‘The “why” is not important, Amanda.’ Amy was tapping the steel toes of her Doc Martens against the legs of the high stool she was perched on, illustrated legs crossed spaghetti-like. ‘Just give him a few more greys in the temples and darken the under-eye area – he’s supposed to be stressed at work.’
‘O-K.’ Amanda dusted Almost Dan’s hair with leave-in shampoo and began smudging bags under his eyes.
Almost Dan peered over at Shelly. ‘So where’s this thing on, then? Is this how you usually get dates?’ He was smiling playfully. ‘I love you onDurty Aul’ Town.’
Amy hopped down from the stool, yanked her glasses off her head and shoved her face right into Almost Dan’s, eyeballing him. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Eh, nothing.’ Almost Dan shifted awkwardly. ‘Just doing the small talk. First-date stuff,’ he added shyly.
‘This is not a first date, FFS! You’re already married.’ Amy was scathing.
‘We’re married?’ Both Almost Dan and Amanda looked stunned at this news.
‘Ugh, I’ll explain on the way after you’ve signed the confidentiality agreement. You done, Amanda?’
Amanda gave Almost Dan a final once-over with a bit of powder and stepped back, looking concerned. ‘Yep, he’s good to go,’ she said quietly, biting her lip.
‘No need for that face, Mandy, it’s all under control.’ Amy gathered her various phones, checked Shelly’s face (‘More highlighter and concealer on the bags,’ she snapped) and began marching them out the door.
The car journey was taken up with explaining Almost Dan’s role. As they neared Shanaghan House, Shelly pretended to be preoccupied with her Insta while Amy put Almost Dan through his paces.
‘What are you to be doing at all times at this event?’ she drilled.
‘Be on my phone,’ he said quickly, miming the phone using his wallet.
‘Use your actual phone,’ Amy barked.
‘Yep, sorry. Got it.’
‘What do you do if someone comes over to you at any point?’
‘I do the I’ll-be-off-in-two-seconds gesture,’ Almost Dan held up two fingers in the universal symbol, ‘then turn as if I’m talking and scurry away.’
‘OK, good. Maybe try not to scurry. Real Dan’s not a scurrier.’ Amy glanced at Shelly. ‘You OK?’
‘Yep,’ Shelly lied. She was so nervous she felt paralysed. Was this madness? What if someone noticed? She tried to remember if any of the Insta-mums had ever met Dan in the flesh. Even if they hadn’t, just anyone getting close to this Dan could be a problem. Amanda’s skills did not lie in subtlety and Almost Dan’s face was looking a bit too made-up – was that highlighter on his cheeks?
‘It’s too late to worry now, Shelly,’ Amy answered her thoughts. ‘We’ll get in and get out. Quick distant photo op. Show face, but not too much. And we’re home free.’
The taxi pulled into the car park of Shanaghan House. Straight away Linda of @LindasLittlePrecious (3,008 followers) was jogging alongside the car. ‘Shelly! Oh my gawd, it’s been forever!’
‘Get on the phone now,’ Amy scream-whispered at Dan while Shelly rolled down the window and offered Linda her hand, which Linda immediately clasped on to. ‘Dying to catch up.’
‘We’ll just park.’ Shelly smiled tensely, trying to let go. Linda’s grasp was strong but Shelly managed to shake her off, retract her hand inside the still-moving car and roll the window back up.
‘See you in there,’ Linda called, slightly winded from jogging.
Once parked, Amy, spotting Shelly’s alarm, immediately began outlining a detailed plan. ‘Everyone calm down – that was an unexpected ambush there by Linda Whatever-her-name-is but soon as we’re in, it’ll be grand. Dan, your main objective is, at all times, to keep your distance. Skirt this perimeter fencing.’ Amy had brought up a schematic of the large country house and grounds on her iPad. ‘Stay on the phone, be low-key. Shelly, just do the “oh, Dan’s so in demand but he couldn’t miss this” line and move the convo on. Easy.’
Amy consulted her phone. ‘OK, Marni and Georgie are arriving in three.’ Amy had brought in a separate-cars rule eighteen months ago when Georgie had had an unfortunate spill on a dress on loan from a boutique Shelly’d been working with. Shelly was always stressed that someone would spot them at one of these events doing the handover of the child. Some days she could reason herself out of it with a stern reminder that she was a working mother, ergo she had childcare. It just so happened that her work required occasional cameos from her daughter.
‘Muma! Muma, Muma, Muma!’ Georgie’s squeals pierced her rumination. Shelly slid out of the car and was nearly floored by the loving ferocity of the child’s greeting.
‘Muma, Muma.’ Georgie wrapped herself, koala-like, around Shelly’s leg and launched straight into the kind of high-pitched, meandering, occasionally surreal monologue that three-year-olds specialise in. ‘We went in the garden and I saw a budderfly bringing toast back to the babies at home. Then the budderfly made her babies babycinos and they all made cake. And then, and then,’ she was gasping out the words, trying to hold Shelly’s focus, ‘then Mammy bought me here …’
‘Marni,’ Shelly interrupted sharply. ‘It’s Marni, sweetie, not Mammy.’
‘Marni,’ Georgie said carefully then, losing her place in the spiel, noticed ‘Dan’, who’d just emerged from the car followed by Amy. ‘Who’s that? He looks like Dada.’
