‘I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.’ Roo’s eyes are sparkling as she fastens the buckles on her silver platform shoes, and it’s not only because of her glittery eyeliner. ‘The last time I went out on a first date was four years ago. And that was watching Justin’s friend’s band in a pub in the North Strand, not drinking cocktails in a fancy bar.’
‘This is definitely an upgrade,’ I say. ‘In every sense.’
Roo’s phone beeps with an alert from the taxi app and I follow her down to the hall where she puts on her coat.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘This is it. Oh God, what if his photo is twenty years old? What if he’s a creep? What if I, oh, I dunno, what if I spill a drink all over him or—?’
‘Stop this!’ I say. ‘You’re sounding like me. You’re going to drink a fancy cocktail. You’re going to hang out with a cute theatre guy. He’ll be lovely. And you know what we’ll do if he’s not?’
‘Curse him?’ says Roo.
‘Curse him,’ I say. ‘Oh, and I’ll also send you a text at eight so you have an excuse to escape.’
After I wave Roo off I get back to my script. I’ve just sat down at my desk when I get a text from my friend Sinéad.
Annie McDermott, this is ridiculous. You’ve been home three whole weeks and we haven’t seen each other! We need to do something about this ASAP.
After Roo, Sinéad was the friend I missed most when I moved to England. We’d met in my first week of college, when I was still all prickly (but not like a hedgehog), not knowing what to do with myself without Roo by my side. I had hoped college would be a fresh start, but I worried that maybe it wouldn’t be. Maybe my whole life was going to be like school. I was hunched down in my seat in a lecture theatre, wearing a black sixties dress with a white lace collar that I’d borrowed from Laura and never returned. And then Sinéad, with her pink-tipped black hair and black-and-white striped T-shirt, sat next to me.
‘Oh my God,’ she said, ‘Iloveyour dress!’
And I realised college wasn’t going to be like school at all.
Now I reply to her text and suggest going out on Saturday but Sinéad isn’t free.
‘It’s my mother-in-law’s birthday so I’ll be in their giant gaff in Monkstown all day,’ she texts. ‘Defending all my life choices. And showing off my lovely baby, the only thing in my life they approve of. How about Friday week?’
By next Friday my final draft will be in. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than dinner with Sinéad.
‘Excellent,’ she replies. ‘See you then. Unless I’m in jail for murdering Harry’s mum. Is Roo still witchy? I don’t suppose she does curses or voodoo dolls?’
At eight o’clock, as promised, I text Roo and get an ‘All good, going for food’ message in response, which bodes well. So when I hear the door open at half ten, I immediately stick my head out of my room. I don’t want to rush out in case Roo isn’t alone.
But she is.
‘Hey.’ She doesn’t look or sound like someone who’s floating on air after a dreamy first date.
‘How did it go?’ I say. ‘Tell me everything!’
‘He was nice,’ says Roo, without great enthusiasm.
‘Nice is good.’ I follow her into the sitting room and we sit on the couch. ‘Isn’t it? Did he look like his photo?’
‘He did,’ says Roo.
‘But …?’
‘It was all grand at the start,’ says Roo. ‘You know, he was smart and friendly and I didn’tnotfancy him, so when he suggested grabbing some food I thoughtsure, why not.’ She sighs. ‘And then … then I discovered he’s a clown.’
My heart sinks, just a tiny bit. It’s not like I thought Roo was necessarily going to meet the love of her life tonight, but I’d hoped for a better verdict than ‘clown’.
‘Oh, Roo, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘In what way?’
‘I mean he’s literally a clown,’ says Roo.
‘What do you mean?’ I say. ‘I thought he worked in the theatre.’
‘He is,’ says Roo. ‘But he went to clown college.’ She looks at me. ‘Donotmake a joke about Trinity right now.’