He said nothing as they crossed the road.
‘You probably have hundreds!’ she said argumentatively. ‘I have none. I’m being honest! Not even one.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ he said softly.
‘Well, it’s true,’ she said, putting her head in her hands, feeling like she was going to cry or puke and she wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Neil stood patiently beside her till the feeling passed.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’ll live.’
He took her hand as they crossed the road, the two of them watching a cat raid the boxes and bins outside a Leeson Street sandwich bar.
‘Nearly there,’ he said, coaxing her along as if she was a reluctant three-year-old.
The granite steps of number 44 Lower Hatch Street reared up in front of her and Neil took her key to open the entrance door.
‘Will you manage?’ he asked.
She gazed up at the steep flight of stairs and the yellow-patterned carpet.
‘Forget Prague, it’s Paris I want to go to,’ she crooned. ‘My mother grew up there, did you know that? All the women have lovers there, everyone does and no one cares about it. People don’t get hurt. They mind their own business.’
‘What floor are you on?’ he demanded.
‘The first, but I’m just going to sit down here for a little rest,’ she said, trying to lower herself on to the granite steps.
‘That’s not a good idea.’ He lifted her to her feet and helped her up the steps to the first landing. She felt like a floppy rag doll as he managed to get her up another floor and manoeuvred to open the flat door and get her inside. Ellie felt herself spinning, spinning, as she pointed out the bedroom.
She woke to her head throbbing and her mouth dry and the sound of a heartbeat, slow and regular. After a few seconds she realized it wasn’t her own and that she was lying across someone’s chest. For a moment she thought it was Rory, and then she remembered the night before. Cringing, she saw she was curled up on top of Neil Harrington, who was still fully clothed in a navy pinstripe suit, his dark hair standing on end. God, this was awful; by far the most embarrassing thing she had ever done in her entire life. Maybe she could pretend to be asleep and move off him and he would get up and go.
‘You awake?’ he asked gently, before she could do anything.
She nodded, too ashamed to speak.
‘Are you all right?’
Why was he always looking out for her? Catching her at her worst?
‘Yeah!’ she groaned, giving a huge sigh. ‘Listen, Neil. I’m sorry about last night. I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Nothing happened,’ he said quietly, moving her hair back off her face so he could see her better.
‘Honest?’
‘We’re both fully dressed.’
‘Why didn’t you leave?’
‘I wanted to make sure you were OK during the night.’
She moved to get up, to lift herself off him at least. She must have had him pinioned there all night. God, it was too awful to imagine.
‘Stay,’ he said, pulling her back down beside him. ‘You’re awake now.’
She felt his lips brush her forehead.
She closed her eyes and fell back into his arms. It was lovely lying here with him. But the pleasurable experience lasted only a minute. God, this was not what she had planned or imagined! What must Neil think of her?
‘I must have been like a crazy person last night, Neil, I’m so sorry,’ she apologized again, moving away from him. ‘I was upset and got drunk and I must have been really stupid and pathetic and talking nonsense, so please disregard anything I said.’
He laughed, sitting up properly and fixing his shirt and jacket. ‘You asked me to go to Paris with you.’
Ellie blushed red, red, red.
‘And what else?’ she said with a sinking feeling, seeing the mockery in his eyes.
‘You told me what we’d do when we got to Paris!’
No! No! No!
She knew by the laughter in his eyes that she had not been talking about the tourist trail. Ellie cursed her own romantic imagination and vowed never to drink so much as a drop of champagne again.
He looked pretty shattered. Unshaven, suit crumpled, hair all over the place.
‘Did you get to sleep at all?’ she asked, shamefaced.
‘A little, but you sang, you snored, you told me your plans for Paris. That was the nice bit – and then you snored again.’
‘Oh Neil, I’m so sorry,’ she repeated, humiliated.
‘Listen, Ellie, I’m going to have to go. I need a shave and a shower and a change of clothes back in my own place. I have to be in court in about an hour.’
She sat on the edge of the big double bed, not knowing what to say as he pulled on his shoes and combed his hair.
‘Until Paris,’ he said when she looked up, reaching to touch her face, outlining her jaw and mouth with his fingers. Ellie, surprised by the shared intimacy, was wishing he could stay.