How Emily Got Promoted

I wrote this short story for the Irish Girls are Back in Town collection. I hope you like it!

Emily tapped her nails against the wheel impatiently and scowled at the learner driver in the ancient dark blue Volkswagen Golf in front of her who was crawling along at just over 20 miles per hour.

`You're not even supposed to be driving on the motorway,' she said out loud, feeling foolish as soon as the words had left her mouth since there was no one but her in the car. Hardly a motorway, she thought. The M55 was being dug up (again) for some hair-brained reason to do with drainage, leaving only one lane of traffic on either side of the road, framed by hundreds of orange traffic cones, a host of luminous yellow vested, bum-scratching workmen, JCBs and yet-to-be-laid steaming piles of crumbly, hot black tarmacadam.

The Golf stalled, stopping the traffic dead, and the cars and lorries snaking behind Emily began to beep their horns, short parps with some semblance of restraint at first, gradually getting longer and longer, until the young man behind her, a sales rep she had no doubt, decided to rest his hand on his air-enhanced horn (which played the theme tune from The Simpsons) for several seconds, blasting Emily out of it.

`Men!' She sighed in exasperation and indicated left. She'd had enough, she was damned if she was going to sit in this heinous traffic for a moment longer. There was a garage just ahead of her, she'd turn the car around and use the back roads to Kinbarr Village, the chi-chi County Wicklow village where Baroque Shoe Emporium and several exclusive clothes shops were located, and where her friend Cathy lived with her husband and two children. It might be almost twice the distance but at least the roads would be quieter and less stressful.

As she drove along the leafy back roads her mobile rang. She grabbed it from the passenger seat, clicked it on and held it to her ear.

`Hello? Yes?' she demanded.

`Are you all right?' the voice on the other end asked. It was Anita, one of her oldest friends, an ex-journalist who now ran her own fashion pr company. `You sound a little stressed.'

`Oh, sorry, Anita. I've just had one of those mornings. I was supposed to get shoes I borrowed for a shoot back to `Baroque' before twelve. And then I have to go to Cathy's house for some charity lunch thing.'

`Emily, it's ten past one.'

`Tell me about it. Listen, I need your help, do you have a second?'

`Sure, fire ahead. But should you be talking and driving simultaneously?' Anita asked with concern.

`Of course not,' Emily tried not to snap. She didn't have time for this. `But I'm running so late . . .' she sighed deeply, hoping her friend would take pity on her and drop the subject. Anita was a stickler for the rules and talking on your mobile while driving had recently been made an offence in Ireland.

`What happened to that hands-free kit I bought you?' Anita continued unabashed.

Emily ignored her. It was still sitting in its packaging on her desk, buried somewhere under the magazines, newspaper clippings and general work detritus. `Anita, I promised Kitty three thousand words by the day after tomorrow for the July edition.' Kitty was the editor of Ruby magazine, a strong, ambitious woman who although three years younger than Emily, had clawed her way to the journalistic top and intended to stay there.

`On what?' asked Anita.

`That's the problem. I haven't a clue. She wants something glitzy and `now', maybe an interview with a designer, something about shoes, sex . . . oh, I don't know. I'm all out of ideas. That's why I need your help. Have you got anything for me?'

Anita thought for a moment. `How about an interview with Steve Bailey, he's over from London at the moment and his new collection is creating quite a stir.'

`Did him in January.'

`A feature on Bez Goggin's shoes? Barney's in New York have just started stocking them and . . .'

`Kitty interviewed her in March. And I did her for the Irish Times magazine a few weeks ago.'

`Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that. Um, the Fuchsia Pink Fashion Ball?'

`May.'

`The new velour tracksuits from the Bebop range?'

`Nope. Done to death. And anyway I couldn't do a whole three thousand words on tracksuits. What is there to say?'

`Thongs?'

Emily wrinkled her nose. `Or on thongs.'

`What about that glam celebrity chef - Hannah Wixton - isn't she over this week promoting her new book?' Anita suggested, refusing to admit defeat. She wasn't in PR for nothing. `Lou Lou Brady represents the publishers; I could give you her number. She might be able to set something up. She owes me one - I helped her organise the Red Letter Ball for Crumlin Children's Hospital last autumn.'

`Anita, you're a genius! Hannah would be perfect - give me Lou Lou's number and I'll ring her right now. Hang on, I need to pull in and grab a pen.'

`You could key it straight into your mobile,' Anita pointed out.

`I could, if I was mobile literate, but I'm not,' Emily reminded her. `I haven't worked out how to do that yet without cutting you off. And anyway, I'm driving, remember?'

`I'll explain anyway,' Anita began, `it's a useful skill to have, it's easy, you just . . .'

`Another time. Right now I have things to do and Lou Lous to ring.'

 

Anita smiled as she clicked off her mobile. She hoped to goodness that Emily got the staff job at Ruby. It might make her friend a little less manic - Emily had been freelancing for three years now, ever since Dublin Today, the newspaper where she had been fashion editor had gone belly-up. And freelancing was exhausting - no security - you were only as good as your last piece and you had to spend your life licking up to editors, in the hope that they would throw some decent work your way. She should know - she'd done it herself for long enough. Then again, maybe Emily would always be manic. In all the years they'd known each other, she'd barely even paused for breath. Emily's long-term boyfriend, Harry, was the most easy going and patient man in the world and they made the perfect couple - his relaxed nature grounded Emily and gave her the stability she didn't have in her working life and she gave him the spark and vitality that at times, to be frank, he lacked. They were a great couple - oddly well matched but it seemed to work. The type of relationship Anita herself aspired to - in a few years that way - no mad hurry. She had a pr empire to build up after all. She was currently enjoying a rather fun flirtation with a much younger male model called Freddy. In fact, she was meeting his this weekend for a drink (she'd asked him!) and who knows where that might lead.

Anita sat further back in her generously sized orange swivel chair, put her pen in her mouth and clicked it against her teeth. She supposed she should really do some work but she desperately needed some new knee-high boots to go with her leather skirt, so she could wear it on her date with Freddy. She'd worn her old boots so much that they were shot. She smiled - that was the joy of working for yourself - you could go shopping whenever it was quiet and catch up with work in the evening. She stood up and grabbed her brown suede handbag from the top of the desk. Brown Thomas here I come, she skipped out of the office, swinging her bag and sweeping her sunglasses from the top of her head where they were perched, onto her eyes.

 

`Lou Lou, it's Emily O'Brien, Anita's friend.'

`Hi, Emily, how can I help you?' Lou Lou came straight to the point. Like Emily, she was a busy woman.

`I'd like to interview Hannah Wixton for the July issue of Ruby. Any slots free?'

`Plenty. But I should tell you, Joy are doing a feature on her for their July issue. Is that a problem?'

Shit, shit, shit, Emily thought. I should have got in there earlier. Joy was another Irish women's magazine, Ruby's main rival. `Have Hannah already done the interview?' she asked Lou Lou.

`Yes, on Monday. With Valerie Powell. They're doing a three page spread and they might use a photograph of her on the cover.'

Emily held back her expletives. `That's a pity. But I'm afraid I can't do anything then. Anyone else around?'

Lou Lou thought for a second. `I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Rex O'Hara's new film is opening tomorrow tonight in the Savoy . . .'

`Is he in Dublin?' Emily asked excitedly. Rex was one of Ireland's biggest stars, a local boy made good in Hollywood and the darling of the media. He was polite, well mannered, a fantastic, classically trained actor and devastatingly good looking, a killer combination.

`Yes. I can't promise anything, his schedule is packed, but leave it with me. I'll get back to you within the hour, OK?'

`I really appreciate this, Lou Lou,' Emily said. `Thanks.'

`No problem. Talk to you later.'

Emily clicked off her phone and breathed a sigh of relief. Rex O'Hara. If she could just pull this one off then the staff job would be in the bag. What Anita didn't know was that Harry had suggested buying a house together in the Autumn, and Emily knew that banks didn't look too kindly on freelancers. Hence her interest in the staff job. Emily loved Harry to bits and living with him would make everything just perfect. At the moment he spent most nights in her apartment in Donnybrook, but it wasn't the same. What she really craved was a little house near the sea, in Shankhill or Bray maybe. She'd had enough of town living, it was time to go suburban. She wanted to spend more time with him, in a place they both owned. Harry, a primary school teacher, wanted to buy an old place and do it up - he was a dab hand with a power drill and was itching to get stuck into a project. She had no interest in DIY but was looking forward to putting her eclectic stamp on the interior - mixing functional new pieces from Ikea and Arnotts with some inherited antiques. And she couldn't wait to hit the stately home auctions - she'd covered one for a travel magazine recently and it had proved to be a fascinating day out. She'd even bought an old oil painting - for the ornate gold frame - and had had it transformed into a stunning mirror. All she needed now was the fireplace to put it over.

She checked in her rear view mirror and moved away from the side of the road. She was so late for Cathy's lunch thing. But she'd promised to make an appearance so she'd better get moving. Luckily she was only ten minutes away from Kinbarr Woods, the housing estate where Cathy lived. She'd drop the shoes into Baroque in Kinbarr Village and be at Cathy's a few minutes later. Perfect.

It was always a struggle keeping in contact with Cathy as she lived such a different life style to her own. Cathy had got married at twenty-five to Arthur Ryan, a highly respected fine art auctioneer twelve years her senior - a sumptuous affair in a marquee in the in-laws huge back garden - with all the trimmings. Cathy had completed a year at beauty college before taking a typing course and landing a good, steady job as a receptionist at an auction house, where she'd met Arthur. She'd left her final and last job (as her husband's PA) as soon as she was married and dutifully produced children in quick succession - two blonde-haired dotes called Annabelle and Arthur (after his father, of course, although Emily found it rather confusing). It didn't help that Anita and Cathy just didn't get on - Anita found Cathy exasperatingly smug and Cathy couldn't understand Anita's reluctance to find a husband and settle down. The three women did occasionally meet for lunch but Emily always ended up keeping the peace, which she found exhausting.

Emily dropped the shoe boxes into Baroque without a hitch, finding a parking slot just outside the shop, and pulled up outside Cathy's house at bang on twenty past one. The road outside the house was littered with four wheel drives and large people carriers, all with the obligatory car seats fitted and the bright pink and light blue `baby on board' stickers. Emily always wondered what exactly these stickers meant - beware, driver likely to swerve at any moment. Or maybe, beware, driver likely to ask you extremely personal questions like a/when you're getting married, b/ when you're thinking of starting a family or c/ isn't it as shame you're still single and would you like to meet their cousin Fred, he has a bit of a BO problem, but sure, isn't he available and beggars can't be choosers. Emily parked behind a brand spanking new black Range Rover jeep, with not a speck of mud on it, grabbed the bottle of wine and her bag from the floor on the passenger side, where it had been rolling around, but luckily hadn't broken, and locked her car. As she walked towards Cathy's house she heard shrieks from the front garden and watched as Arthur junior soaked two larger boys with the garden hose. She smiled. Good old Arthur, always in trouble. The boys were dressed in white linen shorts and carefully pressed matching light blue shirts, and Emily just knew that their mother wouldn't be too amused at her little darlings' soaked apparel. Arthur, as usual, was butt naked. At four, he was a little old to be constantly naked, and Cathy hated it, she spent her days running after him, cajoling him to at least put some shorts on. But Arthur was a stubborn little fellow and always ripped his clothes off at every opportunity. Only in his father's presence was he ever fully clothed.

`Hi, Arthur,' Emily grinned. `How are things?'

Arthur looked at Emily, at the hose and then back at Emily.

`Don't even think about it,' Emily threatened. `I have something for you in my bag but don't tell your mum, OK?'

Arthur nodded eagerly, dropped the hose at his feet and ran towards her, his blonde hair splattering water all over the path.

`Hi, Emily,' he said, giving her a wide, toothy grin. He immediately stared at her bag.

Emily laughed. `Expecting something to eat?' she asked.

He nodded eagerly. Emily, his Godmother, always brought him a treat when she visited. Cathy always gave out to her for it - Arthur was only allowed sweets on Saturdays, and even then he had to wash his teeth carefully afterwards, taking most of the fun out of the consumption.

Emily dug her hand into her red leather bag and pulled out a packet of Starburst, Arthur's favourite. `Here you go.' She handed them over and smiled at his obvious delight.

`Thanks, Emily.' He threw his arms around her thighs and gave her an almighty hug.

`You're welcome, Pet.' She extracted his arms and looked towards the front door. There on the front door step was Cathy, her arms folded in front of her chest, with a serious expression on her face.

`Uh-oh,' Emily murmured. `Caught in the act. I'll see you later, young man.' She ruffled Arthur's damp hair and patted him gently on the bottom. `Off you go.'

He toddled off happily towards the paddling pool, his mouth jammed full of fruity flavour.

`Hi, Cathy,' Emily said a little too brightly. He leant over and kissed her friend on the cheek, then thrust the bottle of wine into her hands. Cathy looked tired - there were faint purple shadows under her eyes and her skin was pale, but Emily thought it better not to say anything.

`Thanks,' Cathy murmured. `But I've asked you before not to give Arthur sweets. It ruins his routine.'

`Sorry,' Emily said, not in the least bit contrite. `I'll try to remember next time. Now where's the food, I'm starving?'

Cathy stood back and allowed her friend walk inside. As soon as Emily entered the hall she was hit with the dulcet screams of a baby coming from the living room.

`Who's strangling the cat?' she asked.

Cathy glared at her. `Simon O'Kelly's teething. It's hardly his fault, poor lamb.'

`I suppose not,' Emily said. Cathy seemed to be in a right old mood - it was better to humour her. `The hall looks lovely, I like the cream. Very classy.'

`The painter only left yesterday,' said Cathy. `Do you really like it? I'm not sure. It's very plain, isn't it?'

`I really do,' Emily reassured her. `It just needs a couple of pictures to brighten it up, then it'll be perfect.'

Cathy smiled at her gratefully. `You're right. That's just what it needs.'

Just then two toddlers dashed past them, limbs akimbo. Emily curved her body backwards to avoid their flailing arms. `More kids.' She laughed. `Opps, forgot to bring mine.'

Cathy went quiet for a moment. She had a peculiar expression on her face. Emily couldn't quite read it.

`Cathy?' she asked. `Are you ok?”

`I forgot to tell you.'

`Tell me what?'

`It's a `Tiny Tots' lunch.'

`A what?' Emily asked in confusion.

`You know - the mothers and babies club I'm in.'

Emily stared at her. `You mean everyone here has a baby with them?'

Cathy nodded. `Or a toddler.'

`What were you thinking?' Emily demanded. `You practically begged me to come along.'

`I know, but I really want to talk to you about something and you're always so busy at the weekends.' She began to play with the ends of her hair nervously. `We have such different lives these days and it's so hard with two kids and everything and . . .'

Emily put her arm around Cathy's shoulders. Her friend was obviously upset about something. `Not to worry, Cathy,' she said soothingly. `I'll stay for a little bit and we can talk.'

Cathy smiled at her gratefully. `Thanks, I really appreciate it. Maybe you'll even enjoy it.'

`Maybe.' Emily attempted a smile. She'd met some of Cathy's Tiny Tots friends before and they weren't exactly overawed by her childless state. In fact some of them had been positively hostile towards her when she'd explained that her career came first at the moment and that she had no intention of breeding quite yet, thanks very much. She was only just twenty-six after all, there was no rush.

`Come into the kitchen and get something to eat,' said Cathy.

Emily didn't have to be asked twice.

Once in the kitchen, Cathy handed her a large dark blue pottery plate.

`These are nice,' Emily said, tapping the plate with her finger with a hollow ping. `New?'

Emily nodded. `Yes, they're from the Avoca shop. Do you really like them?'

`Sure. They're a great colour.'

`Do you honestly like them or are you just being kind?'

Emily looked at her friend. `Cathy, they're just plates.'

Cathy blushed. `Sorry, yes, I know. Help yourself to salads and bread.' She pointed at the table which was groaning with plates and bowls full of delicious looking food. `And there's homemade pizza slices and quiche over there on the sideboard. And pavlova for dessert.'

Emily whistled. `You've gone to a lot of trouble.' She began to heap some potato salad onto her plate. Maybe this lunch wasn't going to be so bad after all - at least she'd get well fed.

`Hello, Emily.' A tall woman dressed in a white linen top and matching skirt glided towards them. Her long black hair was heaped elegantly onto the top of her head, a few choice wispy tendrils escaping to frame her perfectly oval pale face.

`Hi, Lavinia,' Emily said evenly. Of all Cathy's friends she found Lavinia the most painful. The three women had been in the same class in school, but Cathy and Lavinia had only become pally since they'd met again in Tiny Tots.

`How's work?' Lavinia wrinkled her nose as she said work, as if the word alone was distasteful.

`Fine, thanks,' Emily replied. `And how are the twins?'

`Very well, thank you. Milo's just started Suzuki violin and Eliza is taking ballet and Greek dancing. Good to expand their cultural sides, don't you think?'

`Quite.' As the twins were only just four Emily thought Lavinia was clearly throwing her money away but who was she to judge? After all, Lavinia had married rich - Cormac O'Hare, a property developer twenty years her senior.

Emily wasn't exactly sure what to say next, so she said nothing. Lavinia immediately filled the conversational vacuum.

`And what are you working on at the moment? Still freelancing in the fashion world? Or have you managed to move on yet?' Lavinia gave Emily a sickly smile. `Must be annoying being stuck in a rut like that.'

`Still in fashion,' Emily said, refusing to be goaded. `I spent all morning shooting flat packs of shoes. Nothing terribly glamorous. All the latest ranges for autumn from Italy, France, the US . . . boring really.'

Lavinia raised her eyebrows. Profound snob she might be, but she did have rather a well-developed shoe fetish. `Really?' she asked, her interest piqued.

`But you wouldn't be interested in something as rutty as shoes, now would you, Lavinia? The Emma Hopes and Bez Goggins of this world are so frightfully boring, darling.' With that Emily turned towards Cathy who was listening to the two women's conversation open-mouthed. `Now, Cathy, you had something to ask me?' Emily asked pointedly.

Cathy thought for a moment. `Um, yes, um it was about a dinner I have to attend. I wanted some advice on what to wear.'

`I'll see you later, Cathy.' Lavinia swept out the patio doors into the garden.

`Did you have to wind up Lavina like that?' Cathy asked Emily.

`Lavinia!' Emily snorted. `She was plain old Lucy when we were all in St John's together. And what right does she have to question my career? Stupid cow.'

`Don't let it get to you. She's just jealous. She'd love your job you know, I think she's a little bored to tell the truth.'

`It can't be easy with a nanny and an au pair and a housekeeper,' Emily said scathingly.

`Don't be so sarcastic, it doesn't suit you.' Cathy said.

`Sorry, I'm just tired. It's been one hell of a week.'

`And why were you putting furniture together?' Cathy asked.

`Sorry?'

`Flat packs.'

Emily laughed. `Not those kind of flat packs. It's what we call photos of shoes or clothes taken against a white background.'

`Oh, I see. But how . . .'

`Cathy, have you got a cloth? Joe has had a little accident, I'm afraid.' A large, pink-faced woman stood in front of Cathy, interrupting their conversation.

`That's OK, Jen,' Cathy assured her. `It's nothing to worry about. Boys are like that.'

`Potty training,' the woman mouthed to Emily, who really didn't want to know.

A few minutes Emily's mobile rang and she excused herself and moved into the hall to answer it.

`Emily. Bad news I'm afraid,' Lou Lou said on the other end of the phone.

`Oh?' Emily asked.

`Rex is completely booked up for the whole day and night. And he's not doing any interviews tomorrow as he's spending the day with his family. Sorry. I gave it my best shot.'

`Not to worry, thanks for trying.'

`Not at all. Talk to you soon. Must dash. Ciao.'

Emily clicked off her mobile. What the hell am I going to do now? she thought.  

 

Emily ran her spoon around the bowl, picking up the remnants of her pavlova.

`Hi, I'm Polly,' the dark-haired woman sitting beside her on the sofa volunteered. `And that's Molly.' She gestured to the blonde haired girl who was dressing a Barbie doll on the floor in front of them. `She's nearly four.'

Polly and Molly? Emily looked at the woman's face for any trace of irony, but found none.

`Hi, I'm Emily. I'm a friend of Cathy's.'

`And which is yours?' Polly asked.

`Excuse me?'

`Child? Which one is yours?'

`I don't actually have any children,' Emily said evenly.

`Really?' Polly said raising her eyebrows. So what are you doing here? her expression read.

`I just came to see Cathy,' Emily explained. `I'm not in Tiny Tots, of course . . .' she tailed off, not knowing quite what to say.

Molly stood up, ran over to her mother and climbed onto her knee. `Mummy, I'm hungry,' she said. `Milk?'

Polly smiled and patted her daughter's head. The child nuzzled into her chest and Polly lifted her sweatshirt. The child immediately latched onto the nipple of her mother's rather ample left breast.

`Doesn't she have a full set of teeth?' Emily asked before she could stop herself, more than a little shocked. She had no problem with babies being breastfed, in fact she was all in favour of it, but this . . .

Polly smiled at her indulgently. `Yes, but she doesn't bite. She puts her lips over them, see?'

Emily didn't really want to look, but thought it rude not to. `Ah, yes. Well, I'll leave you to it.' She jumped up and made her way back into the kitchen.

`Are you all right?' Cathy asked her. `You look a little flustered.'

`There's a woman in the living room breastfeeding a four year old.'

Cathy shrugged her shoulders. `Some mothers continue until the child is big.'

`That can't be right,' Emily stated. `Psychologically I mean.'

`Shush, keep your voice down,' Cathy warned her, looking around.

`Oh, I shouldn't have stayed,' Emily said. `This just isn't me. I'm sick of being asked where my children are. I haven't had a normal conversation yet.'

`What's normal?' Cathy asked with a smile. `It's just different, that's all. Not what you're used to.'

`Maybe.'

`Anyway, you can't go yet; I haven't had a chance to talk to you properly. Please stay.'

Emily glanced at her watch. `OK. I'll stay for half an hour. But that's it.'

`Great. I'll introduce you to Pamela. You'll like her. She's very normal. She's keeping an eye on Annabelle for me.'

Pamela was sitting outside with some of the other mothers, including the dreaded Lavinia, who looked up, caught Cathy's eye and immediately looked away again.

`Pamela, this is Emily. We're old friends.'

`Hey, less of the old,' Emily laughed.

`Nice to meet you, Emily.' Pamela smiled up at her, shielding her eyes from the hazy sun. She was dandling a very contented Annabelle on her knee. `And you know little Annabelle.'

`Of course. And which are your children?'

Pamela waved her hand at the back of the garden where several youngsters were playing on the wooden climbing frame and slide. `Dan and Sally are over there somewhere, but let's not talk about them. Emily's told me about your job, it sounds fascinating. Sit down and tell me all about it. I'm so deprived of adult conversation these days. I used to be a journalist for one of the dailys and I really miss it.'

Emily was only too delighted to do so and began to tell Pamela about Ruby magazine and some of the recent fashion pieces she'd written or styled.

`I'll be back in a moment,' Cathy said, delighted that the two of them seemed to be hitting it off.   

`Two journalists in one garden,' Lavinia called over from the garden chair where she was sitting. `That must be a first for Tiny Tots.'

`What would you call a group of journalists?' the small, fine boned woman beside her asked. It was Lavinia's `bestest friend', Millie, also a St John's old girl. They'd been painful in school, and if you asked Emily they were still painful.

`A gaggle?' Lavinia suggested.

`I'll think you'll find that's geese,' Pamela said mildly.

`How about a gossip of journalists?' Emily suggested.

`Oh, very clever, Emily.' Lavinia smiled, the smile stopping at her lips and never reaching her eyes. `How about a scum of journalists?'

Pamela looked at Emily and back at Lavinia. `And what about us mums? A comfort of mums?'

`Oh, but we're not all mothers here, are we?' Lavinia pointed out.

`Do you have a problem with that?' Emily asked sharply.

Pamela put her hand on Emily's. `I think you're very lucky, personally. I'd love to have some of my own time back. And a job. I never thought I'd say it, but I miss working.'

`I certainly don't,' Millie sniffed. `Highly overrated, work.'

`Surely not,' Pamela said. `And besides, looking after children is work. It's much harder than my job ever was.'

Lavinia and Millie said nothing. Both had more staff than were strictly necessary.

`How's Daisy's lovely boyfriend, Millie?' Pamela asked, anxious to diffuse the situation. `He's doing really well for himself these days. I loved `Bright Water', he was brilliant in it.'

`Rex is fine,' Millie replied smugly. `Very busy of course with the new film. The premier is tomorrow night and he's up to ninety with interviews and photo calls. We haven't seen much of him or Daisy this trip.'

`You know Rex O'Hara?' Emily asked in amazement.

`Yes,' Millie smiled condescendingly at her. `Didn't you know? He's going out with my sister, Daisy.'

`No. I had no idea.'

`They've been together for three years now but they keep their personal lives to themselves. The whole Hollywood thing can be unbearably tedious otherwise - everyone knowing your business.'

`I suppose so. Where did she meet him? Have they been together long?'

 Millie sighed. `But let's not talk about him, tres boring, don't you think?'

`Not at all,' Emily insisted. `In fact I was hoping to interview him for Ruby. Maybe you could ask him for me. It wouldn't take long - just some questions and a quick photo. I'd be really grateful. I asked his publicist but I left it too late.'

Millie stared at her. `Let's just forget you said that, will we dear?'

`So crass,' Lavinia added. `Really, Emily. Have you no manners?'

`I don't really see what the problem is,' Emily said. `I just asked . . .'

`Let's just drop it,' Lavinia interjected. `Better that way. So Pamela, how's pregnancy coming along? Any morning sickness?'

Emily was mortified. Maybe she shouldn't have asked for Millie's help, but this was Dublin for goodness sake, not Hollywood, people helped each other over here. And it was the media that had made Rex O'Hara the superstar that he was today.

Emily tried not to think about Lavinia's put down and studied Pamela's stomach. It was certainly gently rounded but she honestly hadn't noticed.

`No, thank goodness,' Pamela replied. `I'm feeling great.'

`How pregnant are you?' Emily asked. She thought she should try to show some interest.

`Nearly six months.'

`Wow, you look great, so slim.'

`That's not always a good thing, Emily,' Lavinia said thoughtlessly. `It can mean that the baby isn't developing properly.'

`But in this case, it's fine, Lavinia,' Pamela said pointedly. `The baby is very healthy thank you very much.'

`I didn't for a moment mean to suggest . . .'

`I'm sure you didn't,' Pamela interrupted. `You'd never do anything like that, would you, Lavinia?'

`Um, what's Rex's new film about, Millie?' Emily gabbled, clutching at straws. Cathy would be upset if she came out to find them all bickering. `Have you seen it yet? Is it good?'

`Is this on the record?'

`Of course not, I was just wondering.'

`I don't think I can divulge anything about `Lands End',' Millie said sniffily. `Just in case. You'll have to see it at the cinema like everyone else.'

`Right,' Emily said, tight lipped. She'd had enough of trying to keep the peace and be `nice'. Lavinia and Millie deserved to be horse whipped. `Um, so Pamela, did I tell you about my new Bez Goggin boots? I interviewed her last week. Lovely woman, not a bit pretentious. She gave me a pair of fab red boots to say thank you for the plugs I've been giving her in the press.' She knew it was petty but she didn't care.

`So how are you all getting on?' Cathy asked as she walked back into the garden.

`Oh, just swimmingly,' Emily lied. `Aren't we, girls?'

 

An hour later, Emily was sitting on the bed in Cathy's room. She'd tried to leave the lunch party several times already but Cathy was having none of it until they'd managed to speak.

`So, what's up?' Emily asked. `What's this dinner you're going to?'

Cathy sighed deeply. `That was just to shut Lavinia up. There's no dinner.' She looked down at her hands which were clasped on her lap. `Emily, I'm bored out of my tree,' she admitted finally. `I love Arthur and Annabelle to bits but I'm going nuts. I spend my time looking for things to do and I'm sick to the teeth of shopping and bloody Tiny Tots. I feel like I'm losing my personality. I need your help.'

`Right.' Emily was taken aback. She hadn't expected this.

`I want to retrain as a baby masseuse. Do you think I'm crazy?'

`Is there such a thing?'

Cathy nodded eagerly. `I loved massage in beauty college; I was pretty good at it too. I used to practice on you, remember?'

Emily had a vague recollection of having her back rolled and pummelled by an over eager Cathy many years ago. `Yes, I think so.'

`There's a course in Rathmines, three evenings a week for six months, and then you can start your own classes. There's a huge demand for baby massage, apparently. I've talked to three different health nurses and my GP and they are all really positive about the effects on a crying baby and . . .' Cathy bubbled on about the benefits of baby massage while Emily tried to look interested. Cathy hadn't been this animated about anything for a long time, not since the first charity ball she'd organised in the RDS.

`Sounds fascinating,' Emily interrupted her. `But what does Arthur think?'

`He loves being messaged and he thinks Mummy should . . .'

`Arthur senior, your husband,' Emily said.

Cathy blushed. `I haven't actually told him yet. But he might not be too keen on the whole idea. He wants to have another baby.'

`Does he now?' Emily raised her eyebrows. `That would certainly be a miracle of modern science.'

`You know what I mean.' Cathy sighed. `I just want to do something for myself, Emily. Earn my own money. Spend some time on my own again. I might like to have another baby sometime in the future, but not right now. At the moment I feel like I'm just Arthur's wife and the kids' mother. I want to be me.'

`Toyah Wilcox,' Emily smiled, `remember her?'

`With the orange hair?'

`Correct.' Emily sang a few bars of the song.

Cathy winced. `Never could sing, could you?'

Emily elbowed her. `Thanks. So what are you going to do about the baby massage? Are you going to take the course?'

Cathy shrugged. `I'm not sure. What do you think?'

`Talk to Arthur. Explain how you feel. You might be surprised. He's a reasonable man and he adores you. He might surprise you.'

`When exactly?' Cathy asked. `He's always working. I'm in bed before he comes in most evenings and the weekends are spent doing boring house things.'

`Why don't you go away for a weekend together without the kids?'

`I wish.' Cathy sighed. `Who'd mind them? Mum can't cope with them for more than a few hours and Arthur's parents are up north.'

Emily thought for a moment. `I'll do it,' she suggested. `I'll move into the house for the weekend and look after them. How about next weekend? No time like the present and all that.'

`I can't ask you to do that,' Cathy protested. `You have things to do. And what about Harry?'

`If it's ok by you, he could stay here too. He gets on great with the kids and we'd both enjoy a weekend in the country.'

`Hardly the country,' Cathy snorted.

`It is to us,' Emily smiled. `Compared to Donnybrook, it's the sticks.'

`Are you serious about next weekend?' Cathy asked. `Because I could book somewhere and surprise Arthur. He's not as busy as usual at the moment and if I found somewhere with a spa and a good restaurant I know he'd be delighted. He's not usually a man for surprises, but a weekend in a hotel without the kids,' Cathy grinned, `now that would be the best surprise he's had in a long time.'

`Go ahead and book,' Emily said. `I'll check with Harry, but I'm sure he won't mind one little bit.'

Cathy threw her arms around Emily and gave her an almighty hug. `I can't thank you enough.'

`It's only one weekend,' Emily smiled. She was delighted to be able to help and in a funny way she was quite looking forward to it.

 

After Cathy had gone back downstairs, Emily was waiting in the upstairs hall to use the toilet when she heard light footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Lavinia's little girl, Eliza.

`Are you all right, Eliza?' Emily asked kindly. `Looking for your mummy?'

Ellie looked up at her with her cornflower blue eyes. She was a startlingly attractive child. `She's in there with Millie,' Eliza said, pointing at the door of Annabelle's bedroom. `She said not to go in.' Eliza was jigging up and down and clutching her white muslin dress in front of her stomach.

`Do you need to use the toilet?'

Eliza nodded.

Just then the toilet door opened. Pamela bustled out. `Sorry, guys. It's all yours.'

`Thanks. Eliza, do you need any help?' Eliza ran past them and closed the door behind her with a slam.

`Obviously not,' Pamela laughed. `See you downstairs. And don't let Millie and Lavinia get to you. They can be terribly catty at times, just ignore them.'

`I will. Thanks.'

As Pamela walked down the stairs, Emily wondered what Millie and Lavinia were doing in Annabelle's bedroom. It was a little strange. Curiosity got the better of her and she tiptoed towards the door, put her ear against it and strained to listen. Nothing. If they weren't talking what were they doing? Maybe Eliza had got it wrong and they were actually downstairs or in the garden.

Eliza opened the bathroom door and stared at Emily, who had jumped back from the door where she'd been eavesdropping. `Can I go in there?' Eliza asked. `I'm bored. There's no nice toys in this house, only baby toys. I want my Barbies. And the food is yuck.'

`I don't see why not,' Emily said and smiled encouragingly at the rude little girl. `Go ahead.'

Eliza pulled on the door handle and pushed the door wide open.

Emily couldn't believe her eyes. Lavinia and Millie were entwined in a passionate embrace, lips locked together.

`Mummy,' Eliza said running towards her.

Millie and Lavinia jumped apart, Millie's pale face blushing furiously and Lavinia looking equally flustered.

`Um, what are you doing in here, Eliza?' Lavinia demanded. `I told you to stay downstairs. Mummy's busy.'

`Why were you kissing Millie, Mummy?' Eliza asked nonplussed.

`I was just making her better,' Lavinia said quickly. `Now go back downstairs and I'll be down in a minute, OK?'

`Can I have some crisps?' Eliza asked shrewdly. `There are crisps on the grown-ups table. And biscuits.'

`Have whatever you like,' Lavinia snapped. `Just go downstairs.'

Eliza ran off happily.

Emily stood looking at the two women, a smile playing on her lips. `Well, well,' she said finally. `Who would have thought?'

`You won't tell anyone?' Millie asked anxiously. `It was only a silly little experiment. Nothing serious.'

Lavinia glared at Millie.

`Well, it was, wasn't it?' Millie asked. Lavinia stormed past them both and down the stairs.

`Looks like you've upset your girlfriend,' Emily said, trying to suppress a gleeful giggle.

`Don't call her that,' Millie insisted. `Please don't say anything to anyone, Emily. Please?'

Emily thought for a moment. `I might, then again I might not. It depends.'

`Please,' Millie begged again. `I'll do anything. Please . . .'

 

`Anita, you'll never guess what happened at Cathy's lunch,' Emily said that evening. She sat back in the sofa and wound the telephone wire around her fingers.

`What? Did her brand new Designer's Guild curtains fall down? Or did one of her Louise Kennedy glasses break?'

`Anita!'

`Sorry, I shouldn't be so catty. She's just so perfect, it makes me spit.'

`Actually Cathy's about to start a baby massage course. She's bored at home, she wants to do something for herself. She's going to take a course in town and then set up her own class for mothers in the Wicklow area. To be honest, I think she needs to get some of her old self-confidence back. I think she feels a little faceless at the moment.'

`Really? She always seemed very happy with her lot to me.'

`Appearances can be deceptive,' Emily said. `Money isn't everything you know.'

`I suppose not. Listen, tell Cathy I hope her course goes well and if she needs any help later on with publicising her class . . .'

`Do you really mean that?'

`Sure. Why not? She's your friend after all, so she can't be all bad. I didn't realise she was unhappy. It just goes to show - you never know what goes on behind closed doors.'

`You have a good heart, Anita.' Emily smiled. She was lucky to have them both as friends. And maybe Cathy and Anita would finally start to get along. Stranger things had happened and it would certainly make her life a whole lot easier. `Speaking of closed doors,' Emily said, `wait till I tell you. But you have to promise to keep it a secret, OK?'

`Sounds interesting.'

`Interesting is an understatement, Anita. It's dynamite!'

 

Kitty looked up at Emily over her trendy red half-moon glasses. `Emily, we'd like to offer you the staff job at Ruby if you're interested. You have a good solid CV and you're not afraid to go after the big stories. We were most impressed with the Rex O'Hara interview,' she added. `Most impressed. How did you wangle that? He only gave one other interview to the Irish press and that was to The Irish Times.'

`Contacts,' Emily smiled, not giving anything away. She said nothing about the spoilt little girl called Eliza.