Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [148]
So she went home and the minute she saw Thomas her stung humiliation increased. Forcing a conversational tone, she said, ‘Guess what? Katherine’s going on a date tomorrow.’
He snorted. ‘Will she be taking the padlock off her knickers?’
She clamped her mouth shut. Losing her temper was a luxury she couldn’t afford. But she couldn’t help watching them both from a faraway place and thinking what an odd way for two people who were supposed to love each other to behave.
What a bizarre way to live. What a waste.
Though she couldn’t say when they’d crossed the line, it hadn’t always been this way.
She was so tired. She’d lived with enough weirdness for the moment.
‘Get me a drink,’ she said. ‘A glass of white wine.’
Startled he obeyed.
Something fundamental was in the process of shifting for Tara. She just didn’t know what it was yet. And she wasn’t sure she could bear to find out.
55
Tara had learnt a long time ago to compartmentalize her life – Thomas hadn’t ever wanted any involvement with her friends. So on Saturday morning, when she drove to Katherine’s to help her get ready for the date with Joe Roth, it was easy to leave her humiliation and dread about Thomas behind. Easier than easy, actually. Her life had become an uncomfortable place where she didn’t know what to think or what to do. It was a pleasure to leave it for a short time.
Almost combusting with excitement, she arrived at Katherine’s.
Katherine was wearing a bra and a pair of tight jeans, the zipped front emphasizing her flat stomach and visible hipbones.
‘It’s because you know how much I wish I could wear them, isn’t it?’ Tara said, gleefully. ‘It’s because you’re very fond of me.’
‘It’s because there’s not much call for short black dresses at a football match,’ Katherine replied.
‘Not at all, you’re just being kind to your fat chum, letting me wear jeans vicariously. How I wish I was you,’ Tara said wistfully, ‘with your no-bum and your skinny legs. Just as well you’re my friend, else I’d have to murder you.’
Tara looked around the flat. Something was wrong. The place was still a shambles, though it was nearly a week since the O’Gradys had left. The living-room carpet could have done with a good Hoover, everything looked dusty and askew and through the open kitchen door the sink was piled higgledy-piggledy with dirty plates.
‘Oh.’ Katherine twirled her hand vaguely. ‘Yeah, I know. I’d planned to do a big clean when they left, but, ah…’ Her voice trailed away. ‘It doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. Messy, but at least it’s clean.’
It wasn’t, actually, but Tara swallowed anxiously and said nothing.
‘Do you know, I miss them,’ Katherine admitted. ‘I’d got used to them.’
‘But they were driving you bonkers,’ Tara exclaimed. ‘Milo using your Coco Chanel body-lotion that time.’
‘We have no actual proof it was Milo,’ Katherine defended. ‘It could have been JaneAnn or Timothy.’
‘It smelt like Milo. You know, I think he’s got a real taste for nice things.’
‘He’s taken to Liv’s lifestyle like a duck to water,’ Katherine agreed.
Tara began sniffing the air. ‘What’s the pooey smell?’ She inhaled again. ‘Singed hair?’
Katherine looked uncomfortable. ‘I might have overdone it with the hair straightener.’
‘God, it really is all systems go on Project Joe Roth. So what happens if you get off with him? Aren’t you worried that your flat’s a bit…’ she faltered ‘… untidy?’
‘I’ve bought expensive new underwear,’ Katherine confessed. ‘I’ve tempted fate enough.’
‘More underwear?’ Tara choked. ‘If you wore a different pair of your knickers every day between now and when you die, you’d still have a pair or two left over!’
‘There we go again, assuming we’re going to live for ever,’ Katherine said lightly.
Immediately Tara went pale. ‘Every time I think of it, it’s as bad as the first time. He’ll be OK, won’t he?’
‘Maybe. Hopefully.’
Death hung in the air until Katherine interrupted, ‘Come on, do what you came here to do and help me get dressed.