Staying at Daisy's (28 page)

‘Tara? Oh, there you are! Phone call for you.’ Pam burst into the ladies’ loo looking harassed. ‘I really shouldn’t have to chase around the hotel like this,’ she went on crossly. ‘I told him personal calls were frowned on but he insisted it was an emergency.’

Tara immediately stopped polishing the gilt-framed oval mirror she had been admiring herself in. It was perfectly true that personal calls were frowned on, but only by Pam. Who, incidentally, regarded her as a bit of a trollop.

Huh, chance would be a fine thing.

But who on earth could be phoning her here at the hotel? Even more thrillingly, who had phoned and actually managed to persuade pompous Pam to get off her fat bottom for once and come and find her?

Good grief, it couldn’t be Andy, could it? Overcome with remorse and ringing to tell her he’d made the most terrible mistake and if she could possibly forgive him he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her?

Maybe not. Let’s face it, it was far more likely to be her fire-breathing bank manager.

Yuk, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to take the call now.

‘Did he sound nice?’ Tara said warily. ‘Or mean?’

Pam huffed and flicked back her heavily lacquered hair—which wasn’t going
anywhere—
with irritation.

‘It took me long enough to find you.’
You hussy
, Tara mentally inserted at this point. ‘Why don’t you go and find out for yourself?’

Reaching the reception desk, Tara took the phone Pam was holding out to her like a nun handing over a vibrator.

‘
If
he hasn’t hung up by now,’ Pam commented, not so
sotto voce
and clearly hoping he had.

‘Hello?’ said Tara.

‘About bloody time too,’ crackled a voice that made her heart lollop in a rabbity fashion.

‘Oh! It’s you!’ Her fingers convulsively tightened around the receiver. Dominic!

He sounded amused. ‘Who were you expecting, the Inland Revenue?’

‘Much worse.’ Tara heaved a gusty sigh of relief. ‘My bank manager.’

This time he laughed, and she realized that when you were married to a multimillionairess it wasn’t a scenario you were likely to be familiar with. Crikey, in Dominic’s position your bank manager probably sent you expensive Christmas cards. And signed them with love and kisses.

‘Look, sorry to ring you at work, but I’ve had an idea.’ He paused for effect. ‘How d’you fancy booking into a hotel for the night and being spoiled rotten? Romantic dinner, candlelight, champagne, the works.’

The rabbit in her chest was running a marathon. Breathlessly, Tara said, ‘Sounds… interesting. Who with?’

He was smiling, she could tell. ‘Me. But only if you want to.’

The whole night together. Spoiled rotten.
The works…

‘What about, um…?’

‘Annabel’s away visiting an old schoolfriend. She’s staying in London, coming back tomorrow afternoon. So,’—Dominic’s tone was playful—‘how about it?’

There was no contest, even if Pam hadn’t been there emitting chilly waves of disapproval and visibly willing her to get off the phone.

‘OK,’ whispered Tara.

‘That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up at six, usual place. Better go now,’ Dominic said cheerfully. ‘Bye, sweetheart.’

‘Bye.’ Tara put the phone down, her thoughts darting helplessly in all directions. This was it, then. The one thing Daisy had warned her not to do. It was going to happen… how could it not happen? Oh my Lord, a night in a hotel! Just like a real couple—

‘Oh, there you are, Mr Tyzack,’ Pam exclaimed, sending a shiver down Tara’s spine. ‘That parcel you were waiting for just arrived ten minutes ago!’

Dev crossed the hall and smiled briefly at Tara. As he reached for the package Pam was holding out to him, he said, ‘Have you seen Daisy this morning?’

Tara shook her head. She didn’t want to see Daisy either. God, she’d do her best to talk her out of meeting Dominic tonight. And as for Dev, what would
he
say if he knew?

‘You look a bit flushed,’ he commented.

The trick, she decided, was not to appear guilty. She was tarty Tara, flirty but essentially harmless.

‘Probably just the excitement,’ she smiled sunnily back at him, ‘of standing next to you.’

***

When Barney pushed open the front door of the cottage, he saw the cases in the middle of the living-room floor. Moments later, Mel struggled down the stairs clutching a couple of stuffed carrier bags in one hand and Freddie in the other.

‘What are you doing?’ said Barney.

‘What does it look like? Saving you the trouble of telling me to leave.’ White-faced but determined, Mel added the carriers to the pile and lowered Freddie gently to the floor next to them. Straightening up, she said, ‘This is what you want, isn’t it? Us, out of your life. You’re ashamed of me, disgusted by what I did, and you don’t want anything more to do with us. Well, Barney, that’s fine, that’s absolutely fine by me, and you don’t have to worry about me doing anything embarrassing like begging you to change your mind, because I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve just got to pack the rest of Freddie’s things and we’ll be off. If you want to ring a taxi now, that’ll save a bit of time. We can be out of here in twenty minutes.’

‘Mel—’

‘One more thing,’ she cut in, her eyes diamond-bright. ‘Just let me say this. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry if I upset Daisy. But don’t ever,
ever
expect me to be sorry I had Freddie.’

Helplessly, Barney shook his head. ‘I don’t expect you to do that. Of course you aren’t sorry about Freddie.’

‘Good. Thank you. I’m glad we’ve got that straight.’ Mel gazed for several seconds down at her son, who was playing happily with a disposable nappy from one of the carrier bags. Freddie flashed them both a naughty, gappy grin and plonked the nappy bonnet-style on his head.

‘Just as well it’s a clean one,’ said Barney.

‘I’ll just get the rest of his things.’ Mel turned to head back up the stairs.

‘Don’t.’ He put out his arm to stop her.

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t want you to go. You don’t have to go.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. ‘Daisy says it’s OK, you can stay.’

‘I don’t believe you. Daisy hates me. She doesn’t want me here.’

Barney hesitated, because this was certainly true. ‘Well, she might not
want
you here, but she isn’t going to drive you out of the village. She says she’ll cope with it, as long as you… well, keep out of her way.’

‘Jump into a hedge, you mean, if I see her coming down the road towards me?’

‘Just be discreet, that’s what she means. Don’t expect to be invited to any parties up at the hotel. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?’ Barney pleaded, because Mel was looking truculent. ‘I think it’s brilliant of her. We can cope with that, can’t we?’

Mel looked at him, torn. Half of her accepted that it was a decent offer, but the other half violently resented his attitude.

‘Oh yes, it’s fantastic, Daisy’s so wonderful, she says I’m allowed to stay in the village—even though it isn’t actually
her
village—but what about
you
?’ she demanded bluntly. ‘Barney, she doesn’t
own
you. If she’d said I had to go, that would have been it for us. I’d leave with Freddie, you’d stay here, and you’d never have seen us again. I don’t want us to still be together because Daisy MacLean says we can be, and I’m sure as hell not going to spend the rest of my life being
grateful
to her.’

‘Sshh.’ Barney smiled and shook his head. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I told Daisy we were leaving Colworth. I said I couldn’t give you up. And I meant it. I wouldn’t stay here without you and Freddie. And Daisy knew I was serious. That’s when she said it seemed a shame to leave the cottage after I’d worked so hard to do it up.’

‘Oh.’ Mel relaxed, relief washing over her. ‘Well, that’s true.’

‘So we aren’t going anywhere,’ said Barney. ‘We’re staying right here.’

‘OK.’ As he wrapped his arms round her, she could hear the frantic thudding of his heart against her cheek.

‘I love you,’ Barney murmured.

The crisis was over. She hadn’t lost him after all.

‘I love you too,’ whispered Mel.

***

Tara’s stomach was in knots. She was ridiculously excited. This was brilliant. The hotel, small but romantic, was in Clevedon because Dominic didn’t know anyone who either lived or worked in Clevedon. He had gone in ahead of her and given the place a quick once-over while she waited in the car, just to be on the safe side.

And—hooray—it had been safe. For once, nothing was going to go wrong. And about time too, Tara thought joyfully as they were shown up to their room.

‘At last,’ Dominic echoed this sentiment when the porter had gone, leaving them alone together. With a whoop of triumph, he scooped Tara up into his arms, twirled her round the room and deposited her, with a thud, on the huge bed. Jumping on top of her, he covered her face and neck with kisses, scrabbled at the buttons on her shirt, and slavered lasciviously at the sight of her beautiful turquoise bra.

‘You pillock,’ Tara giggled, pushing him off. ‘You’re going to have to be much more romantic than that. I want to be wined and dined and made a
huge
fuss of, before we get down to any hanky-panky.’

‘Of course you do.’ Dominic gave her a soulful look. ‘And of course I will.’ Pause, followed by a grin. ‘But how about a quickie first, just to whet our appetites?’

Letting out a shriek as he lunged at the waistband of her skirt, she rolled out of reach and scrambled into a kneeling position.

‘I’m too hungry. I’m
starving
.’ Tara patted her empty stomach, which obligingly growled. ‘I rushed home from work, had a bath, got ready, and threw some clothes into a bag. I haven’t eaten a thing since lunchtime. We have to have dinner first,’ she insisted. ‘Otherwise I’ll just faint.’

In response. Dominic kissed her very gently on the mouth, caressing her lower lip with his tongue before pulling away with regret.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said. ‘Whatever you want.’

Tara was filled with triumph and delight. There, she
wasn’t
a pushover!

If Daisy could see her now, she’d be so proud.

Apart from stiffening slightly whenever anyone new entered the dining room—which was only natural, Tara felt, under the circumstances—Dominic had kept his word. There was excellent wine and plenty of it, there was food, ornately presented on hexagonal silver-rimmed plates, and there was candlelight. The mood was romantic, the staff efficient but unobtrusive. Tara was in heaven. The only shame was her loss of appetite; having been absolutely ravenous earlier, she was now so keyed up she could barely eat a thing.

Luckily Dominic wasn’t offended. He took it as a compliment.

‘Did you manage to get off work tomorrow?’

Tara smiled and nodded. She’d persuaded one of the other girls to switch shifts, which meant they didn’t have to check out of the hotel at some unearthly hour.

‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Dominic observed.

‘I’m fine.’ Reaching over, she gave his hand a squeeze. ‘It’s just…’

‘Don’t tell me, that conscience of yours. Sweetheart, you know how I feel about you. I married the wrong girl.’ Dominic kept his voice low, though the tables in the restaurant were widely spaced. ‘I made a mistake. We’ll sort it out, I promise you.’

Tara had been about to tell him she couldn’t manage any more wine, but never mind. It was only right that they should discuss his marriage.

‘How’s it been with Annabel in the last week?’

Soberly, Dominic shook his head. ‘No change. Like sharing the house with a stranger. I do my best, but she just won’t… well, help herself.’

‘Still no…?’

‘Sex? You must be joking.’ He shrugged. ‘Annabel’s not interested.’

It was no way for a man to live. Tara felt desperately sorry for Dominic, but it was sad for Annabel too.

‘What about counseling? There are these sex therapy people. Couldn’t you persuade her to see someone about it?’ Oh my, listen to me, discussing my lover’s wife’s sexual problems. This definitely makes me a generous, caring person.

‘She wouldn’t do that.’ Dominic grimaced at the thought. ‘Annabel? No way in the world. She’d refuse outright.’

Tara was secretly relieved. Making helpful grown-up suggestions was all very well, but she’d be miffed if Dominic were to ring her up next week yelling excitedly, ‘It worked, it bloody worked! Since she came back from the sex therapist she hasn’t been able to keep her hands off me—sweetheart, I’m telling you, she’s dynamite!’

God, imagine. That would be downright unfair.

‘Oh, Dominic, what are you going to do?’ It was such a hopeless situation. Tara gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

‘Stick it out for a few more months.’ Dominic looked resigned. ‘For appearance’s sake. If it was up to me I’d leave tomorrow, but that wouldn’t be fair on Annabel. She’d never get over the humiliation.’

He was so kind-hearted, that was what she loved about him. How many men would be that thoughtful?

‘Sorry.’ Tara smiled up at the waitress who had arrived to clear their plates. ‘The food’s great—I’m just not hungry.’

‘What about pudding?’ To tempt her, Dominic nodded at an adjacent table. ‘They’ve got chocolate mousse.’

Chocolate mousse was Tara’s great weakness, but her stomach was still all of a squiggle. Nerves were getting the better of her. Regretfully she shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could.’

Pushing back his chair, Dominic stood up and took Tara’s hand. As they made their way out of the dining room he whispered in her ear, ‘We’ve got something far better to look forward to than chocolate mousse.’

Tara, leaning against him, experienced a hot wave of something that felt almost like…

***

Nausea. It was nausea, and no matter how hard she tried, Tara couldn’t make it go away. Back in their room, Dominic had started to kiss her and she’d done her best to join in with enthusiasm, but the smell of his aftershave, which she normally loved, was making her feel sicker by the minute. She was hot too. Breaking out into a sweat in a way that wasn’t pleasant.

‘God, you’re beautiful,’ Dominic murmured, unzipping her dress in one smooth movement and sliding the straps from her shoulders. Tara instantly felt cold and clammy, and was forced to take deep breaths to lessen the sick feeling in her stomach. Assuming that the heavy breathing was a sign of rapture, Dominic steered her over to the bed.

He stood back and gazed in admiration at Tara in her peacock-blue bra and (naturally) matching knickers. Instinctively pulling in her stomach, she winced as a jagged pain like a knife being waggled shot through her intestines.

In an instant Tara realized what was about to happen. Oh no, oh please, God,
nooo…

‘So beautiful, so sexy,’ Dominic whispered, reaching out and tracing his fingers over the lacy plunging cups of her bra. ‘I’ve waited so long for this.’

The knotted stomach and inability to eat hadn’t been nerves. The almost-but-not-quite-feeling-sick sensation hadn’t been due to guilt. Tara closed her eyes and the room began to spin around her, tilting crazily like some sadistic fairground ride.

‘Mmmph,’ she spluttered as Dominic’s mouth landed on hers while his hands simultaneously moved to unfasten her bra. The nausea rose up like a whirling dervish and she yanked herself free, covering her mouth and racing past an astonished Dominic to the bathroom.

The next five minutes were the very,
very
worst of Tara’s life. She retched and vomited, noisily and messily, until there was nothing left to bring up.

Finally, she heard Dominic call through the locked bathroom door: ‘Tara? Are you OK?’

Oh, I’m
fine
, darling, never felt better. What I really fancy now is a chocolate fudge milkshake and a ride on Nemesis!

Tara didn’t say this, she was too busy dying of embarrassment. If there was anything less sexy and alluring than the sound of a woman being sick, she didn’t know what it was.

Within thirty seconds she found out. The knife-like pains in her stomach intensified, her bowels turned to water and she only just made it onto the loo in time.

After goodness knows how long—twenty minutes probably—Tara regained sufficient control of her bodily functions to stumble over to the sink and look in the mirror. Not a pretty sight. She was wearing her bra and knickers. Her eyes were swollen, her face blotchy and her hair stringy with sweat. Ridiculously, she still had her red stilettos on her feet.

Her legs trembling and weak, Tara cleaned her teeth, washed her face, and wrapped a bath towel round her shoulders because she couldn’t stop shivering. The ominous cramping in her stomach was still there. The loo must feel as exhausted as she did from being flushed so many times. Oh God, how was she ever going to be able to face Dominic again?

Through the bathroom door—the
flimsy
bathroom door—she could hear the murmur of voices. Hopefully the TV, rather than an impromptu gathering waiting for her to emerge before popping a dozen champagne corks and yelling ‘Surprise!’

Oh well, she could hardly spend the night sleeping in the bath. Taking a deep breath, Tara unlocked the door and stepped out.

Dominic was lying on the bed, fully dressed and watching television. He turned his head to look at her.

‘Better now?’

Miserably, Tara nodded. Her stomach was still sore. Her eyelids were so swollen she could hardly see. She had never felt less desirable in her life.

Which was just as well, really, seeing as Dominic wasn’t looking exactly inflamed with desire himself.

Her green satin dressing gown was in her suitcase. Dragging it out, Tara kicked off the incongruous stilettos and pulled the dressing gown on. Not knowing what to do next, she hesitantly approached the bed.

Maybe if you’d been married to someone for a hundred years, they’d be able to take the situation in their stride. Perhaps even crack a joke about it, laugh it off, and give you the kind of reassuring hug that told you they understood and still loved you anyway.

Dominic turned his attention back to the TV, picked up the remote, and changed stations.

‘I’m sorry.’ As Tara sank down on the edge of the bed, she could have sworn he shrank away. So this was how it felt to have leprosy.

After a long pause, Dominic said, ‘What caused it?’

Sadly, Tara had already worked this one out for herself.

‘I had a tuna sandwich for lunch. I thought it tasted a bit funny, but I hadn’t brought anything else into work and I was hungry so I just ate it. I made it last night at home,’ she admitted miserably, ‘and forgot to put it in the fridge.’

‘Jesus,’ Dominic muttered, indicating that he thought she was stupid beyond belief.

‘I thought it’d be OK. The cottage was quite cold.’ Tara was defensive because last night for the first time in ages Maggie hadn’t had every radiator going full blast in a frantic attempt to dry a ton of washing.

Bloody
washing.

‘Well, it obviously wasn’t.’ Dominic was sounding seriously pissed off, and Tara couldn’t blame him. ‘So what do we do now?’ he went on tetchily. ‘Because I’m not really in the mood for—’

‘Nor me,’ Tara hurriedly cut in, before he could tell her how physically revolted he was by her traitorous body.

‘Shall we just go home, then?’

It was what she wanted more than anything, but to Tara’s dismay her stomach was starting to churn ominously once more. Even at this time of night, the drive back to Colworth would take an hour and the prospect of an in-car accident was too terrible to contemplate.

‘I’m still not feeling… I don’t know if I could… well, cope with the journey.’

Dominic nodded and picked up the bedside phone. He spoke to the receptionist downstairs about booking a second room.

‘The hotel’s full,’ he announced shortly, hanging up. ‘Every room’s taken.’

This was a nightmare.

‘You could go home,’ Tara whispered, because it was clearly what he longed to do. ‘I’ll stay here.’

‘Maybe that’d be best.’ Dominic looked faintly exasperated as her shoulders began to shake. ‘Oh Christ, don’t start crying. What’s wrong now?’

What’s wrong now?

Hot tears streamed down Tara’s face and dripped off her chin. ‘It’s all s-spoiled! I’m sorry I’ve messed everything up but I d-didn’t do it on purpose… and I feel so
rotten
,’ she wailed, wiping her eyes with the slippery sleeve of her dressing gown. ‘I really feel ill and I don’t w-want to b-be on my own!’

Pathetic, utterly pathetic, but true. If she was at home, Maggie would be making a huge fuss of her now, tucking her up in bed, sponging her forehead, and being generally caring and wonderful.

Keeping his distance, Dominic gingerly patted her heaving shoulder.

‘OK,’ he sighed. ‘I won’t go.’

Tara didn’t dare turn round and hug him. She sniffed noisily. ‘Th-thanks.’

***

They checked out at eight o’clock the next morning. Tara had never felt emptier in her life. If she weighed herself, she’d probably find she’d lost five stone. Her whole body was as hollow as a cheap Easter egg. She’d spent the night dozing fitfully, then waking up and hurtling to the bathroom. Dominic, needless to say, hadn’t got much sleep either.

But at least she felt safe enough to risk the journey home. Dominic seemed relieved too. She’d never known it was possible before for two people to lie that far apart from each other in a double bed.

It had been a night neither of them would ever forget.

They drove back to Colworth in silence. When Dominic dropped her off at the bottom of the High Street, he didn’t kiss her. Tara was convinced she still smelled of sick, despite having brushed her teeth so hard she’d splayed all the bristles on her toothbrush.

‘I’ll give you a ring.’ He glanced at his watch as he spoke, indicating that he was in a hurry to get away.

‘OK.’ Tara wondered if he meant it. Had she put him off her for good, or would the hideousness of last night fade in time, like childbirth? For about the hundredth time she mumbled, ‘Sorry.’

Nodding, Dominic managed his first smile of the day. Just a flicker of one. He said, ‘So am I.’