Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [37]
‘Benders,’ Tara sighed. ‘You’re dead lucky. Don’t you ever get jealous or insecure?’
‘No.’ They looked at each other and shrugged.
‘How come?’ Tara asked.
‘Why go out for a hamburger when you’ve steak at home?’ Fintan said, in a sing-song voice.
‘That’s so sweet,’ Tara squeaked, on the verge of tears. A rosy glow crept around the room, until it got to Katherine. Where it lost its nerve, turned tail and ran.
‘Except,’ Sandro broke the quiet by saying shamefacedly, ‘sometimes it’s nice to have a hamburger.’
‘There’s certainly no harm,’ Fintan nodded carefully, ‘in just looking at them.’
‘If Thomas tried to throw a net over a good-looking woman in the street, I’d cut his balls off,’ Tara admitted. ‘And I know you all hate him, but –’
‘We don’t all hate him,’ Katherine interrupted.
‘I do,’ Fintan said baldly.
‘And so do I,’ Sandro added. ‘And so does Liv.’
‘And so do I,’ Katherine admitted. ‘Sorry, Tara, you’re absolutely right. We do all hate him. Carry on.’
Tara looked bleakly as the other three killed themselves laughing.
‘I’m joking,’ Katherine backtracked hastily. Unlike Fintan, Katherine usually managed to hide her contempt for Thomas. She walked a narrow line – while it was her duty to let Tara know that she deserved better than Thomas, it was also her duty to be Tara’s sounding board. If Tara realized how much Katherine despised Thomas, she’d never tell her anything, and that wouldn’t be good. At least, not for Tara. On the other hand it would be very good for Katherine – her blood-pressure soared sky-high every time she heard What Thomas Did Next.
‘I know you all hate him,’ Tara reiterated. ‘But you don’t see what I see.’
‘Of course,’ Fintan murmured, unable to look at any of the others in case they all started laughing again.
‘I know he’s sometimes… difficult. But that’s only because of his mother leaving him. He loves me and he’d never be unfaithful,’ Tara said. ‘That counts for a lot. Especially after…’
Everyone waited.
They knew the script.
‘Especially after…’ Tara gave an ominous little hiccup.
‘Especially after…’
‘… Alasdair left you…’ Fintan supplied gently.
‘… and married someone else…’ Katherine finished.
Tara looked at them suspiciously. ‘Have I been going on about it too long or something?’
‘Ah, no,’ Fintan said, kindly. ‘Two years is nothing.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Tara brightened up.
‘Sure we’re sure,’ they chorused.
It was time to inspect Fintan’s clothes.
‘May I touch the coat?’ Tara asked, reverentially. ‘Is it really yours or just a loaner?’
‘I borrowed it from the stockroom. Carmella would have my guts for garters if she knew.’
‘Clothes look beautiful on you.’ Tara sighed enviously. ‘Even better since you lost the bit of weight.’
Fintan always dressed in character. As the coat was part of the Manchester look, he also wore baggy jeans, a baggy top and cobalt desert boots. ‘I feel nostalgic tonight,’ he said, just in case anyone might think that he thought the Manchester look was still in. His finger was superglued to the pulse and he was keen that people knew it. ‘I thought we’d go a bit retro. Have a nineteen-ninety-seven revival.’
‘The only thing I’m missing is…’ Fintan said slowly, eyeing Sandro’s spectacles.
Sandro adopted a defensive position. ‘No! I won’t give them.’
‘Five minutes, that’s all I ask,’ Fintan beseeched. ‘I feel naked without them. You can’t do the Manchester look without John Lennon glasses. Pleeeeeeeease.’
‘OK.’ Sandro reluctantly handed over his little round glasses, and Fintan put them on.
‘There!’ he said. ‘Finally, I feel fully dressed. Holy Jesus, though, they’re strong.’ He tried to focus on the others. ‘God, this is great. I wish I’d known about them before. Talk about hallucinations! I could have saved myself a fortune in drugs over the years.’
‘Can I have them back now?’ Sandro begged. ‘Without them I’m blind.’
‘But you go out and get blind drunk every Sunday night, anyway,’ Fintan pointed out. ‘Consider this a head start.’
Tara waved away Fintan’s offer of a ‘go’ of Sandro’s glasses. ‘When I wear glasses I look