Don’t You Forget About Me(71)

‘Mum,’ I say, forcing myself to concentrate, ‘Did you tell Robin where I was working at the moment? At The Wicker?’

‘Oh … I think it came up? Yes, yes it did, as we were discussing Geoff’s idea of making his offer to you. And you might be interested to hear that Robin think it’s fantastic too.’

Mum says this with a ‘ta-dah!’ rabbit out of the hat flourish. How could she not see they were being played? Whose personality turns 180 degrees like that? I could be sick. I make hasty excuses about being at work, when there’s five minutes left to the route, to churn on everything she’s said.

Oh, Lucas. You’re wise. Robin is malign. And, unless I make him, I don’t think he’s going to stop.

I’m in dire need of comic relief and The Wicker considerately supplies.

‘Steady as she blows!’ Devlin says as I dump my stuff behind the bar, as two men, knees bent, huffing and wheezing, drop a multicoloured Wurlitzer jukebox by the fireplace.

‘Where’s that on its way to?’ Lucas says, staring.

Dev slaps its flank and beams like a new father. ‘Isn’t she special?’

‘It is not gendered and no, it’s fucking hideous. What’s it for?’

Kitty and I exchange a ‘here we go’ delighted glance. McCarthy brother bickering is a constant.

‘Music!’

‘What next, a Sky Sports big screen?’ Lucas said. ‘Ugh. It means an endless soundtrack of Metallica and Girls Aloud.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

‘Absolutely no way, Dev. Call them back to take it away. God almighty we’ve got “traditional” and “craft ale” everywhere. Why not run a place with a plastic leprechaun outside and have done? Serve cocktails the colour of Care Bears?’

‘Do you ever think hospitality was the wrong fit for you?’

‘It’s called taste, Dev, get some.’ Lucas seems rattier than usual.

He exits with Keith in tow and Devlin huffs and Kitty and I laugh.

‘You wouldn’t think someone as lush as Lucas would be single, would you?’ Kitty says, once Dev’s upstairs clattering about in the event room and it’s the two of us.

‘Perhaps he’s not,’ I say, mildly, sipping my water.

‘He is, his wife died and he doesn’t have a girlfriend.’

Jeez, Devlin. ‘His brother said that?’

‘No, Lucas did. I asked him if he has anyone back in Dublin and he said no and I said oh you’re not married then or anything I thought you would be and he said well I was but she died. I said what of and he said of cancer. I said are you seeing anyone now and he said no.’

‘Maybe he’s not ready yet, after losing his wife like that.’

‘No he said it wasn’t that at all, he’s well ready but he’d not met anyone he was into and that he had a jawbone view of human nature and that most people only let you down.’

‘A jawbone view?’

‘A long word like that. Def began with J.’

‘Ja … jaundiced?’

‘Yeah! I thought that was when you turn yellow.’

‘It is.’

‘He thinks most people turn yellow?’

‘No.’ Running at two speeds, with one of those speeds being ‘Kitty,’ is hard work. I isolate what’s bothering me:

‘I never thought Lucas was that chatty.’ I feel slightly put out that he’s opening up to Kitty and not to me.

‘He isn’t ’cos after that I asked him what his type was and he said he’d rather not talk about his personal life thank you and did I think the barrel of Pale Rider was on the tilt.’

‘Ah.’

‘Don’t you think the tragic wife thing makes him even fitter though?’ Kitty says, nipping her straw between rabbity front teeth.

‘Hahaha, what?’

‘You know, knowing he’s sad. You want to perk him up with a bit of sex, don’t you.’

I almost spit my water.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Kitty says. ‘To be nice!’

‘Yeah but you don’t … people don’t say things like that,’ I say.

I wish I could simply find that funny.

What if she offers? What if he says yes? What if that happens with the next girl they hire? For the first time I contemplate Lucas sleeping with another member of staff and me having to hear lurid accounts of the boss from the night before and pretend to snigger along with it. I could tolerate the phone numbers on beer mats because they reliably hit a brick wall. But sooner or later, law of averages, when there’s women flying at him from all sides? Argh.

‘Here, Georgina,’ Devlin appears, lightly coated in dust from renovations, ‘Can you nip up to the flat and ask Lucas if the plumber’s coming at four? Just shout him as you go up the stairs.’

I nod and feel a small-child thrill at being allowed into Lucas’s lair, a new, private part of the building. The flat upstairs is a door on the left behind the bar, as opposed to the right hand one that takes you up to the function room.

I pad up the stairs and call, hesitantly:

‘Lucas? Lucas …?’

I can’t hear anything beyond so I rap on the open door at the top with my knuckles. Still nothing. I peer round.