Last Chance Saloon

by Marian Keyes

  More importantly he was very supportive to Katherine in her dealings with Fintan. He never complained about the amount of time she spent with him and seemed happy to devote plenty of his own time too. He didn’t even object when Fintan flirted outrageously the first time they met.

  ‘Thank you,’ Katherine had said, as they drove away.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For not getting uncomfortable when he gave you the come-on.’

  ‘What’s to thank?’ Joe had asked. ‘A good-looking man flirts with me? I’m flattered.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get used to it. I think he likes you.’

  The intensity of emotion and events acted like a pressure-cooker, so that Katherine and Joe had become very close very quickly. She’d never had a relationship that had lasted as long as this one. And it was a long time since she’d trusted a man as much as she trusted Joe. Not that she trusted him much. ‘But I trust you enough to tell you I don’t trust you.’ She laughed.

  ‘Thank you.’ He was utterly serious. ‘And take your time. I’m not in a hurry, plenty of people trust me.’

  Though she guarded her past as though it was a precious jewel, eventually she felt that she had to stop being so cagy about her family set-up. She knew all about his, and her dead silence whenever parents were mentioned began to feel like overreaction. So one day she sat him down and spilled the beans about her mad mother and her lack of a father. ‘I thought you were going to tell me you’d murdered someone,’ he exclaimed, when, after a dramatic build-up, she finally managed to blurt it out. ‘Why do you act like it’s something to be ashamed of?’

  ‘You mean it isn’t?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘But I’m illegitimate.’

  ‘You’re Katherine Casey,’ he replied.

  Even though she had to go to bed for a couple of hours from the exhaustion of the revelation, Katherine began to inch her way into a fear-free life. While Joe reached a new understanding of what she was all about.

  70

  ‘Something weird’s after happening,’ Tara said to Katherine.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think I’m over Thomas.’

  ‘Great. Well, it was bound to ease off. As Joe says, “Time wounds all heals.” ’

  ‘No, I don’t just mean it’s got easier,’ Tara insisted with intensity. ‘I mean when I woke up today it was all gone.’

  It wasn’t like those mornings when she woke up and had a few confused seconds during which the pain was absent, but then quickly rushed into focus, like a photograph developing, until the agony had returned in all its sharp definition.

  ‘It’s gone, like a puff of wind,’ Tara said. ‘My life with him seems like it belongs to someone else, and it seems so sensible to be over him because he just didn’t deserve me.’

  ‘You’re preaching to the converted.’

  ‘All I feel now is sorry for him.’

  ‘Go easy.’

  ‘But, Katherine, he’ll never be happy.’

  ‘Excellent. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.’

  ‘No matter what I did it wouldn’t have pleased him. If I went down to five stone he’d have complained about some other aspect of me. Because I wasn’t the problem. He is.’

  ‘You’re not just saying this?’ Katherine asked suspiciously.

  ‘No! Isn’t it great? I’ve wanted to parade in front of him to show him how skinny I’ve become, and now I don’t care if he never finds out. And I don’t give a damn about Marcy. You were absolutely right, he will make her life utter hell. And I’m sure he’s told her I was always upset, like he told me about his previous girlfriends, so that she’ll feel she can’t ever show any negative emotion, the way I did. But what do I care? Because my life isn’t a misery any more and that’s the way I like it!’

  They held hands and did a little dance of delight.

  ‘And I’m not saying that I actually want to have children, but at least now I have a choice, unlike poor old Marcy. She’d have been better off with the turkey-baster,’ Tara mused. ‘Thank you, Katherine, for everything. For housing me – I’m going to start looking for my own place this very weekend – and putting up with me. But most of all thank you for not letting me ring him or visit him.’

  ‘It was far better for you to have no contact with him,’ Katherine agreed. ‘The other way only prolongs the agony and keeps you hoping.’

  ‘All the same, I can’t believe it,’ Tara said, in wonder. ‘It’s only five months since I’ve left him and I always thought that heartbreak was something that went on for years and years, basically until you met another man. That’s how it’s always worked for me before,’ she added.

  ‘I know.’ Katherine had witnessed Tara’s almost unbroken ten-year chain of boyfriends. ‘This is nothing short of a miracle. It was always like a relay race before. You’d hardly be finished with one fella before you’d started on the next.’

  ‘Was I that bad?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘I’ve wanted a boyfriend since I left him,’ Tara admitted. ‘The loneliness has been unspeakable. And, in fairness, I had a couple of one-night stands.’ She recoiled at the memory.

  ‘But at least you left them as one-night stands. You didn’t start going out with either of the men.’

  ‘That’s because they were eejits and I’ve wasted enough of my life on eejits. I don’t want to do it any more.’

  ‘But don’t you see?’ Katherine demanded in excitement. ‘You were never like that before. You’d have gone out with an eejit rather than have nobody. You’ve changed.’

  ‘So have you.’

  ‘So have we all. Liv’s different. You’re different. I suppose even I’m different. Why?’

  ‘It’s because of Fintan, isn’t it?’

  Katherine tried to find the words. ‘It’s something to do with him being sick. And I know all that stuff about seizing the day and making the most of every second is hard to sustain constantly,’ she admitted guiltily. ‘It’s so easy at times to forget and to take it all for granted.’

  ‘But there are other times when I look at him,’ Tara interrupted, ‘so young and so much nearer to death than me. Then I think, That could be me, and I feel… it makes me…’ She faltered, then smiled with enlightenment. ‘It makes me want to live a better life.’

  ‘That’s exactly it.’ Katherine was luminous and repeated, ‘It makes me want to live a better life.’

  ‘And going back to Thomas wasn’t living a better life,’ Tara said. ‘And neither is going out with a gobshite. And falling in love with Joe Roth is.’

  ‘Excu –’

  ‘Sorry, that’s none of my business. You haven’t changed completely,’ Tara said ruefully. ‘Do you want to know something else?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not sure I ever loved Thomas.’

  ‘Makes sense to me.’

  ‘And do you know why I didn’t love him?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t think I ever got over Alasdair. So I’ve been thinking and do you know what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going to give Alasdair a ring.’

  Katherine’s heart sank. She’d known it was too good to be true. She’d been just about to return Tara’s mobile to her and all. Good job she hadn’t. ‘But he’s married,’ she tried. ‘It’s years since you’ve had any contact.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think we’ll get back together,’ Tara said breezily. ‘I just want to lay it to rest. And what better time than when I’m a size ten?’

  Katherine looked very anxious.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Tara soothed. ‘Even if I was desperate for a man – which I’m not – I’m going on a date on Saturday night. That girl at work I was telling you about, her boyfriend has a friend.’

  ‘Weren’t you supposed to do that ages ago?’

  ‘Yes, but she got the flu, then she was away, then I was busy, but we’re definitely going out this Saturday.’

&nbs
p; Katherine prayed that Tara would forget about the Alasdair idea, or that she wouldn’t be able to track him down. But, to her alarm, Tara announced that she’d spoken to him, that he was still in the same job, and that she was meeting him for a drink after work on Thursday.

  At nine thirty on Thursday night Joe and Katherine were watching telly and sharing a bottle of wine when Tara stomped in.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He was fat, balding and blissfully happy. They have a little boy and his wife is expecting another baby in August.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I’d be lying to you, Katherine, if I didn’t say that a small part of me had been holding out some sort of hope.’

  ‘No kidding.’

  ‘I didn’t even realize it until I saw him.’

  ‘Well, there we are.’

  ‘Also, I wanted some answers. How could he go out with me for so long and then turn around and marry someone else so quickly. He said that he couldn’t explain. He just said that when he met what’s-her-name it felt completely right. He just knew.’

  Katherine and Joe avoided looking at each other.

  ‘But you’d want to see him,’ Tara exclaimed. ‘I barely recognized him. He looks like someone’s dad. Alasdair, plump! Remember how wiry he used to be? Sorry, Joe, I forgot you don’t know him, but take it from me, he used to be as thin as a rake. Now he’s got love handles. I suppose that’s happiness for you. In fact, you’ve both put on a bit of weight yourselves.’

  They shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘He said I was looking great.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘But I could tell he didn’t really give a damn.’

  ‘Ah, well.’

  ‘So, this is one of me moving on with my life.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  71

  ‘As a last resort, pretend that you’re gay,’ Lorcan harangued, ‘or that you’re having doubts about your sexuality.’

  ‘Why?’ Benjy asked. Surely that was the last thing you should do if you wanted to get a woman into bed?

  ‘Because,’ Lorcan sighed at Benjy’s stupidity, ‘a woman likes nothing better than to think that she was the one who cured a man of his homosexuality. It’s a challenge and an ego trip. She’ll hustle you into bed, asking, “Is this nice, is that nice?” and if you bonk her, instead of feeling besmirched she’ll think it’s a victory.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’ Benjy was doubtful. Lorcan’s advice never worked for him. Ever. He was still smarting from the memory of a party the previous weekend, where Lorcan had lent him his special, non-working lighter. Instead of the girl being charmed by Benjy’s eager vulnerability and his elaborate mortification when the lighter didn’t spark, she’d just sniffed, ‘Loser,’ and turned away.

  Lorcan leant into the hall and yelled into Amy’s bedroom, ‘Tell us more about this Tara. She’s kind of, er, cuddly, you say?’

  ‘Yes. Although not as cuddly as she used to be. In fact, now that I think about it, not very much at all. And she’s really pretty…’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Lorcan said, impatiently, and pushed the living-room door closed again. He did not want Amy to hear any of this. ‘Right, so she’s a fat girl.’

  ‘But Amy just said she wasn’t.’

  ‘She was being nice, trying to sell her to you. Anyway, you’re in luck, Benjy, my man.’

  ‘Am I?’ Benjy couldn’t see anything lucky about being matched with a fatty.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve a great technique for you, straight from the master’s lips. Listen up, Benjy, this is what you do. No need to say to this Tara, “Hey, you’re a fat girl! I’ll do you a pity shag.” Because she knows she’s fat, you know she’s fat, right? But without letting on that you think she could do with dropping a couple of stone, you complain about women always wanting to be skinny. Got that?’

  Benjy nodded carefully.

  ‘You say to her, like you’re just making conversation, and that it’s got nothing to do with her busting out of her clothes, you say that it’s a myth that men like thin women. Tell her that you never hear men saying to each other, “She was gorgeous, so skinny, all her ribs were sticking out, like a skeleton or like a famine victim, I nearly sliced meself open on her hipbones, I’d a hard-on just looking at her.” Compris?’

  Benjy assented.

  ‘Next – like you’re just making idle chit-chat – you start complaining about models. Say that no red-blooded male wants a woman who looks like an anorexic teenager. Mention Jody Kidd. Of course, you know and I know that a night with Jody Kidd would be up there with the greats, but don’t tell that to Fat Tara. Because, before you know it, Fat Tara thinks she’s died and gone to heaven and is ready to deliver the goods.’

  ‘Jesus, you’re unbelievable. You’ve no morals whatsoever.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lorcan shrugged and said shyly, ‘Listen, man, no need to lay it on with a trowel. What are friends for?’

  ‘There’s only one problem,’ Benjy admitted awkwardly. ‘I don’t know if I’d like a fat girl.’

  ‘Fat girls have good points. What am I always telling you?’

  ‘To ask women what shampoo they use.’

  ‘Apart from that?’

  Benjy didn’t know and Lorcan exploded, ‘Amn’t I worn out telling you that fat girls try harder?’

  ‘Oh, right, of course.’

  ‘I feel like I’m just wasting my time here, Benjy.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Do you listen to anything I tell you?’

  ‘I do. I do. Sorry.’

  ‘Ah, you’re OK. You’re doing your best. Now another little gem I’m going to pass on to you – and not a lot of people know this – is that fat girls feel very nice.’

  ‘Would you sleep with a fat girl?’ Benjy asked hopefully. If Lorcan, his hero and mentor, would, then maybe it was all right.

  ‘Sure I would,’ he declared, magnanimously. ‘Sure I would. Mind you,’ he added, ‘I wouldn’t be seen in public with one of them. But in the privacy of their own home I’d have no problem playing hide the salami.’

  ‘Right. But perhaps Tara will be nice.’ Benjy was infused with wild hope.

  ‘Yeah.’ Lorcan’s eyes were narrowed, thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps she might be.’

  Lorcan went to the bathroom to get ready. He felt strangely depressed. What was wrong with him? He’d had new and worrying feelings in the last six months or so and helping Benjy didn’t thrill him the way it used to. He had neither the energy nor the stomach that he once had. He still went through his bad-boy motions with Amy, driving her insane with misery by neglecting her or flirting with other women when she was present. But it didn’t feel as nice as it used to. He’d always roared with laughter at the thought of settling down again and, even worse, having children, but lately he’d had strange, endearing flashes of the thought of a little Lorcan. And perhaps a little girl, too. Who knew?

  He was nearly forty. He sighed. Midlife-crisis time.

  With a flourish, he swept Amy’s brush through his vivacious, silky hair and his heart lifted. His hair never failed to cheer him. He played one of his favourite games for a while, which consisted of running the brush right down to the ends of his hair, stretching as far as it could go, then whisking the brush out and watching his hair bounce and spring with joyous elasticity back to its original position. He could never grow tired of it.

  He entertained himself for a while longer by fluffing and fiddling, stroking and patting, twiddling and rearranging, then picked up the brush again – and saw something that made his blood curdle in his veins. There was hair caught in the bristles of the brush. Lots of hair. Red hair. His hair.

  The brush fell from his lifeless hands as he instigated a frantic investigation of his crowning glory. Everyone moulted hair, but did the hair in the brush imply something more sinister? With minute detail he fingered his way through his scalp and to his horror his hair seemed to be thinner on top than it used to be. He was losing his hair! Black patches scudded before his p
anic-stricken eyes. He couldn’t be going – he choked at the word – bald. He needed his hair. Especially for his career. But everything felt like it was coming to an end – over before it had even begun.

  Moving to a deeper level of fear, he remembered his father. He’d lost his hair early, which was no problem when you were a postman. But Lorcan was an international actor. His appearance was his income. What would he do? he projected wildly. When the crown of his head was smooth and bare, would he keep the rest of it long, à la Michael Bolton? Or would he cut and shave the remaining hair, so that he was entirely bald, just like Grant Mitchell?

  Diminished, almost in tears at the thought, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. And wondered what he was worrying about. He still had loads of hair. Tons of it. Long and luscious, lustrous and luminous. Volumizing shampoo. That’s all he needed. A bit of lift over his forehead. And there was Wella’s liquid hair, he’d only been waiting for an excuse to use it. Here was his chance.

  He pointed a finger at the mirror, winked, clicked his tongue and, with a warm appreciative grin, ordered, ‘Don’t go changin’.’

  ‘How do I look?’ Tara, sleek and sexy in a black catsuit, paraded before Katherine and Joe.

  ‘Great. Tara –’

  ‘What if your man Benjy is nice?’ Tara wondered.

  ‘Tara, something’s happened. While you were in the shower Sandro rang about Fintan.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ Tara breathed and sank into a chair.

  ‘No, it’s good news.’

  Tara’s pale face looked up hopefully from between her fingers.

  ‘Really good news. He said that in the last day there’s been a dramatic reduction in the size of the tumours.’

  Tara was frozen, her fingers still half over her face.

  ‘The one on his neck has halved, he says, and you can hardly feel the ones on his pancreas.’

  ‘Oh, thank God.’ Tara laughed tearfully. ‘About bloody time too, after six months of chemo. What about his bone-marrow and chest?’

  ‘More tests will have to be done, but if the lymph glands have improved we can only presume there’s a high chance that the other sites have too.’