‘Well, I see chins are definitely in, dear,’ Lisa twinkled, and with a tilt of her head, indicated Dervla’s plenitude of chinnage.

A gasp of shock from the office segued seamlessly into laughter, uplifting Lisa. She was proud of her clever, bitchy tongue and the power it gave her.

Dervla stood stock-still in astonishment, as all around her, colleagues laughed, then she too attempted a good-sport’s smile.

‘Isn’t this what it’s all about?’ With fake heartiness, Jack raised his pint to Kelvin and Gerry. ‘No women here to annoy us?’

Kelvin flicked a glance around the pub. The Friday night clientele included a fair few women.

‘But none of them are sitting here with us, wrecking our heads,’ Jack elaborated.

‘I wouldn’t mind if that Lisa was sitting here,’ Kelvin said. ‘Jayzus, she’s beautiful.’

‘Gorgeous,’ Gerry agreed, moved to speaking.

‘And have you noticed the way that though her eyes stay still, her nipples follow you around the room?’ Kelvin remarked.

Both Gerry and Jack looked slightly taken aback by this.

‘Mercedes is pretty tasty too,’ Kelvin enthused.

‘She hasn’t got much to say for herself, though,’ Gerry said, in an open-and-shut case of the kettle calling the pot black.

Kelvin grinned at Gerry. ‘It’s not her conversational skills I’m interested in.’

They sniggered and nudged in dirty approval.

‘Pass us the ashtray, Kelvin,’ Jack interrupted. As Kelvin obliged, Jack chortled miserably, ‘The last time I said that to someone they turned around and said, “You’ve ruined my life, you bastard.” ’

Gerry and Kelvin shifted uncomfortably. Jack was destroying the Friday-night feel-good factor.

‘Leave it alone,’ Kelvin advised, then made a valiant attempt to steer things in the right direction. ‘Isn’t Ashling a dote?’

‘Lovely. Like a nice kid sister,’ Gerry agreed.

‘And a good-looking girl, too,’ Kelvin added generously. ‘Just not a stunner like Lisa or Mercedes.’

A small eel of discomfort squirmed in Jack – Ashling made him feel funny. Something like shame, or perhaps it was irritation.

‘I’m only saying,’ Jack returned to more pleasant things, ‘isn’t it nice not having any women here? So if I remark that it’s a lovely sunny evening, no one will turn around and say “Get out you loser, I’m sorry I ever met you.” ’

With an exaggerated sigh, Kelvin gave in. ‘So it’s all off with Mai again?’

Jack nodded.

‘Would you not just give up on it?’

‘You’re always fighting,’ Gerry threw in his tuppenny’s worth.

‘She drives me wild,’ Jack insisted, in frustration. ‘You don’t know what it’s like!’

‘’Course I do, I’m married,’ Gerry said.

‘No! I don’t mean like that –’

‘Love ‘em and leave ‘em,’ Kelvin interrupted with a laddish leer. ‘That’s my motto. Or rather, Not love ‘em and leave ‘em.’

And that was quite enough about emotions, Kelvin decided.

To think how glad they’d all been when Jack had first started squiring Mai! It had been over a year since Dee, his long-term girlfriend, had abruptly left him, and it was good to see him back in the game. Or so they’d thought. But after the honeymoon period had worn off – which took about four days – Jack seemed almost as unhappy with Mai as he had been in the aftermath of Dee’s departure.

To keep Jack off the subject of women, Kelvin asked, ‘How’s the latest ruckus with the unions at the television station?’

‘Sorted,’ Jack growled. ‘Until the next time.’

‘Jayzus, rather you than me.’ Kelvin knew that Jack was constantly walking a tightrope between the demands of management, the demands of the unions and the demands of the advertisers. No wonder he was always stressed.

‘And viewing figures are up,’ Gerry said.

‘Are they?’ Kelvin exclaimed, not terribly interested. ‘Fair fucks to you, Jack.’ He turned to Gerry. ‘It’s your round. Buy our glorious leader a drink.’

Cars, Kelvin decided. That’s what they’d talk about next.

Lisa was the last one out of the office on Friday evening. The streets were thronged and the setting sun was dazzling. Picking her way through the good-humoured revellers spilling out of pubs on to the streets of Temple Bar, she headed determinedly for Christchurch. But memories tugged faintly at her. Of other sunny Friday evenings. Sitting with Oliver by the river in Hammersmith, sipping cider, peaceful and free after a hard week.

Had that really been her?

She pushed Oliver away and tried to think of something else, then sticking out from under a pub table she saw a pair of white shins, criss-crossed with red lines. Trix!

At lunchtime, in honour of the blue sky and above-freezing temperature, Trix had shaved her legs in the ladies’ and bared them, bloodied but unbowed, to the world. She’d nearly cleared Ashling out of plasters.

Lisa hurried on, pretending she hadn’t seen Ashling waving to her to come and join them.

The good weather had obviously put Ashling in mind of defoliating her legs too, because Lisa had overheard her booking a lunchtime leg-wax. Oddly enough, though, she hadn’t tried to swing a freebie. It seemed she was just going to go in as a civilian and pay the going rate. But if Ashling didn’t have the nous to use – OK abuse – her position as assistant editor of a women’s magazine, it wasn’t Lisa’s job to wise her up.

There had never been much chance that Lisa would be friendly to someone as ordinary as Ashling. But because Ashling had caught her crying and treated her as though she needed tenderness, Lisa disliked her immensely.

She disliked Mercedes too, for totally different reasons. Mercedes, silent and self-possessed, rattled her.

When Ashling had hung up from booking her leg-wax, Lisa had made the whole office laugh by saying, ‘Now your turn to book one, Mercedes. Unless, of course, gorilla legs are in this summer.’

Mercedes shot Lisa a black look, so dark that Lisa held back what she’d been about to say next, which was that with her colouring, Mercedes was an ideal candidate for sideburns and a moustache.