‘Will you be able to manage the shop for a few hours, Dolly?’ Lara asked.

Dolly was Lara’s full-time shop assistant. She had worked in a couple of other boutiques along the Kings Road and was reliable enough, but would only be there until the end of that week as she was heading off to New York. A friend of a friend of hers knew Warhol and said he could get her some modelling work. It was, Lara thought, a silly, pie-in-the-sky idea. Although part of her was envious of Dolly’s impulsiveness. In the past few months Lara discovered that the creativity involved in designing and making clothes was the smaller part of her job. Her day-to-day was largely taken up with managing young staff and endless paperwork, neither of which she was good at or particularly enjoyed.

Dolly looked up from the counter where she seemed to be permanently planted.

‘And please stop painting your nails, Dolly. I don’t want you getting varnish on the clothes.’

Dolly said, ‘OK, boss,’ pouting sulkily. She couldn’t wait to get out of there and over to the laid back, woozy lifestyle waiting for her in Manhattan. Lara was cool but, man, she could be so uptight. Weren’t the Irish meant to be all drink and parties?

Lara was a bit worried about leaving Dolly in charge, but the lunchtime rush was over and, between stocktaking and selling, she had barely been out of the shop in the past three days. She was itching to do something creative, even if it was just playing a small part in the shoot with Alex and Annie. She put a couple of jackets and accessories in a That Girl bag and grabbed a black cab, which took her to the Lancaster Gate entrance to the park.

It was nearly three o’clock, but they would hardly be getting started. They had probably moved on from their original meeting place. In fact, knowing Alex’s roving eye, they could be anywhere in the park by now, so Lara wandered in the direction of the Peter Pan statue keeping her eyes peeled. All around her were people enjoying the sunshine. A young couple sitting on the grass, feeding each other crackers. A gang of four youths leaning on the railings, smoking cigarettes – too old for school, too young for the pub. An old-fashioned nanny in her smart uniform pushing a pram, a young mother with her two children running in front of her, chasing a ball, and two old men sitting side by side on a bench, watching the world go by. One of them was smoking a pipe while the other raised his hat as she passed and said, ‘Good afternoon, miss.’

She smiled back and said, ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen.’ The woody smell of pipe smoke reminded her of her father and Lara felt a pang for home. London was not just for the fashionable and the frantic. All life was here. She just never got to see it.

A few feet away to her left, she heard a voice.

‘Damn this is heavy.’

A familiar face appeared from behind a hedge. Alex was lugging a huge camera bag and muttering to himself, ‘No chance of getting a hand here I suppose.’ Then, when he saw her, ‘Hey Lara, grab this for me?’

‘Are you finished already?’

‘Sorry, you’re too late, love. But wow – we got some great shots.’

‘Aw,’ she said, holding up her own bag. ‘I brought gear. Are you sure you’re all done?’

‘Oh trust me. We are all wrapped up – in more ways than one.’ He nodded behind the hedge. ‘Annie’s got herself a bloke.’

‘NO!’ Lara said in a loud whisper. ‘I don’t believe it!’ and she stuck her head round the edge of the hedge. Sure enough, Annie was in a clinch with a big strong man. Lara came back quickly, before they saw her. She was not sure if ingénue Annie had even ever been kissed before. Lara was so excited for her. And dying of curiosity to see this mystery man.

‘Give me that,’ she said, and dragged Alex’s heavy metal camera case over to the side of the hedge. Before he could object, she was standing on it, on tip toes, looking over at the couple, unseen.

‘Bloody nosy Irishwoman,’ Alex said.

‘I just want to get a right look at HIM,’ she said. ‘The mystery man.’

‘Ordinary looking bloke,’ Alex said.

‘Gah,’ Lara complained, ‘turn around.’

‘You’re worse than my mother.’

‘I didn’t know you were Irish.’

‘Jewish. But when it comes to interfering mothers it’s the same thing.’

The couple were lost in each other, kissing in a messy, untrammelled way that made Lara begin to regret her intrusion. She was about to come back down when something held her there. Curiosity was joined by a slight familiarity. Like the answer to a question you didn’t know you had asked. The man took Annie’s face in his hands and turned slightly to the side. Lara craned her head and fully saw him.

Before she registered him, his name, she registered the expression in his eyes as he looked down onto Annie’s beautiful face.

Love.

The soft, pleading, passionate, uncompromising, desperate certainty of true love. The thing she had craved, sought in all their years together, and never seen.

If he had loved her like that, she would have loved him back.

If he had loved her like that…

Lara toppled on the box and Alex caught her.

‘Whoops,’ he said, ‘did you get a good look?’

‘Good enough.’ She got down from the box and said, without a hint of good humour, ‘I’m going to head back.’

God, women were moody. As much as he worked with them, and loved (some) of them, Alex thought he would never understand them.

‘You sure you don’t want to hang on and interview him, he seems like a reasonable enough bloke.’

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I have to get back to the shop.’

As she walked briskly towards the gate, Alex thought he saw her break into a run.

She left her clothes behind too. Another thing for him to carry. Or perhaps Annie’s boyfriend would give him a hand.

In the end, the couple were so engrossed he left them to it and carried his bags back to the car himself.

As he was loading in the last one he became aware of a figure loitering near the gate, as if waiting for someone. He would not have noticed him except for a sense that he might have seen him somewhere before. When he turned to check, the man was gone and Alex slammed down his boot. The clouds were gathering and the roof was down, so he pegged it back to Fulham before the rain came.

❊

Lara did not know what to do with herself. She needed a drink but did not want to go and sit in a strange pub in London, alone. So she flagged down a taxi and went straight to Chevrons. Lara needed to be with somebody she trusted. Somebody who knew her. Suddenly, nothing else mattered more than that.

She walked down the stairs, swept past Arthur and straight up to the bar.

‘I need a drink,’ she said to Noreen.

As Noreen opened her mouth to ask what she wanted Lara said, ‘Something strong and something fast.’

Noreen poured her a straight whisky and put a bottle of ginger ale next to it.

Laura knocked it back, slammed the glass down on the bar, said, ‘Again,’ and knocked that back too.

Noreen didn’t want to ask what was wrong. She was surprised, but pleased that whatever was wrong Lara was bringing it to her.

Lara nodded at her empty glass and said, ‘Three more. One for me, one for the ginger ale bottle and Noreen – I think you’re going to need one too.’

‘Why? What happened?’

Noreen could not imagine what had happened to bring Lara to her door like this, but whatever it was she was glad to have her back.

‘Annie is seeing Matthew.’

Noreen was measuring out two whiskies and, almost, spilt a drop. She thought she must have misheard.

‘When you say seeing you mean…’

‘Seeing. Going out. Making love to.’

‘Annie?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Matthew?’

‘Yes.’

‘My brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘The priest?’

‘Jesus J Christ, Noreen – yes! I saw them,’ her voice lowered to a whisper, ‘kissing.’ She threw down the third whisky.

Lara looked over at Noreen. Her face was defiant and the whisky glint was beginning to enter her eyes but Noreen could see a thread of anger and hurt burning there.

‘Matthew never looked at me the way he looked at her.’

Then Lara began to cry. Noreen felt terrible for her.

‘It’s not even like I want him back, Noreen. Of course I love him, like I love you.’ She reached her hand across and Noreen took it. Lara never told her she loved her before. Lara was quite drunk now but, still, Noreen felt curiously delighted.

‘It’s just, well, seeing him so obviously in love with somebody else like that when it was what I wanted for such a long time.’

‘I’ll kill him,’ said Noreen. ‘And then I’ll kill her.’

‘No, no, no, Noreen,’ Lara shook her head. ‘If you had only seen them. They were so in love.’

‘Nonsense,’ Noreen said. ‘I’ll make mincemeat of the pair of them so I will, for hurting you like this.’

Noreen could not imagine how she would feel if John fell in love with somebody else. Certainly, if she caught him kissing anybody else, ever, she would shoot him on the spot and as for the strap that got him…

‘If John did that I’d—’

‘But you and John broke up didn’t you?’

Lara was not being mean. She said it quite matter-of-factly but Noreen felt it like a blow to the head.

John could go with anyone he liked now. He had sometimes threatened her with it as a joke when they were together.

‘If you don’t hurry up and marry me some girl might get her claws into me.’

‘Sure who’d have you?’ Noreen would quip back.

She looked around the club at Chevrons’ clientele. Rough gangsters with their cauliflower ears, their flat heads and their bent noses. No need for one of them to go home alone tonight.

John could be one of them. He could get snapped up and carried away from her.

It was one thing sending him away, but the possibility of never getting him back was quite another. Noreen did not want to think about it, so she pushed the thought aside and concentrated on comforting Lara on her romantic misfortune.

They moved into a booth and floor girls picked up the slack to allow Noreen and Lara to chat. Coleman had been in but locked himself in his office when he saw Lara was there for the night. Lara was smarting about the other man in her life and felt curiously triumphant in not caring about Coleman. She had enough whisky in her not to care. When they ran out of man-talk, Lara and Noreen talked about other things, the shop, the club and everyday gossip that the hiatus in their friendship had missed.

‘Who’s he?’ Lara asked after Noreen had given Handsome a telling off for interrupting them with a stupid question about where to get more lemons.

‘The worst barman in the world,’ Noreen said.

‘Handsome though. I could use a good-looking guy in the shop. I’m selling menswear from next week.’

‘You can have him.’

‘Will he mind?’

‘He’ll be told. Anyway. He’s always out the back, preening. He’ll love it.’

As the two ‘Irish’ talked and laughed and cried, the floor girls brought them drinks and peanuts, delighted to see their formidable boss Noreen and hardworking hostess Lara let their hair down for a change.

It was closing time when they left. ‘I’m kicking myself out!’ Noreen said, staggering up the stairs with Lara all but crawling behind her.

Noreen was more sober than Lara and put her to bed, then she sat up and waited for Annie to get in. She was going to give her some piece of her mind. That girl was so much trouble. There was something just wrong about Annie; Noreen could feel it even though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

And now, this business of her seducing Matthew was more of the same. She must be the girl that Matthew was planning to leave the priesthood for. So now he was turning his life upside down for her. How had Annie even met Matthew?

Had she stalked him? Gone looking for him to cause trouble? Through the fog of whisky Noreen vaguely wondered if she had ever even mentioned Matthew’s name in front of Annie. Come to think of it, had Lara even told Annie that her beau left her to become a priest? The thought occurred to her that Matthew may have called to their flat looking for Noreen that day he called into the club, or afterwards, to apologise for being such a clot. Annie might have opened the door and he could have simply fallen in love with her. Annie had the kind of looks that men fell for at first sight, and her brother was exactly the sort of impressionable eejit that could happen to. If that was the case, she thought, all of this could be her fault. A sobering thought. She swigged back the last of the Blue Nun and reminded herself that, regardless, sneaking about with a man behind your flatmate’s back was highly suspicious. Noreen didn’t know why Lara was as forgiving and protecting of Annie as she was. Perhaps if Lara knew about the bloody apron and the jewellery in the suitcase she would change her tune. But telling her about that would mean Noreen admitting that she had been snooping around Annie’s things. Even though they were friends again, she wasn’t sure that Lara would understand. John certainly hadn’t.

John. If only he were here. He would know what to do. He would certainly have something to say about Annie going out with Matthew. She tried to imagine what that something might be and realised he would probably just say mind your own business. She wouldn’t listen to him, of course, but she never minded John saying those things to her in the way she minded other people bossing her about. She wished he was there to tell her off. She missed him.

Matthew never looked at me the way he looked at her, Lara had said.

John looked at her that way all the time, with that soft, do-anything-for-you look in his eyes. Noreen had never appreciated it before. She liked it, but she always brushed it off. Big strong man going all lovey-dovey – what use was that to a girl? Now that she didn’t have it, Noreen knew it was everything. Lara said it was rare, and it was.

Noreen desperately wanted John back.

But was his love worth giving up her freedom for? She thought not and yet this freedom business was proving not to be everything it was cracked up to be. She was essentially doing the same thing she had done at home: working all the hours God sent in a bar. She had a bit of gossipy craic with the gangsters but she had as much craic at home with the three Marys. And as for sex? It turned out it was a lot easier to come by in Carney than it was in London, once you knew where to look – which she did.

A sad feeling washed over Noreen. She knew, without doubt, that she still didn’t want to marry John. She wasn’t being awkward or rebellious. Marriage just didn’t feel as if it was her. However, sitting here in the flat, she knew that she could not envisage a life without him. She had to go and find him and get him back. If that meant marrying him then she would have to do that too.

She drained her glass and decided not to bother waiting up for Annie. She wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. Noreen took off her uniform, went into Lara’s room and crawled into bed beside her. The two of them breathed in tandem as they slept. In the early hours, Noreen’s left arm threw itself clumsily over Lara’s waist, anchoring her on her side. In her sleep, Lara reached across her breast and took her friend’s hand. She smiled and dreamt she was loved.