Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [93]
‘Sure, where’s your hurry?’ Milo teased gently and remained seated.
‘But we were on the verge of going…’ Then Tara understood. The O’Gradys felt it would be bad manners to leave straight after someone else had just arrived.
She sat back down and turned to Fintan. ‘What time tomorrow are they letting you out?’
‘They’re not,’ Fintan said bluntly.
‘Whaaat?’ What the hell had happened now?
‘It’s no big deal,’ Fintan said. ‘I’m after getting an infection in my neck, where they took out the lymph gland. They want to keep an eye on me till it’s better.
‘And I’ll be very cross if it doesn’t get better,’ he complained. ‘I’ll have to have my neck amputated. Then I’ll have no neck and I’ll look like a rugby player!’
‘How long will you be in for?’ Katherine croaked. This didn’t bode well. National Health beds were rare and elusive creatures. Only if the hospital staff were very worried about you were you permitted to have one.
‘Five or six days.’ Fintan shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. ‘We’ll see.’
Thirty minutes later they bade Fintan goodnight and trooped towards the door.
‘Katherine, Tara,’ Fintan hissed, calling them back. ‘Keep an eye on Sandro, will you?’ he murmured. ‘Not that it’s the same, but after what happened to his last boyfriend… I worry about him and while I’m stuck in here there’s not much I can do.’
Down in the car park Sandro took Katherine and Tara aside. ‘We must keep Fintan’s spirits happy,’ he insisted. ‘We must entertain him and keep him from worrying.’
The O’Gradys were to stay in Katherine’s flat. It was the obvious choice: she had a small spare room which the boys could just about fit into, a pristine master bedroom fit for an Irish Mammy and a decent sofa bed for her own humble needs. As Tara said, ‘They wouldn’t stay with me. I’m living in sin.’ No need to mention that Thomas had refused to let them.
JaneAnn went into paroxysms of praise about Katherine’s flat. ‘It’s pure lovely! Like something belonging to a fillum star.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Katherine shrugged. ‘You’d want to see Liv’s flat. Hers is like something belonging to a film star.’
‘She’s a fine, handsome girl,’ JaneAnn said. ‘All the way from Switzerland.’
‘Sweden,’ Milo corrected.
‘Sweden, if you want,’ JaneAnn conceded. ‘Wasn’t she a grand girl, Milo?’
‘She’d a fine set of teeth and lovely manners. Now where will I put these?’
Katherine looked, and to her surprise there was food all over the kitchen table. A boiled ham, brown bread wrapped in a tea-towel, rashers, black pudding, butter, tea, scones and what looked like a roast chicken wrapped in tinfoil.
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have brought food,’ Katherine wailed. That morning she’d gone out and bought acres of food in honour of her guests. They’d never get through it all. Her fridge hadn’t seen this much action, ever.
‘We can’t land in here on top of you and expect you to feed us,’ Milo said.
‘He’s right. We can’t.’ Timothy spoke. A rare event.
‘Will you have a sandwich?’ JaneAnn urged.
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Katherine said.
‘But you have to eat something. There isn’t a pick on you. Sure, there isn’t, Timothy?’
‘Faith, there isn’t.’
‘Sure there isn’t, Milo?’
‘Leave poor Katherine alone.’
A few miles away, Tara had just arrived home.
‘Poor baby,’ she heard Thomas call from the kitchen. ‘Come here and be cuddled.’
Tara’s heart lifted and relief made her light. Thomas was being nice to her. Thank God. Only now that things were OK could she admit how tense and weird they’d been since – well, since they’d had that dreadful conversation about her getting pregnant. But what a shame that it took a crisis to fix things.
She rushed into the kitchen, just in time to see Beryl snuggle into Thomas’s chest. ‘Where were you?’ he demanded brusquely.
‘At the hospital.’ She was confused. What about her cuddle?
‘I asked you to feed Beryl this morning, and you forgot,’ he accused. ‘Poor baby.’ He stroked his face against the cat’s. ‘Poor hungry baby.’
With a cold, hard, little thump to her heart, Tara realized he’d been talking to the bloody cat all along. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said wearily,