They laughed. Crusty was Steve’s fourteen-year-old dog who he’d taken in from a shelter four years ago. No one had known his name but he had looked crusty then and even after a wash, his appearance never altered very much. It was the perfect name. Despite getting on in years, Crusty always managed to find the energy to hump Glen’s leg, which had always disgusted Glen and probably caused him silently to question his sexuality along with everything else in life he over-analysed, such as what kind of a woman he had found himself living with after the Colin Maguire case.
‘So how long have you been together? Two months?’
‘Five.’
‘Five? Jesus, Steve, you might as well get married. I should buy a hat.’
‘Don’t. They give away your Spock ears.’
She laughed. ‘This is the Romanian girl?’
‘Croatian.’
‘Right. She’s a painter?’
‘Photographer.’
‘Right.’ She studied him.
‘What?’ he laughed self-consciously as though he was a twelve-year-old boy who’d just been caught with his first girlfriend.
‘Nothing.’
‘Come on.’
‘I don’t know, Steve,’ she cut into her meat, ‘you’ve changed. You no longer write about Victoria Beckham and you have a girlfriend. I think …’
‘You think what?’
‘I don’t know, I might be jumping the gun here, but I think there’s a possibility you might not be gay after all.’
A chip was hurled at her head.
Kitty spent the remainder of the meal eating as though she had a chip stuck in the back of her throat. Food wasn’t going down easily and she didn’t know why. She used to find comfort in the fact that Steve had an appalling job that he hated and refused to settle down. His realising that changes needed to be made in his life, and then making them, was upsetting. She simply didn’t want to be the only one with problems.
‘How is your new story going?’ he asked, finally filling the uncomfortable silence.
‘Oh,’ Kitty sighed, feeling drained by it already. ‘I don’t know. I met a very nice old lady tonight who told me about her very nice life and it’s all sounding very nice, but nothing …’ she scrunched her hands together, ‘nothing meaty, nothing juicy. I need to dig around in her cupboard for a few skeletons or something. Something that’s not so “very nice”. This is my chance to prove myself to so many people – probably my last chance – and whatever it was that Constance saw, I’m sure as hell not seeing it. It’s a little frustrating.’
Steve was quiet. She looked at him and his whole body had tensed up. His jaw had squared and he was looking at her as if he wanted to inflict physical pain on her.
‘Have you spoken to Colin Maguire yet?’
‘I will phone him right now if it stops you from saying whatever horrible thing is on the tip of your tongue.’
‘So it’s about you again,’ he snapped. ‘You apologising to him is all about you.’ His sudden change of mood took her by surprise.
‘I was joking, Steve, but go on, I see you’re in the mood to rip me to shreds again.’ Before he had the chance to do so, she dived in, ‘Just so you know, I am truly sorry about what happened to him.’
‘What happened to him? Something didn’t just happen to him, Kitty, you caused it, you actively caused it, not some random unexplained unlucky event that just happened.’
‘I know that! Okay, I phrased it wrong. I can’t win with you. Of course I know it’s my fault. I have a bloody conscience, you know. I will be sorry every single day for the rest of my life.’
‘After the fact,’ he said, confusing her. ‘You’re always sorry after you do something. You never think about how they feel or how you’d feel before. That’s what annoys me. You’ve learned nothing from the Colin Maguire situation. Here you are interviewing a nice little old lady and her nice little story is not enough for you. You always want more.’
Kitty was so shocked by his mood swing that her eyes stung with hot frustrated tears. She looked around and tried to focus on everything else around her to stop the tears from falling. Kitty didn’t cry easily but she was having an emotional time lately and she had never been so out of favour with Steve. His opinion was of high importance to her. She had heard her mother accuse her of everything under the sun since January but nothing – nothing – could affect her as much as one simple look of disappointment from Steve.
They finished their meal in silence, she paid the bill and they walked in silence to her flat.
‘I’ll make sure it’s safe,’ Steve said quietly, running up the stairs to check the area.
The door that led to the stairs up to her flat was always left open. As much as Kitty had pleaded with the landlords they couldn’t lock it as it was the shared door to the second internal door, which led to the dry-cleaners. This meant that at any time of the day anybody could walk up the stairs to her door.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, coming back down. ‘Stinks of shit, though.’
‘Thanks for coming over. I really appreciate it. Especially now that you have a girlfriend,’ she teased childishly, elbowing him.
‘She wants to meet you,’ he said, softening.
‘Yeah, cool, that would be great,’ she said over-enthusiastically, and it was obvious. ‘Well, I’d better get inside before somebody chucks a water balloon filled with vomit at my head. I’m glad you’re happy, Steve.’ She tried to make it sound jolly and genuine but all that she heard was her own voice saying, Your happiness makes me jealous and unhappy, Steve. I am a bitter and twisted human being.
She blocked her nose and mouth with her jacket as she ran up the steps to her flat and tried to convince herself that the unbearable stench was the reason for her crying.
‘Here we are in Arnotts, on their new personal shopping floor, and with me is top super shopper to the stars Eva Wu and author of the internationally renowned blog, “Dedicated”.’
Kitty stood to the side of the television camera along with Gaby, Eva’s PR girl, and watched, along with the dozen other shoppers who had gathered at the sight of the camera. The first thing the head cameraman on Thirty Minutes had taught her on her first day of filming was that the camera was an ‘asshole magnet’. As soon as you took it out in public it encouraged a plethora of ridiculous self-conscious behaviour from otherwise mostly normal people. Many of Kitty’s pieces to camera had been destroyed by idiots standing behind her in her shot waving at their mothers.
Kitty was at the department store on Henry Street in Dublin to interview Eva Wu. Unable to sleep after her second confrontation with Steve, she had spent much of the night reading up about Eva and her blog. Gaby had been more than keen on her coming here today as she had phoned Kitty three times already that morning. As Gaby was a rather pushy, loud-mouthed, fast-talking stereotypical PR girl who made things happen even when nature and the universe conspired against making them happen, Kitty imagined Eva to be quite the opposite. She wasn’t as loud as Gaby, and Kitty had to strain her ears to hear her voice. She appeared to be more reserved, quiet, but not shy.
Eva was being interviewed by one of the lead TV presenters of The Scoop, whose personal life was currently being played out on the front pages of the tabloid papers. The Scoop was a gossip and showbiz programme