‘Listen, you rinse the conditioner out of your hair in case we have to go to the emergency doctors, you don’t want to be sitting about in the waiting room with the cling film on your head.’
‘Moira!’
‘I’ll ring Mammy, see what she says.’ Moira scarpered. Aisling ran the shower and while she waited for the water to heat, she peered into the mirror. This was not good, her face felt hot and itchy. The last thing she needed was an allergic reaction. She stripped off and got in the shower rinsing off the thick conditioner.
She hoped her skin might have settled down once she got out of the shower but no, if anything the steamy water had made it worse. She got dressed and went in search of Moira.
‘Well?’
‘Mammy says you’re to use the E45 cream.’
Moira held out a tube of their mammy’s go-to fix it all cream she’d found tucked away in the first aid kit and Aisling slathered it on. It did feel better.
An hour later when her hair had dried and she was sitting in front of the tele with a greasy layer of E45 all over her face, Moira said, ‘At least your hair looks good. If you did a mammy and swished it about you could be on a shampoo commercial. So long as they only filmed you from the back.’
Aisling glared at her.
Her phone beeped a message before she could give her sister a mouthful and she saw it was from Quinn. A frown embedded itself between her eyebrows as she read the message.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Quinn. He’s after finding a house he wants us to go and look at tomorrow.’ There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of it.
‘You’re not moving out of here! I promise I’ll stop pinching your shoes and I’m sorry I used the cheap, green shite on your face.’ Moira was aghast at the thought of having to do the housework about the place or cooking her own meals.
‘You’ve promised me that before and you always break your word.’ Aisling rubbed her temples; her head was hurting. ‘But don’t worry I’m not going anywhere. The house thing is an investment. He’s got a bee in his bonnet that we need to get on the property ladder and rent out whatever we buy as a nest egg. Why he can’t wait until after the wedding I don’t know but he says here,’ she waved her phone, ‘it’s too good not to go and take a look.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘What if my face hasn’t settled down by tomorrow?’
‘Well, it might work in your favour, Ash. The estate agent might tell the people selling about your poor, red, spotty face and they might feel so sorry for you they lower the price.’ Her mouth twitched.
‘That is so not funny.’
Chapter 25
The house was terraced, red brick, and on the Crumlin Road. Aisling felt a surge of pride as Quinn managed with lots of turning of the steering wheel to manoeuvre his car between two others. The parallel park was not something she’d mastered. Driving was something she’d not mastered all that well for that matter. She could get from A to B so long as the vehicle was an automatic and no complicated parking issues arose but if someone else was happy to drive, then Aisling was happy to let them. If it had been down to her she thought as he pulled the handbrake up, she would have kept driving and they’d have wound up walking miles to their appointment. All thoughts of her masterful-parker fiancé dissipated as she spied the For Sale sign outside a dilapidated house with a sinking heart. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting but it was identical to all the other houses on the street. The only thing setting it apart from its neighbours was its air of having been let go.
‘It looks neglected,’ she said, peering out the windscreen adding an, ‘unloved,’ for good measure. Quinn had filled her in on the way over; the reason the house was going for a song was because it was an inheritance and the family wanted a quick sale. It explained why it looked unlived in but it didn’t make it any more appealing.
‘The garden needs a tidy up that’s all, and you haven’t even seen inside yet, Ash.’ He took the keys from the ignition and turned in his seat to look at her. He looked away quickly for fear she’d think he was staring at the lumps that had appeared on her face since the last time he’d seen her. Hives she’d said, due to a dodgy facial Moira had given her. He thought it as likely it was a reaction to all the stress she was heaping upon herself with the wedding. There was no point saying anything though.
Aisling could feel the heels of her shoes digging into the mat on the floor of the passenger seat and her hands were clasped tightly, resting on her black pencil skirt. She’d dressed up for the occasion in the hope of moving the focus from her face. The fact she’d power dressed though had done nothing to change her mind where this house buying business was concerned and she’d be quite happy if Quinn were to manoeuvre his way back out of the parking space. She’d give the suited-up man with the slicked back hair who was tapping his foot beside the gate, a cheery wave goodbye as they sailed past him. In fact, what she’d like, more than anything, was for them to go and get a cup of coffee and talk like they hadn’t talked in ages. She wanted reassurance he was excited about their nuptials because she felt like he’d switched off.
‘And he’s definitely got the look of a fecky brown noser,’ she muttered, turning her attention back to the waiting agent.
‘What was that?’ Quinn asked, opening his door.
‘Nothing.’
‘Come on then and keep
