Aisling turned side on to peruse her shape in the mirror. So far, she’d avoided temptation and the dance lesson the other night on top of the stairs routine seemed to be yielding results she thought, smoothing her sweater and not seeing any lumps or bumps. She’d never be a waif but aside from the cling film on her head and circles under her eyes she was looking good.
With one last flick over her reflection she went back to the living room where Moira was waiting with a tube of something in her hand. ‘A face mask,’ she said, waving it. ‘It’ll work wonders.’
‘Is it your clay one?’ Aisling said, sitting down.
‘No, that’s expensive. This one will be grand.’
‘Charming, I get the bargain basement beauty treatment. Well, for your information, your whizz bang, pricey one gave me spots anyway.’
‘I don’t recall you asking me if you could use it,’ Moira said.
‘It was payback for pinching my Valentino sandals.’
‘Fair play.’ Moira was feeling magnanimous thanks to a very pleasant few hours whiled away with Tom that afternoon. She squeezed the gloopy green contents of the tube into the palm of her hand and told her sister to look up as she began to slather it all over her face. ‘You look a little like Shrek.’
Aisling closed her eyes, not bothered with making a rebuttal. It was nice to be pampered, especially because it meant she had to stop, sit and do nothing for a while. She flexed her feet, her big toe was still tender from where Quinn had trodden on it at their dance lesson. It had brought tears to her eyes, although she didn’t know if it was because of that or the fact he’d looked like he had something unpleasant in his pants as he’d minced toward her. She’d finally nailed the razzmatazz as Maria said her opening sequence of steps was called sometime after nine pm when she was nearly dead on her feet and at the same time Antonio had declared he was satisfied with Quinn’s tags, taps, kicks and flicks. They were dismissed with an all the best for the wedding by the South American couple who were keen to see the back of their two left footed students and lock up the studio for the night.
‘I’m done in,’ Quinn had said, and Aisling had told him they’d have to practice every day if they wanted the routine down pat for the wedding. Quinn had muttered something she thought might have been for fecks sake but she couldn’t be sure. She’d let it slide given his hang over.
‘There we are, all done,’ Moira said to her now, holding her green hands up. ‘I’ll go and wash these. That mask might feel a little tight and tingly but it’s nothing to worry about, alright?’ Aisling was about to open her mouth and reply but Moira held her green hand up once more, ‘Don’t speak, let it harden and do its thing.’
It was a chance to reflect on the day, Aisling thought, leaning her head back on the sofa as she mulled things over. The guesthouse had been busy with a group checking out first thing that morning in order to begin their tour around the Irish countryside. Bronagh, thankfully, was running on full throttle once more. The week had gotten off to a slow start for them after their big night out but Bronagh had been particularly pasty-faced on Monday morning. She’d told Moira she could forget it if she had any plans on making her do the stairs and also, she’d better not be thinking about getting married any time soon because she was not able for another hen night. Ita too had been very quiet and Aisling suspected from the length of time it took her to make up Room 3 she might have been having a sly forty winks in there.
She’d let it all waft over her head. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, well at least she didn’t think it was. She couldn’t be sure when it came to Ita and sure, they’d all had a grand night out together. The mask tightened and her skin began to feel hot beneath it and more than a little tingly. ‘Moira,’ she called out, feeling it crack around her mouth. ‘I’m going to wash this off, it’s burning.’
Moira appeared in the doorway. ‘It says on the tube you’re to leave it on for twenty minutes, it’s only been ten.’
‘Don’t care.’ Aisling pushed past her sister to the bathroom and splashed tepid water over her face before getting the nearest flannel and rubbing the stuff off.
‘Moira!’ she bellowed, looking in the mirror and seeing her face was a blotchy red mass as though she’d gotten the sunburn. ‘Get in here now.’
Moira peered around the bathroom door and winced seeing her sister. ‘Jaysus, Aisling, you look a fright. You don’t want to be going downstairs with your face like that, you’ll frighten the guests so you will.’
‘Fix it. This is your fault.’ Her voice was low and steely and Moira could tell she
