Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [118]
For the first time Tara visualized it and she contracted with fear. It was like being told to jump off a cliff.
Fintan moved his head along on the pillow and left a hank of thick, black hair behind. He didn’t notice, which somehow made it worse.
‘But what would become of me without Thomas?’ Tara managed, sick from witnessing the hair loss. ‘I’d never get anyone else and I hate not having a man.
‘And it’s not something I’m proud of,’ she added quickly.
‘I’m going to puke,’ Fintan interrupted, urgently. ‘Katherine, pass me that bowl.’ He empty-retched, then, sweating and exhausted, flopped back on his pillows. Everyone remained silent, and Tara and Katherine were both trying to work up to leaving when Fintan spoke again. ‘How do you know you hate being without a man, Tara? You’ve only been single for about a week since we moved to London twelve years ago! The minute it ends with one, you’re off with another. Go on,’ he urged weakly, ‘break the fear barrier.’
Like a fish on a line, she struggled and fought to get free. ‘No, Fintan. I’m thirty-one. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I’m in the Last Chance Saloon and –’
‘You and your Last Chance Saloon.’ Fintan laughed, bitterly. ‘If anyone’s in the Last Chance Saloon it’s me.’
Tara couldn’t speak. Anger and guilt and fear tangled together. This was blackmail.
‘Do you want to end up just like your mother?’ Fintan asked. Tara’s head shot up. ‘Living with a cranky old bollocks?’ he suggested archly. ‘Doing everything bar standing on your head yet never pleasing him? Sure, that’s what you’re like already!’
Tara was inflamed. It was one thing for her to complain about her father, but it stung to hear another person, even someone as close as Fintan, speak that way about her family. And, anyway, she was nothing like her mother, who was a pet but undeniably a doormat. Even though Thomas was sometimes difficult, Tara wasn’t a doormat. She was a modern, independent woman with choices and power. Wasn’t she?
‘You can’t deny me anything I want. I’ve cancer.’ Then he put the final boot in. ‘If you don’t leave Thomas,’ he twinkled, ‘I’ll die, just to spite you.’
Tara wanted to kill him. She was as furious as she was grief-stricken. Over her throbbing head she heard him saying, ‘All right, I’m prepared to compromise. Ask Thomas to marry you and if he says yes, then you have my blessing. But if he says no, then tell him to sling his hook. How about that?’
‘Maybe,’ Tara mumbled, thinking, No way. Not in a hairy fit. Not in a million years.
‘Good!’ In his exhausted, nauseous way, Fintan was pleased. Until it occurred to him that there was a small chance that Thomas might accept. Oh, no!
‘Now, your turn, Katherine,’ Fintan declared. ‘You, missy, are to take yourself out of cold storage.’
Katherine assumed an expression of polite interest, as if she had no idea what Fintan was on about.
‘Get yourself a man,’ he elaborated.
Tara erupted angrily. ‘Why does she get the nice task and I get the awful one?’
‘I don’t think Katherine sees it that way.’ Instantly, Katherine forced a smile. It looked as if it had been stapled on. ‘Haven’t you noticed a pattern? Because I sure as hell have,’ Fintan murmured. His eyes were closed again and he sounded almost like he was talking to himself. ‘Every twelve months or so you show up with some insanely handsome man on your arm. He sticks around for a couple of weeks, then, bam! he’s gone and you’re telling us you don’t want to talk about it. Can’t you pick someone who’s, like, moderately good-looking? Stop building failure into every relationship you embark on. And don’t think I don’t know why you do it.’ His voice was so low they both had to lean in on him to hear him. ‘You’re just like your mother. One bad experience with a man and you turn chicken. Bockbockbockbockbock.’ Still with his eyes closed, Fintan bent his arms at the elbow and weakly flapped them. ‘Chicken,’ he repeated meaningfully, and opened his eyes to stare directly at Katherine.
‘I’m nothing like my mother.’ Katherine swallowed.
‘You’re just like her! Ducking men like