Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [141]
In the bar they gathered around a table and Katherine was surprised by the thrill of well-being that lunged at her. She was excited to be out, looking forward to some fun. Not only had the nervy anxiety about Joe Roth lifted but so had the worry for Fintan that she’d been dragging like a bag of rocks.
Milo was unrecognizable from the rough-hewn eejit who’d arrived in London less than a month before. His hair had been shaped and tidied so that it no longer looked like he’d trimmed it with a chain-saw, and he was decked out in shiny-new gear, the trendy, design-conscious hand of Liv apparent in every thread. He was astonishingly handsome, all bulk and black curls and navy-blue eyes. ‘Look at them.’ He laughed, pointing at the pair of peculiar, asymmetrical shoes he was wearing. ‘Aren’t they the gassest things you ever clapped eyes on? They’re from some mad place. Reds under the Bed, or something.’ He looked at Liv for guidance.
‘Red or Dead,’ she murmured. It made a change being the person who corrected rather than the one who was corrected. She loved it.
Milo and Liv were still in the first, antisocial flush of love and while they made half-hearted efforts to speak to Tara and Katherine, they kept whispering and giggling to each other, touching fingertips, brushing kisses. Milo muttered something into Liv’s ear, and Liv lowered her eyes, smiled broadly, nudged Milo in his Diesel-clad ribs and murmured with put-on reluctance, ‘Stop.’
Milo muttered something else. Obviously even more suggestive, because Liv’s smile widened further and again she whispered, with a little giggle and an elbow, ‘Staw-hop.’
Milo leant his mouth against Liv’s ear once more, Liv squeezed his Carhartt knee and Tara and Katherine swivelled to look at each other, with deadpan expressions.
‘For God’s sake,’ Tara complained.
‘What do you want to drink?’ Katherine asked Milo. He ignored her and continued with his whish-whish-whishing into Liv’s hair.
‘What do you want to drink?’ she asked again, louder.
On her fourth go, Milo gave her a dazed look and said, ‘Oh, um, sorry, did you say something?’
Tara said to Katherine, ‘Looks like we’ll have to make our own entertainment tonight.’
When they had glasses of wine in front of them, Tara began her cross-examination. ‘Are you devastated about Joe?’
‘I don’t actually feel that bad,’ Katherine said.
‘But you wouldn’t say if you did,’ Tara said sorrowfully. ‘You never do.’
‘No, honestly.’ Katherine was earnest. ‘I don’t. It really stings that he didn’t want me, but I did something good. I was brave and I took a risk.’
‘You’re only saying that so I’ll leave Thomas.’ Tara drew on her cigarette as though she was sucking poison from a wound. ‘A blatant case of bumlickery. Doing what Fintan asked and showing me up for the scaredy-cat I am.’
‘I’m not. I’m not.’ Katherine flapped her hand. ‘Hold on and I’ll try and explain it. Do you remember when we tried to imagine that we only had six months left to live?’
At that Tara winced.
‘That feeling that life is for living?’ Katherine reminded her. ‘That you only get one shot at it. Remember?’
‘Life isn’t a dress rehearsal. You’ll be dead long enough. You only go around the once.’ Tara’s sarcasm was almost palpable.
‘Exactly! That’s –’
‘Didn’t you notice my irony?’ Tara asked anxiously.
‘Oh, were you being sarcastic? Each to their own. Well, anyway, I feel like I’m alive. And I’m glad,’ Katherine said, simply.
‘But you’re always so cynical,’ Tara said, helplessly, ‘and a lovely man has rejected you. Any normal woman would want to die.’
‘You never know.’ Katherine gave her a sly look. ‘I might meet another man.’
‘But…’ Tara was confused. Katherine never said things like that.
‘Like him.’ Katherine nudged Tara and directed her attention to a good-looking blond bloke leaning against the bar.
As Tara watched, he began to smile, and the smile was directed at Katherine. Tara whirled around to look at Katherine who, instead of giving the man a grade one