Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [35]
Every Sunday without fail he rang his mother. For a seventy-something, Irish-Catholic mother JaneAnn was pretty cool. She knew Fintan was gay and seemed to have no great problem with it. The only fly in the ointment was the question of Fintan’s ‘flatmate’. Fintan had never quite known how to bring the conversation around to the fact that he was living with his boyfriend, and as time had gone on, and no mention had been made, it had seemed harder and harder to broach the subject. Fintan picked up the phone and he and JaneAnn chewed the fat for ages, JaneAnn doing most of the talking. For a small town, Knockavoy had an awful lot of drama. Three heifers had escaped from Clancy’s bottom field and destroyed a shrub in the parish priest’s garden, and now the priest’s housekeeper was refusing to speak to Francie Clancy. Delia Casey was organizing a benefit gig for Rwanda, ‘whatever the heck a benefit gig is. Might it be something like a sale of work?’ And the hottest news of all – they were after getting Pop-tarts into the Spar.
When Fintan hung up he suggested to Sandro, ‘Why don’t you come to Ireland with me at Christmas?’
Sandro giggled nervously. ‘I am afraid. What if they didn’t like me? Your mother and your brothers?’
‘They would. Ah, Sandro, five years is too long to not have met each other’s family. It’s time we dealt with it.’
‘You’re right, and we could go to my family for New Year’s Eve.’
Fintan paled. ‘Or we could forget the whole idea and go to Lanzagrotty.’
‘Again?’
‘We’ll see. Let’s get ready for Katherine’s.’
‘Did you take your vitamins today?’
‘Oh, I forgot. I’ll take them now.’
‘Fintan, you must stop forgetting. It’s important that you take them.’ Sandro sounded annoyed.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
13
That evening Tara was almost afraid to go out, reluctant to leave Thomas while things were still tense and weird. It felt like an admission of failure. But once she was out of the front door and in her car, she found she was nearly hyperventilating. The relief of being out of that flat! Away from that terrible claustrophobic atmosphere of tension and fear.
‘Are you OK?’ Katherine asked, when she opened the door.
Tara nodded, lighting a cigarette. ‘Sorry about the SOS phone call at the crack of dawn. I’d my morning-after-the-night-before head on me, where the world seemed… ominous, I suppose. That’ll teach me to drink too much gin.’
‘Whatever,’ Katherine said. Tara wasn’t telling – yet.
‘Oh, no,’ Tara exclaimed, demonstrating her cigarette, which had a ring of lipstick around the filter. ‘My new indelible lipstick isn’t indelible after all! The girl said I’d need paint-stripper to budge it.’
‘Typical,’ Katherine condemned.
‘Why do they always lie to me?’ Tara demanded, sadly. ‘Why do they always let me down?’
‘Have a drink,’ Katherine consoled. ‘Beer or wine?’
‘Beer. I’m going to knit Thomas a jumper.’
Katherine had an instant of being utterly nonplussed. Quickly she managed to say enthusiastically, ‘Good girl yourself!’
‘I was good at knitting at school, j’remember?’ Tara pointed out. ‘Remember the lovely pink scarf I knitted for Fluffy the cat?’
‘Yeeess,’ Katherine said, faintly. ‘And does it matter that it was twenty-six years ago when you were only five?’
‘Ah, knitting’s like riding a bike,’ Tara pointed out. ‘Although,’ she said, suddenly anxious, sucking at her cigarette and inhaling down to her toes, ‘do you remember the way Fluffy pulled and tore at the lovely scarf until he got it off? He didn’t have a moment’s peace until he’d got rid of it.’
‘That’s cats for you.’ Katherine smiled encouragingly.
‘That’s cats for you, indeed,’ Tara agreed, bitterly. ‘Ungrateful swine. Dogs, now. They’re a different kettle of fish, they’re affectionate and loyal. But cats would sell you down the river, eat your last Rolo, double-cross you just for the fun of it. They’d shop their own granny if they thought it would be to their advantage, blacken your good name –’
‘Maybe pink just wasn’t Fluffy’s colour.’ Katherine felt she’d better interrupt.
Tara looked at Katherine as if she didn’t quite