All Because of You (Lakeview #2) (3 page)

Then again, a blonde in a convertible always got attention, didn’t she? Never mind that the blonde in question was really a
strawberry
-blonde who badly needed her roots done, wore very little make-up, and was today dressed in decidedly unglamorous sportswear – totally undeserving of such attention. If anything she looked like some cheeky gurrier who’d hot-wired the thing. 

She stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the other driver. Why on earth she had let Glenn talk her into buying this she’d never know.

But wasn’t it a blessing twice over that the weather was fine? Because even though she’d been driving the car a few weeks now, she still couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to put the top back up. She had meant to ask Glenn for another demonstration before she left but had forgotten. 

Glenn, as always, was horrified at Tara’s lack of appreciation of auto-excellence. 

“What’s the point in having a class machine like that if you don’t appreciate it?” he’d say, while Tara would roll her eyes and point out that she’d have been much happier in an ordinary, run-of-the-mill Golf or something, rather than this snazzy, attention-seeking number he’d insisted they get.

She eventually spied the turn-off for her parent’s place, which was situated in a small mews just outside
Lakeview centre. She made her way tentatively towards their house, hoping that no one she knew would see her driving this pretentious car. She could almost imagine the comments. “Did you see that Harrington one in her fancy car? Who does she think she is coming down from Dublin and lording it over us all? Next, she’ll be telling us all how to live our lives like she does with all those snobs up in the city!”

Tara’s career as a l
ife coach was something she knew her poor mother had a terrible time trying to explain to the neighbours and couldn’t quite get to grips with herself.

“Surely people don’t need to be told how to live their lives, Tara?” Isobel would say, when Tara had first set up her consultancy. “Surely they have enough common sense to be able to work things out for themselves?”

Tara had given up trying to convince her mother that there were people out there who needed some form of direction in their lives, who needed somebody objective to help them get to grips with things like time management, relationship issues and  – more often than not – boost their self-confidence. And most importantly, there were people out there who were willing to pay good money to do so. 

“It’s perfect for you,” her best friend Liz had said, when Tara originally broached the idea of life coaching. “You have a natural empathy with people and, unlike lots of people I know, you have a terrific ability to see things objectively  – not to mention that you’ve got a lot of common sense about things – well, your love life aside,” she added sardonically. 

Tara ignored the jibe. It was all right for Liz; for as long as she’d known her friend, she’d wanted marriage and babies and happy families and all that. Tara, on the other hand, had no interest in marriage whatsoever, and she and Glenn were perfectly happy the way they were. Tara spent most of her time trying to help people decide what it was they wanted from life and how to get it, but despite what Liz thought, she herself didn’t have that problem.

Reaching her parent’s house she parked outside, and prayed inwardly that the rain would hold o
ff for the rest of the evening. Despite the earlier sunshine, there were by now a few dark clouds gathering overhead, so fingers crossed. Glenn would not be best pleased if the car’s lovely leather interior got drenched. On second thoughts, she rooted in the glove compartment and pulled the instructions handbook out – she’d get her dad to have a look at it – maybe he could figure out the mysteries of raising and lowering the top.

She rang the doorbell and cast a nostalgic glance around her dad’s well-tended garden. Her parents had lived in the same estate since Tara was born, and through all of her subsequent thirty-four years.

Thinking of her and Glenn’s rented house in Dublin, and their polite but rather detached neighbours, Tara now felt a brief loneliness for the sense of community always present here in Lakeview. Most of the families had lived here just as long as her parents, and knew each other well. Now, while it had of course been a right pain in the backside getting caught sneaking out of the front window at night to go to the disco when she was a teenager, Tara thought it was nice to know that there was someone you could trust with a set of spare keys, or someone to call in to for a chat whenever you felt a bit lonely. Tara had nobody like that really, not since Liz had almost a year earlier moved here with her husband Eric (who was a childhood friend of Tara’s, and also from Lakeview) and young son. And single-handedly running a one-to-one life-coaching consultancy wasn’t exactly conducive to gossipy chats.

But she was calling over to Liz’s house later and was planning to spend the night, so no doubt they’d have a good chat then.  

Tara smiled warmly when her mother opened the door.

“I thought you’d be here earlier,” Isobel said, by way of greeting, her face impassive as she regarded her eldest daughter. “Too busy telling people how to live their lives, I suppose.”

“Hi, Mum.” Ignoring the remark, Tara stepped forward, and gave her mother an enthusiastic hug. Isobel had never taken what her daughter did for a living seriously, and Tara didn’t expect that to change now. “I thought I’d be earlier too, but the traffic was heavy, and I got stuck at every single red light on the way.”

“Is Glenn not with you? her mother asked, looking behind Tara, and her eyes widened as her gaze rested on the car. “Is that
thing
yours?”

Tara shrugged. “Yep. Glenn’s wanted one for ages. As long as it’s got four wheels and a steering wheel, I don’t care what I drive.” She wasn’t sure why she felt she had to be dismissive of the car, particularly as the money to buy it had been hard-ea
rned and as Glenn had insisted ‘totally well-deserved’. Perhaps she felt it would be better if she herself got the jibe in before her mother got the chance.

“I see. A bit fancy, isn’t it?”

“It’s just a car, Mum. And no as you can see, Glenn’s not with me. He had to work up some extra hours in order to get time off for the holiday. I thought I told you that?” 

“Right. Well, it’s probably just as well he isn’t,” Isobel replied cryptically as she closed the door behind them, but Tara hardly heard her.

“Is Dad here? The garden looks great – and I can’t believe how much the clematis has spread since last year …” She rambled happily on, all the way in from the hallway to the back of the house and out to the kitchen. Then she stopped short.

Tara’s younger sister Emma was sitting at the kitchen table alongside their father, her face solemn and mournful, and instantly Tara knew that something was up. 

While talking to her mother on the phone a few days back about her impending visit, Isobel had briefly mentioned something about Emma being a bit off form.

“Why, what’s wrong with her?” Tara asked before adding silently –
this time.

“Ah, she’s very down in the dumps,” Isobel replied. “She came down from Dublin last weekend, and was going around with a face on her like a wet week.”

Man trouble no doubt, Tara thought, and smiled indulgently. At thirty-one, Emma was three years younger than Tara and, in more ways than one, very definitely the baby of the Harrington family. Emma had probably got a bee in her bonnet over some guy she was seeing in Dublin, and had come home to Lakeview for some attention and sympathy. Which, of course, was something she’d get from Isobel in spades. Emma was the baby, the pet and the one who over the years had always needed a lot of mothering, much more than Tara who, from a very early age had sought independence and was very self-reliant. 

For this reason, and the fact that she was usually man-less, often jobless, and habitually gave off a general air of misfortune, Emma was very much the favourite in the household – something Tara had long since come to terms with and wasn’t at all bothered by. Still, despite their different personalities, she and Emma had always got on reasonably well, although at times Tara did find the ‘poor me’ aspect of her sister’s behaviour a little irritating.

So, what was the problem this time? Emma was always experiencing some kind of drama, and if it wasn’t trouble with a man, or trouble with one of her friends, it was trouble with work. Despite the fact that there were ‘Staff Wanted’ signs everywhere Tara looked and companies seemed to be crying out for employees, for some reason Emma couldn’t seem to hold down a job either in the village, or in Dublin. Laziness being the obvious reason, Tara mused but quickly stopped in mid-thought, and urged herself to snap out of judgemental-older-sister mode.

“Emma, hi – how are things?” she asked easily.

“Hi,” Emma responded with one of her trademark mournful looks – the one that implied that the world and his mother were conspiring against her.

“Maybe you could use your life-coaching skills on your sister, Tara,” her mother said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “After what she’s just told us, she certainly needs them.”

“What do you mean?” Tara looked curiously at Emma.

“I’m pregnant,” her sister replied in a small voice.

Tara’s eyes widened. Oh dear, this
was
a problem.

“I just told them the news before you arrived. I’m three months gone.” Emma glanced away, refusing to look any of them in the eye.

“But … but how?” Tara asked in bewilderment. “I mean … I didn’t know you were seeing anyone or – ”

“Neither did we,” her mother interjected, her voice laden with disapproval.

“I’m not … I wasn’t seeing anyone,” Emma confirmed quietly. “It was a mistake … an accident.”

“An accident? You mean a one-night stand?” Tara persisted, while her father looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the whole scenario.

Emma nodded, her huge blue eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, Emma …
” Her heart instantly going out to her sister, Tara took a seat alongside her at the table. “I know there’s no point in saying it now, but you really should have been more careful – ”

“Er, I’d better go back out to the garden.” Evidently feeling awkward with the conversation, and the direction it seemed to be taking, Bill stood up. “I’ll be back in later on,” he told Isobel who remained stony-faced as he went out and closed the door behind him.  

“I know I should have been more careful, and I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Emma said, her eyes shining with tears. “Believe me, it was the last thing I expected – ”

Tara shook her head. This was awful. Though, at thirty-one years of age, at least Emma was old enough to cope with an unplanned pregnancy, and was a million miles away from the state of some unmarried teenager. 

“So, have you told the father?” she asked.

Emma shook her head vehemently. “No, and I’m not planning to tell him either.”

“What? What do mean you’re not planning to tell him?” Isobel’s eyes flashed with annoyance.

This was a shock for every parent, but perhaps even more of a shock for their mother, Tara supposed. Coming from a small village like
Lakeview, Isobel’s initial concern would undoubtedly be about what the neighbours would say.

“Why
wouldn’t
you tell him?” Isobel demanded.

“It’s complicated, Mum,” Emma replied, her face going even paler, and Tara wondered why she looked so uncomfortable. 

“Complicated? What could be complicated about it? Call me old-fashioned but the two of you were there, so the two of you should be responsible. Or is it that you don’t even know who he is?”

Tara sighed inwardly. When upset, Isobel could be unnecessarily vindictive. Although not usually where Emma was concerned.

“Mum, I …” Emma seemed lost for words, obviously taken aback by her mother’s chastisement of her.

“Look, it’ll be OK,” Tara interjected softly, hoping to diffuse the situation. “Everything will be OK.”

“It certainly
will
be OK,” Isobel remarked, her tone brooking no nonsense. “As long as the fellow in question whoever he is, admits his responsibility and stands by you.”

Tara looked questioningly at Emma.

“That’s not going to happen, Mum,” Emma stated, her chin lifting in determination. “The father of this baby will have nothing to do with it.”

Tara’s heart sank even further in her chest.

“Emma –” said Isobel.

“Mum, as I said before, it’s complicated and I don’t
want to hear any more about it.” Emma’s voice was raised. “I’m sorry that this has happened – I didn’t want it to happen, and I certainly don’t need you making me feel any worse that I already do about it, OK?”

Isobel pursed her lips but said nothing more.

For a little while, the three women sat in the sun-filled kitchen, each lost in her own thoughts, Tara deciding that you didn’t need to be a life coach to figure out that something was very wrong here, and that Emma wasn’t giving them the entire picture. 

Why was she so insistent that the pregnancy be kept a secret from the father? Granted, if it was simply a one-night stand and she didn’t know the guy that well, fair enough, but didn’t she realise how difficult this was going to be without his help, financial or otherwise?