Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [17]
Liv grabbed the phone from her. ‘There’s a thing in the bathroom, that has suckers, and it sticks to the washbasin. It’s to keep soap on,’ she told Fintan. ‘When you pull the suckers off the basin, that’s the noise Tara and this man are doing. Can we come over to your flat?’
But Tara was thrilled with Thomas. ‘I’m mad about him,’ she announced to everyone.
‘Mad is right,’ Katherine muttered, scathingly eyeing Thomas in all his brown glory.
‘She is on the refund,’ Liv said, sagely.
‘Rebound,’ Katherine corrected. ‘And you’re right.’
6
The feelings that bubbled up after passing Alasdair’s house had Tara dying to see Thomas. She almost ran from the taxi to the front door, but between her enthusiasm and all the alcohol still washing around in her system, she found it difficult to get the key in the lock. It took four attempts before she finally managed to stumble into the hall. Righting herself, she called, ‘Thomas?’
He was in the living room, four empty Newcastle Brown cans and a Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie tin on the floor beside the sofa. ‘About bludeh time,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.
‘Have you missed me?’ Tara asked, hopefully. She was so glad to see him.
‘Maybe I have.’ He gave a tantalizing, crinkle-eyed smile. ‘And maybe I haven’t. But I’ve had Beryl for company.’
Beryl was Thomas’s cat, upon whom he lavished attention, affection and admiration. Tara was wildly jealous of her and of the slinky, careless, ungrateful way Beryl received Thomas’s love, draping herself along him, then, on a whim, abandoning him as though it cost her nothing.
‘Good night?’ Thomas asked.
‘Yes.’ She didn’t say it was a pity he hadn’t come. Her friends and her boyfriend just didn’t get on, it was a common enough situation, only exacerbated when people tried to force it. ‘I didn’t have a starter and wait till I show you my presents! Look at my lipstick, isn’t it magnificent?’
‘’S all right.’ He shrugged.
She noticed something on the coffee table. ‘Oh, Thomas, you’ve filled in my car insurance forms. Thanks. You know how much I hate doing it.’
‘Don’t say I never do owt for you.’ He grinned. ‘And while we’re on the subject I booked the flicks for tomorrow night.’
‘What film?’
‘Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. About gangsters. Looks good.’
‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘I said I wanted to go to The Horse Whisperer.’
‘I’m not going to that bludeh girly weepy.’
‘But…’
Thomas looked hurt and before he did one of his quick about-turns of mood, Tara said quickly, ‘Well, never mind. I’m sure the other thing will be good.’
Thomas was terribly sensitive. It all went back to one Sunday morning when he was seven and he’d found his mother in the hall with a suitcase. When, in surprise, he’d asked where she was going, she’d laughed and said, ‘Don’t talk daft. You know.’ He’d protested that he didn’t, so she’d said bitterly, ‘We’re splitting up, me and your dad.’ It was the first Thomas had known about it and he told Tara that even now, twenty-five years later, it still pained him that his mother had been about to leave without saying goodbye to him.
‘Don’t come if you don’t want.’ Thomas looked wounded. ‘But seeing as I took trouble to book…?’
‘I want to come,’ she assured him. ‘Honestly, I do. Thanks for doing it. Who wants to see Robert Redford with his old face hanging off him, anyway?’ She noticed the bag of peanuts that Thomas was practically lying on. ‘Yummy.’
‘Oi!’ He slapped her hand away.
‘Aw, it’s my birthday.’
‘I – am – your – conscience,’ he boomed. ‘You’ll thank me for this.’
‘I suppose I will,’ she said sadly.
‘Cheer up, Tara.’ He chided. ‘It’s for your own good.’
‘You’re right.’ She rummaged in her bag. ‘Oh, no, I’m out of fags. How did that happen? Have you any?’
There was an infinitesimal hesitation before he tossed her his packet of cigarettes. As he leant over with his lighter, he said, ‘We have to give up, Tara.’
‘We really must.’
‘They cost a bludeh fortune.’
‘They do.’
‘Three quid a day, Tara. Each.’
‘I know.’
‘That’s twenty-one quid a week. Each.’
‘I know.’
‘That’s eighty