Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [81]
And her luck was in – Thomas was going to be out for most of Sunday because he was playing football.
Tara rang around and unfortunately Katherine was working, doing the Year Start. ‘But you’ve just done the Year End!’ Tara pointed out, disappointed.
‘Yes, and with every end comes a beginning,’ Katherine said.
‘Very profound,’ Tara said. ‘And something that you’d do well to remember.’
Once more, without success, Tara tried Fintan. Perhaps he and Sandro had gone away for the weekend. But they always told her and Katherine when they were going anywhere. No matter whether it was Marrakesh or Margate, a production was made of it. So where the hell were they?
Lighting a cigarette she rang Liv who, in the wake of Lars’ departure, was game for an outing. The only downside was that Liv was utterly miserable. Although even when her life was going fantastically well, she was still utterly miserable.
In Thomas’s earshot, Tara agreed with Liv that they’d go shopping. Except Tara intended they’d keep it very brief and, as soon as possible, head for a purveyor of deep-fried potato skins. Her mind was made up, and she didn’t care that she was probably about to wipe out five days of weight loss in one sitting.
‘I’m on my way,’ Liv promised.
Liv tried to time her arrival for after Thomas’s departure, but to her distress he was still there. He nodded brusquely as she passed en route to the kitchen with Tara. Though he approved of Liv’s long blonde hair and firm golden skin, he was irritated that she had to go and ruin the whole thing by being taller than him.
Liv hated Thomas’s flat: it was so depressingly dark and stank of cat. She itched to rip off the brown hessian wallpaper and paint the walls eau-de-Nil, to tear up the carpet tiles and varnish the wood, to rip down the roller blinds and swag and drape with lilac organza. But the kitchen was the worst, she thought, looking around at the mustard Formica cupboards. She longed to… to… burn the whole sorry mess to the ground.
Tara really should take it in hand. Didn’t she know that decorating was the new rock and roll?
Tara closed the kitchen door. ‘So Lars has gone back?’ she asked gently.
‘Yes.’ Liv nodded, her face taut with misery. ‘I’m very bad this time. Very bad.’
‘You’re always very bad,’ Tara tried to cheer her up. ‘Even if he leaves his wife and marries you, you’ll still be miserable.’
‘But I think I’m too bad to go shopping,’ Liv apologized. ‘What if I don’t find anything nice? I don’t think I could cope in my current fragile condition.’
‘Think of the joy you’ll have if you see a great pair of shoes,’ Tara encouraged. She didn’t want Liv to abandon her, because then she’d have to go and watch Thomas play football.
‘And what happens if they don’t have them in my size?’ Liv countered. ‘It could be dangerous. Jung says –’
‘Jung knows nothing about shoes,’ Tara said firmly. She refused to be browbeaten by Liv’s extensive knowledge of psychotherapy. ‘But if Jung won’t let you go shopping, what do you want to do?’
Liv stared at her, her blue eyes clear and candid. ‘I want to get pissed,’ she said.
‘Why didn’t you say?’ Tara exclaimed, wreathed in smiles. ‘I just thought you wanted to leave me and go home. Come on, then! We’ll go to one of the locals, get mouldy drunk and…’ she dropped her voice just in case Thomas heard ‘… have a roast lunch.’
‘With extra roast potatoes…’ Liv whispered in excitement.
‘The whole thing drenched in gravy…’
‘Then some apple pie…’
‘With a bucket of custard…’
‘Let’s just wait for Thomas to go,’ Tara said.
Ten minutes later Thomas’s lift arrived. Tara and Liv gave him a few more minutes just to make sure he really was gone, then gleefully elbowed each other and said, ‘Come on!’
‘Shall we take a taxi?’ Liv asked, as they stood on the street.
‘I’ve a suggestion to make,’ Tara said, staring into the middle distance theatrically.