Page 33 of The Snag List
ROE: Yes! Where are you?
AILBHE: I’m trapped in a group of people who are either doing vocal exercises or having a communal stroke.
In minutes, Ailbhe spotted Roe and Lindy emerging from the densely packed crowd. At the exact same time, she heard her name being called behind her.
‘Ailbhe O’Casey, only the hottest girl in Dublin, how the hell are you?’
Ailbhe whirled round and narrowly avoided headbutting the tall and intensely handsome blast from the past who’d stooped to kiss her cheek.
‘Seb? Oh wow, Seb Knox?’ She recovered from their near-collision and quickly smoothed her pale pink T-shirt dress, carefully running her tongue over her front teeth. The thought:Please God, I hope I look goodsped across her mind.Stop that, Ailbhe!What was he doing here? ‘You’re in London.’
‘I’m … not?’ He laughed, leaned in and brushed a kiss against her neck right below her ear. Fuck, that was some intimacy-exchange shit. She jerked back and checked to see if Lindy and Roe had seen. Roe was buried in her phone, humming to herself and tapping a foot anxiously. Lindy, however, was watching their greeting with interest.
‘Lindy, this is—’
‘Seb Knox? Yep, I got that.’ Lindy smirked and Ailbhe tried to telepathically communicate:Don’t show me up, Lindy, and don’t for God’s sake mention the husband and baby I’m touting around nowadays.
‘Any news?’ Seb was grinning down at Ailbhe. He looked different to last summer; his salt and pepper hair was shaggier. But he still had those distracting lips and that bulk and solidity she’d always loved. ‘How’s life?’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘You’re very quiet on socials these days?’
Oh God, all these months she’d been lurking around his Insta, he’d been looking at hers too.
‘Life’s good.’ Ailbhe was breezy. ‘Not much to report.’ This elicited a snort from Lindy, which Ailbhe snuffed out with a sharp look.
‘So,’ Ailbhe continued. ‘How are you? Back in Dublin? Are you here with work? Or a wife?’ Oh fuck, that sounded playful in her head but psychotic out loud.
‘A wife? God, no, nothing like that. I don’t move on that quickly, even when someone doesn’t answer my texts.’ His hazel eyes were twinkling at her in a very, very cute way. She was glad she’d picked this dress: it showed off her legs very nicely, if she did say so—Wait, no, Ailbhe, you do not want anything from him, remember?
Suddenly, she became consumed with a terrible realisation. The pale pink dress was about to screw her royally as a troubling ache started up in her right breast –no, please, not now, she willed silently. The fucking breastfeeding. She seemed to have a very sensitive letdown, and the right boob had evidently misread her intrigue at Seb’s taut upper arms as maternal instinct.
She crossed her right arm over her chest to cover any leakage and smiled as he continued. ‘I’m producing this for RTÉ and handling the TikTok tie-in.’
‘Ah yes.’ Lindy perked up. ‘Our friend Roe is auditioning for it.’
‘It’s not really our usual thing but it’s a bitta buzz. I’m just delighted to be going into production on anything after the year we’ve had. And so glad you and Holly are doing the hair and makeup. I actually didn’t realise – my production designer, Claire, booked ye.’
‘Cool. Yeah. We’re thrilled with the gig.’ Ailbhe tried to focus on what he was saying. Shit. Holly working with Seb? What if he told her something? She’d need to keep Holly and Seb apart as much as possible.I’ll insist she needs to stay in the salon. Let Siobhán and me do it. How was this happening? And on this day during the feariest hangover of her life?
Oh, shite, who cares? Tom and I will be gone. We will be gone, we will be gone, she self-soothed. The main thing now was to extract from this conversation before the deluge started.
‘We’re about to start getting some establishing shots. I won’t need you prepping participants for about an hour. Once they’re getting up to sing, I’ll get you doing a bit of powder and whatever else you think.’
Ailbhe nodded vigorously, both arms now wrapped around her chest, while she clenched her whole body in a desperate (and illogical?) bid to control the letdown. Just then, an older woman swung in between them.
‘You’re the producer, right? I’ve had cancer twice, and we lost everything in the crash,’ she shouted. ‘You have to make me a main character. It’s the perfect backstory – rags to riches and chemo to soprano!’
‘Don’t worry.’ Seb adopted a soothing voice. ‘We’ll be shooting for two months – I promise you will get on camera.’
The woman beamed and hurried back to a gaggle of mezzo sopranos who were all looking hungrily at Seb.
Seb turned back to Ailbhe, shuddering. ‘These am-dram ones are next level. See you in a bit – you can set up beside the stage through those doors.’ He pointed at the double doors leading to the auditorium, then headed over towards a cluster of camera operators lugging equipment. Ailbhe exhaled with relief, turning back to Lindy and Roe just as two wet patches, a darker pink than the rest of her dress, seeped out beyond the cover of her arms.
‘What was that?’ Lindy’s eyes were gleaming with the intrigue. ‘Good God, you’re lactating.’ Lindy shook her head.
‘He started it!’ Ailbhe was rocked to her core.
‘Oh my God, is he your snag, Ailbhe? The one that got away?’
‘Absolutely not, he’s the one I want to get awayfrom. I haven’t seen him in … like … years. We used to hang out with lots of the same people. I hate Dublin. It’s non-stop running into people you low-key hate slash are trying to avoid.’
