What in the name of sweet, gentle, divine and suffering Jesus did I look like?
A life-sized Zapf doll mixed with a half-melted Dolly Parton waxwork model.
‘Keelin, you said these things were going to boost my confidence,’ I whimpered, my bottom lip quivering again, ‘so why do I feel like going outside, lying on the road and waiting for an articulated lorry to come and end this misery?’
‘Izzy, for God’s sake, you’re such a drama queen. They’re only a pair of Spanx,’ she huffed, as she and Susie continued to hoist the horrific tube of flesh-coloured elastic up my body.
‘But why would you do this to me?’ I wailed. ‘Have I not suffered enough?’ I watched my refl ection in the full-length mirror as the two traitors on either side of me continued to make me despise myself even more than I already did. Every upwards whoosh lifted my feet a few inches off the floor, and every time I thudded down my shoulders slumped even further.
‘Izzy, you really aren’t making this easy. Do you want us to put you in a back brace as well?’
‘Oh, why not go right ahead, Susie? Then I’ll be just about ready for the hair shirt and orthopaedic shoes you’ve lined up for me.’
‘We’re trying to help you here, Iz.’
‘Then why exactly have you shoved me into a horrific, flesheating,’ I twanged at the thick elastic digging into my thighs, ‘tit-deforming, ass-annihilating body condom? Is this some sort of last humiliation I have to suffer before I become –’
‘A martyr? Yes, that’s right, Izzy. Now, arms up!’
‘I hate you both.’
‘Up! ’
They slid something over my head, which I figured was most likely the hair shirt. But as I slowly prised open my eyes in terrified anticipation of the next bout of enforced dressing, I realized how badly I’d misjudged the situation.
‘Oooh,’ I cooed. I watched the silky material fall gracefully to my knees, and I knew that this was no hair shirt. Oh, no. This was my gorgeous new sparkly gold dress.
The dress.
As in, the one I’d bought especially for tonight. The same one I’d thrown out of my bedroom window when I got home after trying it on in front of my full-length
mirror. I seem to recall it had something to do with being a fat, violently unattractive pathetic lump, or something along those lines. Anyway, that didn’t matter now. Not when it looked like this. Not when I looked like this.
If I hadn’t hated myself quite so much as I did at that moment, I might even have gone so far as to say I looked human. And not a fat-violently-unattractive-pathetic-lump human – oh, no. A passable human with a lovely cinched-in waist, pert boobs and tight arse.
My! My! My!
I flitted from left to right in front of the mirror, grinning inanely. ‘Where would I be without you guys?’
‘Lipstick?’
‘Yep!’
‘Perfume?’
I squirted some more on to my wrists. ‘Check!’ Ow! That was stinging now. I must remember that I didn’t have to spray myself with perfume or go again with the lipstick every time Keelin ran through the checklist.
‘Don’t forget your kohl eyeliner,’ Susie warned, as she whizzed past me to get her coat.
Kohl eyeliner. Check. Eyeliner sharpener. Check. Bronzer. Rouge. Pen thingy to make under my eyes look less knackered. Check. Mascara: one lengthening, one thickening. Hairclips: one grippy, one knotty. Serum. Comb. Check. Check. Check.
Okay, one last quick look to make sure I hadn’t slathered my fake tan on in cement-like mounds in the manner of an over-enthusiastic bricklayer. Damn, not so pretty workmanship around the ankles. Hmm. How long would it take to buff down about three layers of skin with an exfoliating loofah? Oh, bollocks to that! If men were looking at my ankles when I was wearing this dress, my troubles ran far deeper than I’d thought.
Front-door key.
Check.
Mobile phone.
Ciggies.
Charger in case phone dies.
Spare battery in case charger gets lost.
Spare sim card in case the spare battery freakishly turns out to be ‘not charged’. Although charging it for around thirty-six hours ought to have done the trick.
I know this all sounded highly neurotic, but everything just had to go like clockwork. I’d been planning this for days, and far too much was at stake for anything to go wrong. I wanted my life back. I wanted it back!
Okay. Breathe.
Maybe, maybe, I was just about ready.
Shit. I couldn’t close my bag.
Why the hell not? It wasn’t like I’d thrown in any nonessentials, for crying out loud. Basics was all. Basics! For the love of God, could someone out there not design a bag to accommodate the measly basics of a woman’s night out? Please? In the form of, say, an incredibly cute clutch? Was I really asking too much?
Fine. I suppose I could leave the curling iron and the hair straightener at home.
‘Back in one, Izzy!’
‘But – but it’s in a pint glass.’
‘Back. In. One.’
Christ, they were animals.
I necked it and grabbed my coat.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ I squeaked.
‘I said, are you ready?’ Keelin repeated, like a sergeant major on speed.
I gulped. The alcohol burnt the back of my throat.
‘Ready!’
‘Okay, let’s do this!’ Susie shouted, and bustled us out.
‘Wait! Stop! For the love of God, stop!’ I yelled, wedging my foot in the front door. ‘I can’t do this!’
‘Izzy? Whaaaaat? ’
‘You don’t understand –’
‘Izzy, you have got to be kidding! I swear to God above . . .’
‘Not like this!’
‘Izzy, you’re doing great. You’re nearly there.’
‘I’ve forgotten my eyebrow brush! ’ I half screamed, silencing them both. They blinked back at me.
I think they’d grasped the seriousness of the situation. I was one eyebrow brush away from complete and utter hysteria. This required sensitivity, the compassion of a loyal friend.
‘Isobel Keegan, do you know that you’re a fucking mentaller?’
I looked around the nightclub, searching.
Was he here?
He was here somewhere. He had to be.
I couldn’t see him.
My stomach churned and my head spun with anticipation.
Of course, there was a fair chance the spinning was down to my having necked that pint of vodka and tonic. And now Susie was cranking open my jaw and pouring a baby Guinness down my throat. She pushed my chin up, allowing me to close my mouth.‘Get that down you.’
‘I think I may have had enough,’ I slurred.
‘Nonsense!’ she said briskly, prising my lips open with two fingers. Even though my teeth were clenched, the Sambuca still managed to fi lter through and slide down my gullet.
‘What if he doesn’t come?’ I felt like crying at the thought.
‘Oh, he will,’ Susie replied. ‘He’s a predictable wanker, I’ll give him that.’
She was right. That was Cian. Predictable to the core. Predictable in all the wrong ways, unfortunately. Like being tactless. And stubborn and insensitive. Not to mention thoughtlessly cruel.
So why was I there? Same old, same old. For every reason I had to hate him, there seemed a million more why I couldn’t shake loving him. For one, he’d been part of my life every day for the past three years. And he was Cian. My first and only love.
Had been. Had been a part of my life. It still didn’t seem real. It felt like some awful half-dream that was slowly sucking the air out of my world. And I was stuck right in the middle of it, not knowing what to do, or where to go, or even how it had happened. And no matter how much it hurt or how much I cried, no one was coming to wake me up.
‘Holy shit! He’s just arrived!’ hissed Keelin, as if she’d witnessed the second coming of Christ.
Uh-oh. He was here!
I wanted to puke. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run and hide behind the DJ box and curl up in the foetal position and call my mum.
But if I did that, then it would pretty much definitely be over between us. I’m not exactly sure how much more ‘definite’ I needed it to be, seeing as I’d found out he’d been having sex with another woman and all. But, you know, I still wasn’t really getting it as such, so perhaps a little more clarity on that front might help to clear things up for me.
Anyway, I couldn’t fail tonight’s mission – not after all the work the girls had put into getting me here. The mission was for Cian to see me so that he could realize what an awful mistake he’d made. Then he’d drop to his knees and beg me to take him back. I would play hard to get for a suitable length of time, then jump his bones and straddle him for all I was worth. Simple.