by Marian Keyes
Milo leant his mouth against Liv’s ear once more, Liv squeezed his Carhartt knee and Tara and Katherine swivelled to look at each other, with deadpan expressions.
‘For God’s sake,’ Tara complained.
‘What do you want to drink?’ Katherine asked Milo. He ignored her and continued with his whish-whish-whishing into Liv’s hair.
‘What do you want to drink?’ she asked again, louder.
On her fourth go, Milo gave her a dazed look and said, ‘Oh, um, sorry, did you say something?’
Tara said to Katherine, ‘Looks like we’ll have to make our own entertainment tonight.’
When they had glasses of wine in front of them, Tara began her cross-examination. ‘Are you devastated about Joe?’
‘I don’t actually feel that bad,’ Katherine said.
‘But you wouldn’t say if you did,’ Tara said sorrowfully. ‘You never do.’
‘No, honestly.’ Katherine was earnest. ‘I don’t. It really stings that he didn’t want me, but I did something good. I was brave and I took a risk.’
‘You’re only saying that so I’ll leave Thomas.’ Tara drew on her cigarette as though she was sucking poison from a wound. ‘A blatant case of bumlickery. Doing what Fintan asked and showing me up for the scaredy-cat I am.’
‘I’m not. I’m not.’ Katherine flapped her hand. ‘Hold on and I’ll try and explain it. Do you remember when we tried to imagine that we only had six months left to live?’
At that Tara winced.
‘That feeling that life is for living?’ Katherine reminded her. ‘That you only get one shot at it. Remember?’
‘Life isn’t a dress rehearsal. You’ll be dead long enough. You only go around the once.’ Tara’s sarcasm was almost palpable.
‘Exactly! That’s –’
‘Didn’t you notice my irony?’ Tara asked anxiously.
‘Oh, were you being sarcastic? Each to their own. Well, anyway, I feel like I’m alive. And I’m glad,’ Katherine said, simply.
‘But you’re always so cynical,’ Tara said, helplessly, ‘and a lovely man has rejected you. Any normal woman would want to die.’
‘You never know.’ Katherine gave her a sly look. ‘I might meet another man.’
‘But…’ Tara was confused. Katherine never said things like that.
‘Like him.’ Katherine nudged Tara and directed her attention to a good-looking blond bloke leaning against the bar.
As Tara watched, he began to smile, and the smile was directed at Katherine. Tara whirled around to look at Katherine who, instead of giving the man a grade one (icy disdain) or a grade two (icy disdain with an undercurrent of steely hostility), was smiling back at him. Not a huge big ear-to-ear beam, but a smile nevertheless.
And then the really baffling truth dawned on Tara. Katherine wasn’t returning the blond bloke’s smile. She’d smiled at him first.
What was going on? There was an unusual slightly loose-cannonish air about Katherine tonight. She looked different, reminding Tara of someone. Who was it? A person familiar yet not. Ah! Something turned and settled into place. How unexpected. It was her mother, Delia.
On Thursday Katherine went to work with a mild hangover and soldiered on with her Joe Roth-free life. Low with disappointment, yet still oddly convinced she’d be OK.
Work was a great distraction. But in the midst of inputting a fixed assets schedule, the longing to look at Joe hurtled at her out of nowhere. She kept her head turned to the screen and resisted. And resisted. But the yearning tugged at her, until she couldn’t fight it any more. Shifting her head infinitesimally, she allowed herself the merest sliver of a glance out of the tiniest corner of her eye.
And her skin flamed when she saw him watching her. Sideways, furtively, but with great intensity. Then, his eyes locked on to hers, he smiled. Wide, intimate, meaningful.
What was he grinning at?
She turned back to her screen. In the top left-hand corner a little envelope was flashing. You have mail. She clicked her mouse and opened it. It was an e-mail.
From Joe.
52
The day of the apology Joe Roth had told Katherine he’d think about it. And Joe Roth was a man of his word. So he thought about it.
A pragmatic man, when Katherine had rejected him with her hints of sexual harassment, he’d doused his feelings for her. But he hadn’t poured the acid of bitterness on them, corroding them into something ugly and twisted. So, though considerably faded, they were perfectly preserved and ready to be regenerated at a moment’s notice.
Not only did Joe want to go out with Katherine, but he wanted to take her somewhere totally, mindblowingly special.
Somewhere magical. Somewhere meaningful. Somewhere that showed how interested in her he was. But where? Out for a spectacular dinner? Hot-air ballooning? Away for the weekend? To a country hotel? To Reykjavík? Or Barcelona?
Nothing but the very best would suffice.
He racked his brains over the weekend to no avail. Monday and Tuesday were an agony of no inspiration.
And suddenly on Wednesday he knew. In an instant it was so very clear. It was the obvious thing to do for a woman of Katherine’s calibre.
But how would he pull it off? By next Saturday? That kind of thing normally took months – even for members the waiting list was eight weeks.
He realized he needed his mate Rob’s co-operation, there was no other way around it. He just couldn’t do it on his own. That evening he called to Rob’s flat because such an onerous request merited a personal visit.
‘I’ve met a girl,’ Joe prefaced.
‘I know.’
‘No, a different one.’
‘Blimey!’
‘Her name is Katherine and she’s really special.’
‘Good for you, mate.’
‘And I need you to make the ultimate sacrifice.’
Rob’s eyes flickered uncertainly. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Saturday…’
‘Saturday!’ Rob exclaimed. Surely he couldn’t mean…?
‘Saturday,’ Joe repeated meaningfully.
‘No, mate,’ Rob beseeched, backing away from him. ‘No way, mate. It’s out of order, don’t ask me to do that. A refusal often offends.’
‘So does a smack in the mouth.’
‘So it’s like that.’
‘Only because I’m desperate.’
‘We’ve been mates for a long time. I never thought you’d do something like this to me.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry. I am. But I’ve no choice.’
‘Who is this woman? Pamela Anderson?’
‘Better. So what do you say? Yes? Or yes?’
‘Can’t you take her somewhere else?’
‘No. Nothing but the best for Katherine. Go on, Rob. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll pay you whatever you want.’
‘Money is meaningless, you know that. I’m insulted.’
‘Do I have a yes?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘No, I need to know now.’
Rob looked in astonishment at Joe. ‘Blimey, you have it bad.’
‘Perhaps I do.’
‘Well, so do I.’ Rob trembled aggressively at Joe.
‘Too right. But please. Two hundred quid?’
Rob sighed. He wasn’t going to win this. ‘Go on, then. Two fifty and you’ve a deal.’
On Thursday afternoon Tara’s phone at work rang. It was Katherine and she sounded low.
‘What’s up?’ Tara gasped, ever poised for bad news of Fintan.
‘I’ve had an e-mail from our subject.’
‘And?’
‘He’s invited me out on Saturday.’
Tara almost had a heart-attack. ‘I don’t believe you! I thought you said he was horrible and ignored you all week. And now you tell me you’re going out with him on Saturday night! Fair play to you.’
‘Not Saturday night. Saturday.’
‘Paris on the Eurostar?’
A laugh from Katherine that sounded oddly bitter.
‘Oh. Lunch? Somewhere fabulous?’
‘No.’
‘What, then? Not the bloody zoo? Not in November?’
‘No, er…’ Katherine could hardly say it, she was so embarrassed.
‘Where? What?’
‘He’s um… he’s, er… he’s…’
‘He’s what?’
‘He’s taking me to a football match,’ she finally blurted, queasy with shame. She knew a public humiliation when she saw one.
‘Football is the new rock ‘n’ roll,’ Tara said, carefully.
‘You don’t have to be nice.’
‘Who’s playing?’ A lot hinged on this. Would Katherine be spending Saturday afternoon standing with three others on a muddy field in outer suburbia watching two non-league teams boring everyone to death? Or in a big, sexy stadium with seats and burgers and programmes and souvenir knickers, at a Premier match, where tickets cost more than those of a West End theatre?
‘Oh, I don’t know. Arsenal versus someone or other.’
‘Arsenal!’
‘I know. God, Tara, I wish I’d never got involved in this. I could die with shame. The outrageous cheek of him. If it wasn’t for Fintan –’
‘But Arsenal tickets are like gold dust.’
‘Are they?’ Suddenly things had started to look up.
‘It’s harder to get a ticket to an Arsenal game than it is for me to fit into size eight jeans.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Ravi supports the Gunners.’
‘What are they?’
‘The Gunners are Arsenal. Christ, you’ve a lot to learn. We’ll have to send you on a crash course to Ravi.’
Ravi made throat-cutting motions and rolled his eyes in alarm. He was terrified of Katherine. Her enigmatic mystique didn’t work for him, he just thought she was spooky.
‘How do you know so much about football?’ Katherine asked.
‘Because Ravi runs a league for us. Tell me what Joe says in the e-mail.’ Tara hugged the phone in excitement. ‘Read out exactly what he says.’
Katherine looked furtively around her office and dropped her voice even more. ‘It says, “Saturday afternoon, Highbury. A pint of beer, Arsenal v Everton, and thou? How about it? I pledge to explain the offside rule to you and feed you afterwards.” ’
Tara couldn’t speak because she was so close to tears. ‘That’s beautiful,’ she squeaked. ‘And he’s taking you for dinner afterwards. You never said that.’
‘We-elll…’ Warm pride was creeping up on Katherine.
‘Well, indeed!’
‘So, um,’ Katherine said archly, ‘would you mind waiting until after Saturday before leaving Thomas? I might need my flat to myself.’
‘Darn,’ Tara lamented. ‘And I’d so wanted to leave him this evening.’
‘If only!’
‘So what are you going to wear?’ Tara demanded gleefully. ‘Wear jeans! I wish I could wear jeans. I treble dare you to wear jeans. Go on. Zipped hipsters. I quadruple dare you. I five tuple dare you.’
‘But what if…?’
‘If what?’
‘Well, just say, we… you know, er, get it together?’
‘Katherine Casey. On a first date. I’m shocked.’
‘I might have the marks of my jeans on my legs and stomach. And that’s not very sexy. And what about my underwear?’ she asked tentatively.
Tara was astonished at such openness. ‘Do you mean suspender belts and all that gear?’
‘Mmmm.’
‘Well, I’m delighted. It’s about time a man got a look at them. But you’re right, you couldn’t really wear them with jeans. Why don’t you wear knickers that say, “I scored at Highbury”? He’s bound to like that. Or alternatively no knickers at all. So long as you have your pubes shaved, won’t he be delighted! Hahahaha.’
Katherine was sorry she’d ever told Tara her thoughts on the Gillette incident.
‘Fintan is going to be thrilled.’ Tara sang, absolutely delighted herself. The more Katherine and Joe became a reality the better the chance that Fintan would take the pressure off Tara. Although it had been a few days since he’d brought up the subject of Tara leaving Thomas, once she thought about it. In fact, it was nearly a week since he’d mentioned it. Not that she was taking that as any reason to relax.
53
‘Well!’ Ravi declared, when Tara hung up.
‘Well, indeed,’ Tara agreed.
‘So she bagged a date with the chap from her work.’
‘Certainly did.’
‘And he’s an Arsenal supporter. Sounds like a nice bloke to me. Don’t think much of his taste in women, though.’
‘Ravi!’ Tara paused from her scolding and clutched her stomach. ‘Oh, Ravi…’
‘What is it this time?’
‘Almonds. Bakewell tarts.’
Tara was once more back on starvation rations. Not only did everything she see and hear remind her of food, but now even smells were tormenting her.
It began that morning when the strawberry air freshener in her car put her in mind of the fake sugary smell of jelly babies. The urge to screech to a halt outside a newsagent’s and buy up their entire stock possessed her like a demon. As soon as she got on the Westway, the focus changed and she had an almost irresistible desire to lick herself. She smelt of delicious, sweet Bounty bars or coconut ice-cream. Which drove her mad until she remembered that the body lotion she’d slapped on after her morning shower was coconut-flavoured. Then when she arrived at her office she was hit by a profound urge for lemon cheesecake. The entire building seemed to be fragranced by it. She wondered if she was finally cracking up, until Ravi pointed out that the agent used by the contract cleaners to wash the corridors was lemon-scented.
‘Where are the Bakewell tarts coming from?’ Ravi asked.
Tara pointed towards Evelyn and Teddy, and Ravi got up and began sniffing around them.
‘What are you doing?’ Teddy demanded.
‘Checking for Tara. Do either of you have almond perfume? Or almond soap?’
‘Actually,’ Evelyn sounded amazed, ‘I washed my hair with almond shampoo this morning.’
‘Perhaps you could use another flavour until Tara falls off the wagon again,’ Ravi asked. ‘Something inedible.’
‘Sure.’ Evelyn eyed Tara with compassion. ‘Eucalyptus do you?’
‘Sorry,’ Tara mumbled, mortified. ‘Pay him no heed…’
Tara remained haunted by food. When she and Ravi went for their aimless lunchtime ramble to Hammersmith, she was briefly distracted by the new long-last lipstick from Clinique. Distracted enough to buy two colours. But when they came back out on to the street the round green, orange and red traffic lights looked so like giant fruit gums that Ravi almost had to restrain Tara from shinning up the pole and licking them. ‘I’ll buy you a tube,’ he offered.
Tara shook her head. ‘I used up my week’s calories last night. I blame Milo O’Grady. He made us all go for a Vietnamese meal after the pub. He’s mad keen to try everything London has to offer.’
‘You should eat.’ Ravi displayed some rare common sense. ‘With Fintan being ill, it’s a rotten time for you.’
‘Life’s got to go on.’
‘You’re being rather tough.’
‘I am not. I’m a mess. Between Thomas and Fintan I’m a complete state.’
‘Um, so how are things with Thomas?’
‘Dreadful! I don’t understand why but we’re barely civil to each other. I have this continual terrible feeling that something awful’s about to happen.’
‘Maybe it’s actually Fintan you’re thinking about.’
‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘At least, not only. Which makes me feel even worse. How can I be worried about my boyfriend when one of my oldest friends is really sick? But the thing is,’ she justified quickly, ‘even though Fintan looks terrible, he still has eight months of treatment to go, so the
re’s plenty of time for him to get better. And because he’s not getting obviously worse, things feel… well, not exactly normal,’ Tara mumbled, ‘but I’ve got used to it. Katherine feels the same. Liv says it’s a survival technique, that you can’t sustain being in a continual state of shock or terror. You’ve got to normalize the abnormal.’
‘You girlies. Why is everything so complicated?’
‘Oh, God, I just got a rush of it!’ Tara stopped still in the street, early Christmas shoppers banging into her, ready to berate her with seasonal ire, until they saw the appalled rictus on her face. ‘The thought that he mightn’t get better. It’s like looking into hell. It seems… evil.’
‘You need a drink.’ Ravi took her elbow and steered her into the nearest pub, sat her down and bought her a gin and tonic. ‘Has he cheered up any since he came home from hospital?’
‘Oh, no.’ Tara took a sip of her drink, and shuddered with relief. ‘Thanks, Ravi, this is saving my life. No, he’s awful. You know there are stories about people whose lives blossom in the face of death? Well, it hasn’t been like that for Fintan. Almost from the second he came home he turned into a real brat – spiteful, demanding, bad-tempered. Not that you could blame him, he nearly died when his hair fell out.’ She winced. ‘Wrong choice of words. He feels lousy,’ she continued, ‘because his white blood count is in bits after the high dose of chemo they gave him. And he’s angry and scared. But it’s hard to be nice to him all the time.’
Tara turned to Ravi, tears in her eyes. ‘Sometimes I want to smack him because I’m angry and scared too. And I feel so guilty!’
Ravi awkwardly pawed Tara’s hand. ‘I’m sure what you feel is normal.’ Actually, he hadn’t a clue, but he so badly wanted to help. ‘Another drink?’ he asked hopefully, though she’d barely started on her first. ‘And I’m sure Katherine bagging the bloke from her work will cheer him up.’
‘It’ll have to. I’ll never be able to do what he wants, and that’s part of the reason that I’m angry and scared.’
‘You never know what you can do till you try.’
‘I do know. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I can’t leave Thomas and that’s that.’
