Last Chance Saloon (44 page)
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.’
‘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 panic-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.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Tara breathed tearfully. ‘I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. It’s been so long since anything positive has happened, I was fairly sure that, you know, there wasn’t much, um, you know, hope.’
‘I know.’
‘I’d kind of come to terms – well, not come to terms,’ she said hurriedly, ‘but if he didn’t ever get better, it wasn’t going to be a massive shock, do you know what I mean?’
Katherine nodded.
‘But this is brilliant!’ Tara’s eyes were shiny with tears.
‘I suppose we shouldn’t get too excited.’ Katherine struck a note of caution. ‘It’s such an unpredictable illness.’
‘Oh, come on, let’s get a
little
bit excited. Will we go over there now to see him?’
‘No.’ Katherine could hardly hide her impatience. ‘We’ll see him tomorrow. Go out on your date and have fun.’
She was keen to get rid of Tara because there was something she’d been dying to discuss with Joe since the previous day.
‘OK. See you later.’
‘Have a nice time. ‘Bye.’
The door slammed.
‘Joe?’
‘Mmmm.’
‘Did anything ever happen with you and Angie? Angie at work.’
Katherine felt him go very still, as though his blood had stopped flowing, then he moved and sat up properly on the couch. He looked at her and his face was sad.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ she lied, quickly. ‘It’s none of my business, really, but she saw us when we came in together yesterday morning and asked me if I was seeing you. And I said I wasn’t but she seemed upset. So… I wondered if anything happened with the two of you. Did it?’
He looked at her with infinite tenderness, then frowned as though in pain. He opened his mouth to speak and she watched, willing him to say no. ‘Yes,’ he said, and she felt a heavy stone plummet through her. Don’t overreact, she begged herself. Please don’t turn into a bunny-boiler.
‘How long?’ Her heart was pounding. ‘I mean, what happ – I mean, did you go out with each other for a long time? Were you in love?’
‘No.’ He said kind of wearily. ‘Nothing like that. It was just one night.’
One night was bad enough, she thought, her soul corroding with jealous agony. She thought of Angie’s lovely figure and wanted to kill Joe. And she had a horrible inkling she knew
which night it was too. That’s what made it so bad. The day after she’d accused him of sexual harassment he’d gone for a drink with Angie and shown up at the office the next day wearing the same clothes. She’d had a bad feeling then and she had a worse one now. On and off during the last five months she’d thought about asking Joe what had happened, but she hadn’t dared in case the answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But after seeing how upset Angie had been, she had no choice.
‘I shouldn’t have,’ Joe said, miserably. ‘It’s not the kind of thing I’d normally do. But I’m a human being and I make mistakes.’
‘I’m sure Angie Hiller wouldn’t like to hear of herself being referred to as a mistake,’ Katherine said haughtily.
‘No, I didn’t mean that. But getting involved with her was.’
‘Involved? I thought it was only one night.’
‘It was.’
‘Must have been pretty intense if you’re talking about being –’ she took a deep breath before spitting contemptuously
‘– involved
.’
‘It’s just a word. Obviously the wrong one.’
Katherine held her breath, waiting for him to tell her that all he’d done was kiss her or that he’d slept on the couch or that he’d been too drunk to perform. But he didn’t, so she asked, ‘So you slept with her?’
‘Yes.’
‘What I mean is, you had sex with her?’ She felt she was going to throw up.
He nodded. Yes.
Her seasick stomach churned faster. ‘And then you went around and told everyone to call her Gillette. That’s very mature, Joe.’
‘I didn’t.’ He looked alarmed and disgusted. ‘I don’t know who started that – Myles, probably – but it was nothing to do with me.’
‘Well, you obviously went around telling everyone you fucked her. Very nice, Joe!’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. Angie told Myles, if you must know.’
‘So did you see her again?’
‘Not in that way. The following morning we talked about it, I explained that I was sorry it happened and that it wouldn’t happen again.’
‘And how do you think she felt?’ A sharp, vicious little upsurge of rage maddened her. ‘You get her into bed, screw her, then tell her once is enough. How gentlemanly.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘For what?’ she said, coldly. ‘You’re a free agent.’
‘Please don’t be like this,’ he said, softly.
‘Like what?’
‘Why are you so angry? We weren’t seeing each other then. In fact, it was just after you implied I was sexually harassing you –’
I know
, she wanted to scream.
‘– and I thought you didn’t give a toss about me. And, to be honest, Katherine, I was really cut up –’
‘And what other way to deal with it than sleep with another woman. Oh, how like a man.’
‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ he repeated. ‘I was sorry it did. It’s no excuse but I was drunk and cut up. I was out of order, I was wrong, I made a mistake. People do.’
She clamped her mouth in a hard, cold line.
‘Everyone has a past, you know,’ he said, gently. ‘No one comes to a relationship with a clean slate.’
Still she wouldn’t speak. Then rent the silence by snarling, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I
tried
. But you told me that you didn’t want to discuss our past romances, remember?’
‘Yes, but… I only meant that I didn’t want to tell you about mine. I wanted to hear about yours.’
He sighed. ‘That’s not really fair, is it, Katherine?’
‘You told me about Lindsay,’ she accused, changing tack. ‘If you told me about Lindsay, why didn’t you tell me about Angie?’
‘I tried,’ he exclaimed. ‘But you told me you needed time and that you found it hard to trust. So I respected that. I tried not to push anything or move things too fast for you –’
‘How do you think I feel?’ she interrupted. ‘I’ve been going in to work day in, day out, and now I find out that Angie Hiller was having a good laugh at me all along because she slept with my boyfriend.’
‘But she didn’t know about us. And why would she laugh? You’re the one who’s my girlfriend, not Angie.’
‘Oh, so I’m the lucky one, am I?’ she sneered.
She knew she was out of control, that she was in danger of ruining everything, but she couldn’t stop herself. She heard the sour, spiky words spilling from her, felt them relieve and burn, but couldn’t stem the flow.
‘Katherine,’ he crooned, in a low voice, ‘if you’re worried that it would ever happen again or that I would ever be unfaithful to you, you are way, way wrong. I’m not just saying this now because you’re angry with me, but the way I feel about you is –’ Joe stopped. He’d thought he’d heard the sound of a key jiggling in the lock. Seconds later Tara burst into the room, with what seemed like an army of people. His heart sank. The sooner Tara got her own place the better.
As Joe tried to paste on a happy face for the visitors, Tara chattered enthusiastically, gesturing to the three people standing behind her. ‘We were just passing and I thought it might be nice for you to meet, because you’ve all heard about each other. This is Amy from my work and this is Benjy…’ She paused and mouthed exaggeratedly, ‘My fella,’ at Katherine and Joe, then discreetly clutched her stomach and rolled her eyes, indicating the desire to puke. And continued, ‘And this is…’
Then Joe got a shock. He recognized the third person. It was impossible not to. He almost filled the room with his huge shoulders and great height and long red hair. It was that spoilt-brat actor from the butter commercial, Lorcan something-or-other.
Lorcan had obviously recognized Joe also, because he interrupted the introductions by exclaiming, in loud surprise, ‘Hey, I know you.’
Joe sighed and braced himself for unpleasantness. Until something filled him with inexplicable fear. He’d followed the line of Lorcan’s gaze and saw that Lorcan wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to Katherine.
