Page 56 of Such a Good Couple
Suddenly Donal ambushed them and crushed Clara in a hug. ‘It’s the chief slag!’
‘Happy birthday!’ Clara kissed his cheek.
After a few minutes of Donal’s impassioned monologue about how forty was the new twenty-five, Clara extricated herself to go and locate Maggie and Annie.
Ploughing through the giddy crowd, she finally found them in the garden, lounging on wooden Adirondack chairs, passing a bottle of Buckfast back and forth and observing the great and the good of south Dublin. Beside them was Rachel, Annie’s friend who Clara had met the odd time in the pub for after-work drinks. She liked Rachel and was glad she and Annie had become so close. Clara felt bad that she wasn’t always free to see Annie as much as she’d like. Thank God for WhatsApp – it was probably the only thing keeping millennial friendships alive.
‘Hey, gals.’ She dispensed kisses and the usual compliments and knelt to lug a hefty stone bench closer to them to perch on top. ‘I very much support the Bucky, by the way – who brought that?’
‘Rachel did the honours,’ Maggie slurred merrily. ‘We have more hidden inside! The staff are under strict instructions to protect the stash. Let’s get you some.’
‘Nah.’ Clara sighed. ‘I’ll probably have to refrain. Me coming home pissed would no doubt give Ollie more points on the Great Leaderboard of Marriage.’
‘Oh … if you prefer …’ Maggie lowered her voice. ‘There’s cocaine in the third-floor bathroom.’
‘Maggie Strong!’ Annie pretended to be shocked.
‘What!’ Maggie laughed. ‘We have to have it for the models. It’s like their version of crudités, we couldn’t deprive them. And Donal’s marketing buddies are frantic for the stuff.’
‘Being coked up would also put me behind on the whole trying-to-prove-I’m-not-a-mess thing,’ Clara said darkly. ‘More fodder for the stupid counsellor.’
‘So, how did the first session go?’ asked Annie.
‘Let’s talk about literally anything else.’ Clara forced a grin. ‘Wanna talk about Conor?’
Rachel rolled her eyes, while Annie shook her head vehemently. ‘He’s here somewhere,’ she hissed.
‘Oh of course, sorry,’ Clara whispered back. ‘Any plans for moving yet?’
‘Actually, yes.’ Annie smiled at Rachel. ‘She’s taking me in.’
Rachel gave Annie a squeeze and said, ‘She’s literally our little lost orphan Annie.’
‘That’s nice.’ Clara picked up her glass. A small bit of champagne wouldn’t hurt. ‘Where do you live, Rachel?’
Three hours later and Clara was buried in a plush white sofa listening to Fionn and three of his very nearest and dearest, wildly famous Hollywood friends: Saint Fire, rapper and entrepreneur; Hugo Thomas, actor-director; and Seb Wade, actor-director-rapper-entrepreneur. Clara’s ‘bit of champagne’ had turned into ‘a bit of champagne’ and a ‘fuck it, give me the Buckfast’. The bottle of which she had just handed to Saint Fire, who was now grimacing violently.
‘This tastes like something you should be putting in an engine, not drinking!’
Clara giggled. ‘It’s one of the few English things Irish people will admit is amazing. It’s made in Devon by Benedictine Monks – they know what they’re at.’
‘So, you are … Clara?’ Hugo Thomas peered at her and thenglanced at Fionn. ‘Is she your new …?’
‘My new what?’ he asked.
‘Your new mistress, my friend,’ Hugo said knowingly, as Clara and Fionn looked at each other and then shook their heads, laughing. Hugo arched an eyebrow. ‘C’mon, Fionn – no mistress yet? Aka wife number two! You’re coming up on “The Time”. The old Hollywood Trade-In. If you don’t start collecting wives now, how do you hope to have as many ex-wives as me by the time you’re my age?’
‘Yeah,’ Seb Wade chimed in. ‘How else you gonna lose all your money if it’s not getting sucked away on alimony?’
‘Ewww.’ Clara glanced at Fionn. Were they really his friends?
‘It’s tradition!’ Hugo grinned.
‘Not for me, thanks.’ Fionn’s bright expression dimmed and Clara was relieved. At least he’s not participating.
Hugo just laughed. ‘How many ex-wives you got, Saint?’
‘Three – four if you count the Vegas marriage to my divorce lawyer’s legal secretary.’
