‘OK, I’m very sorry about the delay but I just made a phone call there. What’s your friend’s name?’
Holly froze; she hadn’t planned on this. Well, maybe she could just give her name and then get ‘her friend’ to call back and cancel if she changed her mind.
‘Em, her name is Holly Kennedy.’
‘OK, well, it’s actually a karaoke competition on Tuesday nights. It goes on for a month and every week two people out of ten are chosen till the last week of the month, where the six people sing again in the final.’
Holly gulped and felt butterflies in her tummy. She didn’t want to do this.
‘But unfortunately,’ he continued, ‘the names have all been entered a few months in advance so you can tell your friend that maybe she could try again at Christmas. That’s when the next competition is on.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘By the way, the name Holly Kennedy rings a bell. Would that be Declan Kennedy’s sister?’
‘Eh, yeah. Why, do you know her?’ asked a shocked Holly.
‘I wouldn’t say I know her I just met her briefly here the other night with her brother.’
Was Declan going around introducing girls as his sister? The sick and twisted little … No, that couldn’t be right.
‘Declan played a gig in Club Diva?’
‘No, no,’ the man laughed, ‘he played with his band downstairs in the basement.’
Holly quickly digested the information until the facts finally clicked in place.
‘Is Club Diva in Hogan’s?’
He laughed again. ‘Yeah, it’s on the top floor. Maybe I should advertise a bit more!’
‘Is that Daniel?’ Holly blurted out and then kicked herself for being so stupid.
‘Eh, yeah, do I know you?’
‘Em, no! No, you don’t! Holly just mentioned you in conversation, that’s all.’ Then she realised how that sounded. ‘Very briefly in conversation,’ she added. ‘She said you gave her a stool.’ Holly began hitting her head softly against the wall.
Daniel laughed again. ‘Oh, OK, well, tell her if she wants to sing in the karaoke at Christmas I can put her name down now for it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that want to sign up.’
‘Really?’ Holly said weakly. She felt like a fool.
‘Oh, by the way, who am I speaking to?’
Holly paced her bedroom floor. ‘Em, Sharon. You’re speaking to Sharon.’
‘OK, Sharon, well, I have your number on caller ID so I’ll call you if anyone backs out.’
‘OK, thanks a lot.’
And he hung up.
Holly leaped into bed, throwing the duvet over her head as she felt her face burn with embarrassment. She hid under the covers, cursing herself for being such a bimbo. Ignoring the phone ringing, she tried to convince herself she hadn’t been a complete idiot. Eventually, after she had persuaded herself she could show her face in public again (it took a long time) she crawled out of bed and hit the button on her answering machine. The electronic voice announced she had one message.
‘Hi, Sharon, I must have just missed you. It’s Daniel here from Club Diva,’ he paused and then, laughing, added, ‘in Hogan’s. Em, I was just looking through the list of names in the book and it seems somebody already entered Holly’s name a few months back. In fact it’s one of the first entries. Unless it’s another Holly Kennedy …’ he trailed off. ‘Anyway, call me back when you get a chance so we can sort it out. Thanks.’
Holly sat shocked on the edge of her bed, unable to move.
Chapter Twelve
Sharon, Denise and Holly sat by the window in Bewley’s café overlooking Grafton Street. They often met up there to watch the world go by. Sharon always said it was the best window shopping she could ever do as she had a bird’s-eye view of all her favourite stores.
‘I can’t believe Gerry organised all this!’ gasped Denise when she heard the news.
‘It’ll be a bit of fun, won’t it?’ Sharon said excitedly.
‘Oh God.’ Holly had butterflies in her stomach just at the thought of it. ‘I still really, really, really don’t want to do it but I feel I have to finish off what Gerry started.’
‘That’s the spirit, Hol!’ cheered Denise. ‘And we’ll all be there to cheer you on!’
‘Now hold on a minute, Denise,’ Holly said, dampening the celebratory tone, ‘I just want you and Sharon there, no one else. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this at all. Let’s keep it between us.’
‘But, Holly!’ Sharon protested. ‘It is a big deal! No one ever thought you’d do karaoke again after last time …’
‘Sharon!’ warned Holly. ‘One must not speak of such things. One is still scarred from that experience.’
‘Well, I think one is a daft cow for not getting over it,’ mumbled Sharon.
‘So when’s the big night?’ Denise changed the subject, sensing bad vibes.
‘Next Tuesday,’ Holly groaned, bending forward and banging her head playfully on the table repeatedly. The surrounding tables of customers stared at her curiously.
‘She’s just out for the day,’ Sharon announced to the room, pointing at Holly.
‘Don’t worry, Holly; that gives you seven days exactly to transform yourself into Mariah Carey. No problem at all,’ Denise said, smiling at Sharon.
‘Oh, please, we would have a better chance teaching Lennox Lewis how to do ballet,’ said Sharon.
Holly looked up from banging her head, ‘Well, thanks for the encouragement, Sharon.’
‘Ooh, but imagine Lennox Lewis in a pair of tights, that tight little arse dancing around …’ Denise said dreamily.
Holly and Sharon stopped growling at each other to stare at their friend.
‘You’ve lost the plot, Denise.’
‘What?’ Denise said defensively, snapping out of her fantasy. ‘Just imagine those big muscular thighs …’
‘That would snap your neck in two if you went near him,’ Sharon finished for her.
‘Now there’s a thought,’ Denise said, widening her eyes.
‘I can see it all now,’ Holly joined in, staring off into space. ‘The deaths column would read: “Denise Hennessey, tragically died after being crushed to death by the most tremendous thunder thighs after briefly catching a glimpse of heaven …”’
‘I like that,’ she agreed. ‘Ooh, and what a way to die! Give me a slice of that heaven!’
‘OK, you,’ Sharon interrupted, pointing her finger at Denise, ‘keep your sordid little fantasies to yourself, please. And you,’ she pointed at Holly, ‘stop trying to change the subject.’
‘Oh, you’re just jealous, Sharon, because your husband couldn’t snap a matchstick between his skinny little thighs,’ teased Denise.
‘Excuse me, but John’s thighs are perfectly fine. I just wish mine could be more like his,’ Sharon finished.
‘Now you,’ Denise pointed at Sharon, ‘keep your sordid little fantasies to yourself.’
‘Girls,