‘You haven’t forgotten Francesca and Nadia are coming over today, have you?’ she says.
‘I had, actually,’ I admit. Nadia is another of Roo’s scarily glossy, cool PR friends.
‘Francesca’s launching a Japanese beauty brand and they suggested giving guests these gorgeous little sashiko embroidery kits at the launch next week,’ says Roo, ‘so we’re going to try them out.’
‘How very wholesome!’ I say.
‘Iamvery wholesome.’ Roo looks down at her black chiffon frock, beneath which an expensive black corset can clearly be seen. ‘Even if I don’t always look it.’
The doorbell rings. It’s a good twenty minutes before I was expecting Art to arrive.
‘I’ll get it!’ Before I can stop her, Roo’s rushed out into the hall.
Oh well. I knew she would never have let me slip away without her meeting Art, which is fair enough given how much she’s had to listen to me talking about him. But what if they really clash with each other? What if Art says something stupid about Roo’s job? Or her clothes? And what if Roo accidentally reveals how much she knows about Art? I don’t want him to know how much I’ve been talking about him.
Why do I care so much about all this?
The front door opens and I hear Art say, ‘Oh! Hi. Is Annie there?’
‘You must be Art,’ says Roo. ‘I’m Roo. Come in.’
A moment later there he is, in our kitchen.
‘Morning,’ he says.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Did I get the time wrong?’
‘Sorry, I’m very early,’ says Art apologetically. ‘I thought the traffic would be worse because there’s a match on in Croke Park today but I got here in, like, a minute.’
‘That’s grand,’ I say.
For once I can’t think of anything to say to him. This clash between our weird work bubble and my real life seems to have short-circuited my brain. Then Roo holds up the teapot and says, ‘There’s herbal tea if you want some. It’s one of my own tisanes.’
I know this isn’t a test – Roo doesn’t play games like that – but as far as I’m concerned it feels like a test.
‘That sounds great,’ says Art. ‘Thanks.’
As Roo pours the fragrant liquid into a mug, she and Art are clearly sussing each other out. Maybe if I hadn’t spent so much time with him over the last few weeks I’d think he was totally at ease, but I can sense a slight guardedness in his manner that makes me think he’s actually nervous. Does he actually care what my friend thinks of him? Or is he just worried the spooky tarot lady will put a curse on him?
Roo hands him the mug and as he takes in the full scent his expression changes. ‘Whoa. This smells amazing.’
‘It’s my Apfelstrudel tisane,’ says Roo. ‘It’s meant to make you feel more hopeful.’
I brace myself for a smart remark but Art takes a sip, smiles back at her and says, ‘Well, it’s certainly making me feel more cheerful.’
‘I’ll take that,’ says Roo. They look at each other in a friendly fashion and my shoulders relax a little.
‘So,’ says Art. ‘Annie told me you’re a tarot card reader?’
My shoulders tense up again.
‘I am.’ I know Roo’s bracing herself to hear something stupid. So am I.
‘How did you end up doing that?’ he says.
Okay, so far so polite.
‘I was doing a psychology postgrad and doing readings on theside,’ says Roo. ‘And then I realised I didn’t want to be a clinical psychologist after all.’