Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [168]
‘Anyway, we were talking about a rainy night in, watching a black and white film on the telly, and we both said Roman Holiday. Remember?’
Of course she remembered, but she just said, ‘Did we? Oh, OK.’
At nine thirty they’d finished watching the video, Tara still hadn’t arrived and it was getting harder and harder to keep their hands off each other.
‘We can’t.’ Katherine reluctantly broke off a passionate kiss. ‘Tara’s bound to arrive at a vital moment!’
‘OK,’ Joe squeaked, his heart pounding. When his voice returned to normal he asked, ‘So why’s she leaving her boy friend?’
Leaking little bits of information, Katherine ended up telling him the whole lot about Thomas and what a creep he was. Then Joe told Katherine about Lindsay, the girl he’d gone out with for three years.
‘Who ended it?’ Katherine tried to sound casual.
‘Saatchi and Saatchi.’ Joe laughed. ‘She got a great job in New York,’ he explained. ‘But we were kind of on the way out anyway.’
‘Were you …’ she hesitated ‘ … wounded?’
‘Yes. But you know what they say.’
‘What do they say?’
‘Time wounds all heals.’
Then Katherine told Joe about Fintan and his cancer.
‘One day at work you had a little weep,’ Joe asked awkwardly. ‘You were doing my expenses and you said you’d had bad news. Was it the news about Fintan?’
Vaguely she said, ‘I suppose it must have been.’ No point letting him know that she’d catalogued every contact they’d ever had.
Next she found herself telling him about Milo, JaneAnn and Timothy, how funny they were about London. And how Milo and Liv had fallen for each other, even though Liv was a style goddess and Milo had lived in a pair of worn dungarees until recently.
‘Dungarees!’ Joe exclaimed. Perhaps the bloke he’d seen Katherine with one day was just Fintan’s brother.
‘Yes, dungarees.’ Katherine was puzzled. ‘I didn’t think they were only an Irish thing. They’re kind of blue overalls with a bib front –’
‘I know,’ Joe grinned. ‘And what does this Milo do for a living?’
‘He’s a farmer.’ What an odd question.
‘He’s not in a band or anything?’
‘Who, Milo? You must be joking.’
At eleven o’clock the phone rang. To Katherine’s surprise it was Tara.
‘Where are you?’
‘Still at home. Lost my nerve,’ Tara said miserably. ‘I’m sorry I’ve ruined your evening.’
‘You haven’t, Tara. I’ve had a lovely time. Don’t worry.’
‘I might get the nerve to do it tomorrow night.’
‘Whenever.’
Katherine slammed down the phone. It was an ill wind. ‘She’s not coming. So it’s all systems go on the bath mat!’
63
At seven o’clock on Tuesday evening, Tara was standing in her living room, boxes and bags at her feet.
She’d left work early. She wanted everything packed and ready to go, so that she could say her piece, then leave.
She’d fallen at the final hurdle the night before, still unable to come to terms with the hugeness of leaving her boyfriend and home and condemning herself to a life of lonely spinsterhood. It seemed so much easier to put up and shut up. What’s a little self-respect between lovers?
And naturally enough Thomas had been very nice to her, as if he’d suspected that something was afoot. Telling her she looked like she’d lost a bit of weight. Offering to cook her dinner. So every time she opened her mouth to tell him she was leaving, her head swam with disbelief and the whole idea seemed like lunacy.
But in relentless two-steps-forward-and-one-step-back fashion, Tara was finally ready. She’d been sweeping things under the carpet for a very long time, and it was no longer an option. Arming herself with images of all the times he’d made her feel like dirt, she was ready to do battle. Every now and then a new memory would pop up, filling her with fresh, furious resolve. She wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him as he’d humiliated her. As she’d let him humiliate her.
She heard the crackle of his key in the door and her mouth went dry. Worn out from a hard day’s berating teenagers, he barely looked at her as he flung his (brown) satchel on the (brown) couch.
Then he became aware that something funny was going