Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [175]
‘Fabulous,’ Katherine admired. ‘Where’s it being held? Somewhere nice?’
‘Actually, no.’
It had been decided to hold their department lunch in-house because it had been impossible to secure a booking at any of the local restaurants. Either they were already booked out or else word had reached them of the performance GK Software’s development department had put on last year, when the lunch had spilled over to the evening bookings and a hard-core of eight or nine rowdies had still refused to leave.
Even now, nearly a year later, one of the local Polish restaurateurs blessed himself and crossed the road rather than walk past the offices of GK Software and its savage staff.
This year’s lunch began sedately enough. Every woman left her desk at ten thirty to get ready even though kick-off wasn’t until one o’clock. No work was done all morning, on the pretext that everyone was so excited. Of course no one was excited, but they recognized a chance to swing the lead when they saw one.
‘What d’you think, Ravi?’ Tara asked, modelling her new skirt.
‘What am I looking at? Clothes or lipstick?’
‘Lipstick, shlipstick! I’m afraid that self-renewing one wasn’t exactly the final solution. Suckered once more.’
‘Oh, Tara, I’ve something for you.’ Ravi rummaged around in his desk drawer. ‘This could be the answer to all your problems. Here it is.’ He brandished something torn from a magazine. ‘Tattooing! On your lips. There’s a place in California that can colour your lips in permanently. Sounds bloody grim, but at least you’d never have to worry about your lipstick coming off again.’
‘Thanks, Ravi, but no.’ Tara was deeply touched. ‘It’s very sweet of you to bother, but what, for example, if I wanted to try a different colour –?’
‘Sorry. I just thought it was worth a try.’
‘Oh, but it was!’
At one o’clock, thirty people piled into the boardroom for sherry, reheated turkey and shoddy crackers. Everyone drank enthusiastically. As usual Tara and Ravi sat next to each other and batted funny comments back and forth.
‘Look at Vinnie.’ Tara laughed, her face flushed. ‘He’s twisted. Even his scalp has gone red.’
‘He doesn’t get out much so he’s lost the skill of drinking.’
‘Pour us another sweet sherry there, Ravi, good man.’
‘Just the one,’ he said in his mincing ‘lady’s’ voice and they clinked glasses coyly.
At some stage, responsible people like Vinnie went back to work, but several more stayed where they were, Ravi and Tara in the thick of them, spirits high.
However, at about half past four a combination of not having eaten for several weeks and having more alcohol than blood in her circulatory system meant things suddenly turned ropy for Tara. She started to cry about Fintan, then about Thomas, then about Fintan again. ‘’Sawful,’ she wept. ‘’Sunbearable. Whaf he dies? Doan say he woan cos he’s prolly goan to. ‘Slike a knife through my heart. Worse than losing Thoms, miles worse.’ Then she looked at Ravi beseechingly and said, ‘Ravi, ‘mgoing to puke.’
‘Gangway!’ Ravi bellowed, as he half dragged, half carried Tara to the ladies’. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, to the startled trio of girls from the payroll department who were preparing in front of the mirror for their department dinner. ‘It’s an emergency.’
‘We can see that,’ they said, jumping nimbly out of Tara’s way.
‘That’ll be us in a couple of hours,’ one of them said hopefully, watching Ravi as he held Tara’s hair back from her face while, into the sink, she parted company with her sherry.
‘C’ngo home, pliz, Ravi?’ Tara begged him when she’d finished. ‘Will you take me?’
‘Course. Stay here and I’ll order a taxi. Keep an eye on her,’ he told the payroll girls.
The moment Ravi was gone, one of the payroll girls whipped a tube of toothpaste from her bag and insisted that