Last Chance Saloon (39 page)

Wearily, she hung up her coat and traipsed to her desk. In the centre of which a parcel was placed. Wrapped in blue and gold Designers Guild wrapping paper, it clearly wasn’t a batch of new tax tables from the government printing office.

‘What’s this?’ she asked Charmaine.

‘Dunno, it was there when I got in.’

Katherine picked it up and felt it. Whatever was inside was soft and bendable.

‘Open it,’ Charmaine said.

‘OK…’ she said slowly, wondering whether she should be getting excited. Who would send something to her, other than Joe?

Careful not to tear the good paper, Katherine tried to undo the Sellotape.

‘Rip it off!’ Charmaine urged. ‘Go on, girl. Go crazy.’

So she did, and something white and plastic unfolded itself and flopped out.

‘Whut the…?’ Charmaine demanded.

Katherine looked at it and a broad smile slapped itself on her face.

‘What is it?
’ Charmaine was going mental.

‘It’s a mat to put on the floor of your bath.’ Katherine grinned. ‘To stop you slipping.’

Under her eyelashes she looked over at Joe, but he was very, very, very focused on whatever was on his screen. Very focused indeed. Katherine could almost see his neck muscles trembling with the exertion of not looking up at her.

‘Who’s it from?’ Charmaine asked suspiciously.

‘No idea.’

‘No note?’

‘No.’

‘Weirdos.’

But when Katherine switched on her computer she’d been sent an e-mail. Saying, ‘Just so we won’t slip next time.’

Quick as a flash she typed in, ‘When would you like to not slip?’ pressed Send and waited. Then wondered if she’d been too brazen.
Go on
, she silently urged Joe.
Reply to me
.

After about three minutes, she saw him clicking his mouse. Oh, yikes, he was opening the message, he was reading it! Then, his expression remaining resolutely deadpan and smooth, he typed something at high speed.

Katherine impatiently drummed her fingers, desperate for a new message to start flashing. When it did, her heart was pounding. ‘Would like to not slip asap. Let me know what suits you,’ it said.

She did some frantic calculations and sent back, ‘Wednesday night?’ She thought that was nice and casual.

Seconds later a new message appeared. ‘Am concerned I may slip. Wednesday night very far away.’

‘Understand concern. Tomorrow night?’ she replied.

‘Am concerned I may slip. Tomorrow night very far away,’ came the reply.

With fingers shaking with delight Katherine keyed in, ‘Understand concern. Tonight may be the safest option.’

Not once had they made eye-contact.

All day they were ultra polite whenever they had any dealings with each other. At one stage Joe was coming into the office while Katherine was going out. He stood back to let her pass and they took great care not to touch each other.

‘Excuse me,’ Katherine murmured.

‘By all means.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

At times Katherine felt she could barely contain the thrill of it all, like her skin was going to split open from too much excitement. She had to rub her legs together under her desk to disperse the overflow of joy. Sometimes, looking at Joe, tall and professional in his suit, she had a mad urge to stand up and shout out to the office, ‘I’ve seen Joe Roth in the noddy. I could describe every inch of him to you. And he’s bloody gorgeous!’

Katherine’s phone rang in the afternoon.

It was Tara. ‘I may have to ask you a favour.’

‘Ask away,’ Katherine said breezily. Nothing could faze her.

‘Can I move in with you?’

‘Oh. Oh, God.’

‘I’m so, so, so sorry,’ Tara said, abjectly. ‘I really pick my times, I know. There’s you with a new fella and you’ll be wanting to do it all over the place, and you’ve been celibate for two years and I could have left Thomas in any of that time, and I wait until now.’

‘Have you…
left
… Thomas?’

‘Not as such. But I’m going to after work. I’ll just move a carload of stuff tonight and Ravi’s organizing a van for the rest of my things later in the week.’

‘Well, I can hardly believe it. I’m delighted,’ Katherine blustered. Of
course
she was delighted, but of all the bloody times…

An hour later Joe sent Katherine an e-mail saying, ‘Further to our not slipping tonight, would you like to go to a restaurant, a bar, a cinema, a theatre, a chippy, a video shop, a night-club, a bowling alley, a Jacuzzi or my flat? Tick as preferred.’

And Katherine had to reply, ‘I’m afraid there’s been a slight change of plan. You see my friend Tara’s having a bit of a drama…’

Bundling her into his coat, he kissed her with violent relief.

‘I hope you weren’t followed,’ she said sternly.

‘I was, but I ran through a Chinese laundry and out the back.’

‘Into an alley filled with cardboard boxes?’

‘And hens. Then I legged it up a fire-escape and climbed through a window.’

‘Into a room where a man and woman were in bed together?’

‘Actually, I think it was a man and a man. So I doffed my hat politely and said, “Pardon me.” ’

‘And one of them said, “Did you see that?” and the other said, “See what?” ’

‘But I was gone!’

They laughed, giddy with the connection.

‘Thank you for the bathmat,’ she said, shyly.

‘When can we try it?’

She shook her head. ‘We’ll have to behave ourselves tonight because Tara could arrive with some of her worldly goods at any minute. Sorry. Definitely not what you were expecting.’

‘We can still go to the chippy and the video shop,’ he said gamely. ‘All isn’t lost.’

‘Yes, but …’ It was far too early for nights in with videos and takeaways. You had to be going out with each other for at least three weeks before that was acceptable. ‘I could try and cook something,’ she said, doubtfully.

‘I’d prefer if you didn’t.’

‘Oi!’

‘Don’t forget, Katherine, you told me ages ago that you can’t cook.’

‘Well, would you chance a cup of tea made by me?’

‘We can go one better than that.’ He fished a bottle of wine from his coat pocket. ‘Da-dah! Oddbins’ finest.’

‘Nice day yesterday?’ she called from the kitchen, as she fetched the corkscrew.

‘It began well.’ He sounded thoughtful. ‘But at about eleven it started to go downhill. And after that the only highlight was a trip to Homebase to buy a bathmat.’

‘You should have stayed here with me,’ she teased.

‘Should I?’ He sounded surprised. ‘I was well up for it, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.’

As she came back in, she hoped the relief didn’t show in her face. They walked up to the local chip shop. It had started to
rain. ‘From the Ivy to this in two short days,’ she observed, wryly, pushing open the door.

‘What will you have?’ Joe tempted, looking up at the plastic sign. ‘Sausage in batter? Chicken wings? Cheeseburger?’

‘Depends on what you’re having.’

‘Two saveloys and chips. And perhaps we could share a portion of onion rings?’

‘If I give you some of my smoked cod,’ she calculated, ‘can I have a bite of your saveloy?’

‘You can have as much as you want of my saveloy,’ he said, softly.

And suddenly the chip shop disappeared and there was just the two of them. Stock-still and gazing at each other, mute with magic union. Erno, behind the Formica and glass counter, paused from his banging and clattering, and contemplated crying. Young love. There was nothing like it.

They bought two cans of Tizer to go with the food and Erno threw in four free sachets of ketchup and a pickled egg. His way of toasting their happiness and wishing them well.

Then to the video shop where Joe immediately picked out
Roman Holiday
. ‘Do you remember? The day we had lunch?’ He stopped and squirmed. ‘The day I
bullied
you into having lunch.’

It was her turn to squirm. ‘You didn’t bully me.’

‘Anyway, we were talking about a rainy night in, watching a black and white film on the telly, and we both said
Roman Holiday
. Remember?’

Of course she remembered, but she just said, ‘Did we? Oh, OK.’

At nine thirty they’d finished watching the video, Tara still
hadn’t arrived and it was getting harder and harder to keep their hands off each other.

‘We can’t.’ Katherine reluctantly broke off a passionate kiss. ‘Tara’s bound to arrive at a vital moment!’

‘OK,’ Joe squeaked, his heart pounding. When his voice returned to normal he asked, ‘So why’s she leaving her boy friend?’

Leaking little bits of information, Katherine ended up telling him the whole lot about Thomas and what a creep he was. Then Joe told Katherine about Lindsay, the girl he’d gone out with for three years.

‘Who ended it?’ Katherine tried to sound casual.

‘Saatchi and Saatchi.’ Joe laughed. ‘She got a great job in New York,’ he explained. ‘But we were kind of on the way out anyway.’

‘Were you …’ she hesitated ‘ …
wounded?
’

‘Yes. But you know what they say.’

‘What
do
they say?’

‘Time wounds all heals.’

Then Katherine told Joe about Fintan and his cancer.

‘One day at work you had a little weep,’ Joe asked awkwardly. ‘You were doing my expenses and you said you’d had bad news. Was it the news about Fintan?’

Vaguely she said, ‘I suppose it must have been.’ No point letting him know that she’d catalogued every contact they’d ever had.

Next she found herself telling him about Milo, JaneAnn and Timothy, how funny they were about London. And how Milo and Liv had fallen for each other, even though Liv was a style goddess and Milo had lived in a pair of worn dungarees until recently.

‘Dungarees!’ Joe exclaimed. Perhaps the bloke he’d seen Katherine with one day was just Fintan’s brother.

‘Yes, dungarees.’ Katherine was puzzled. ‘I didn’t think they were only an Irish thing. They’re kind of blue overalls with a bib front –’

‘I know,’ Joe grinned. ‘And what does this Milo do for a living?’

‘He’s a farmer.’ What an odd question.

‘He’s not in a band or anything?’

‘Who, Milo? You must be joking.’

At eleven o’clock the phone rang. To Katherine’s surprise it was Tara.

‘Where are you?’

‘Still at home. Lost my nerve,’ Tara said miserably. ‘I’m sorry I’ve ruined your evening.’

‘You haven’t, Tara. I’ve had a lovely time. Don’t worry.’

‘I might get the nerve to do it tomorrow night.’

‘Whenever.’

Katherine slammed down the phone. It was an ill wind. ‘She’s not coming. So it’s all systems go on the bath mat!’

She’d left work early. She wanted everything packed and ready to go, so that she could say her piece, then leave.

She’d fallen at the final hurdle the night before, still unable to come to terms with the hugeness of leaving her boyfriend and home and condemning herself to a life of lonely spinsterhood. It seemed so much easier to put up and shut up. What’s a little self-respect between lovers?

And naturally enough Thomas had been very nice to her, as if he’d suspected that something was afoot. Telling her she looked like she’d lost a bit of weight. Offering to cook her dinner. So every time she opened her mouth to tell him she was leaving, her head swam with disbelief and the whole idea seemed like lunacy.

But in relentless two-steps-forward-and-one-step-back fashion, Tara was finally ready. She’d been sweeping things under the carpet for a very long time, and it was no longer an option. Arming herself with images of all the times he’d made her feel like dirt, she was ready to do battle. Every now and then a new memory would pop up, filling her with fresh, furious resolve. She wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him as he’d humiliated her. As she’d
let
him humiliate her.

She heard the crackle of his key in the door and her mouth went dry. Worn out from a hard day’s berating teenagers, he barely looked at her as he flung his (brown) satchel on the (brown) couch.

Then he became aware that something funny was going on. An unusual atmosphere. And why was Tara standing in the middle of the room? Why wasn’t she sitting down? And where had the books gone? Had they been burgled?

‘Thomas?’

‘What?’

‘I’ve something to tell you.’

‘Go on, then.’

‘I’m leaving you.’

He groaned. ‘Aw, Tara, what’s bludeh up with you lately? I’ve had a hard day and I don’t want to get into some premenstrual girly discussion with you.’

‘I think you misunderstand. There’s nothing to discuss. I’m leaving you. Now.’

He did his goldfish face. He goggled. ‘Why?’ was all he could manage.

‘Let’s see,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘Could it be because you’re needlessly cruel? Or pathologically stingy? Or a mad control freak? Or just because you’re a horrible person, and I really dislike you? It’s hard to know for sure, Thomas. All I know is, I must have been out of my mind to have stayed with you for the past two years.’

His face went whiter and whiter with each sentence. ‘But …’ he protested, shaking from this unprovoked attack. ‘It’s just my way. I speak as I find, but I love you and anything I said was for your own good.’

‘You know,’ she realized, ‘I really think you need some sort of counselling or therapy. Your attitude to women is messed up.’

‘Crap.’ Thomas’s tone was scornful. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the first time something like this had been suggested by a girlfriend …

‘You don’t even like me,’ Tara said.

‘Course I do.’

‘You don’t. You’d have been a lot nicer if you did.’

Then, for the first time, Thomas noticed the bags and boxes at Tara’s feet and made the connection between them and the empty shelves. Books, videos, CDs, all gone. He was jolted to the core. ‘Are they –’ He pointed. ‘Have they your things in them?’

‘Some of them. I’ll be back for the rest during the week.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

Tara had to admit he looked gratifyingly dazed.

‘Where would you go?’

‘I
am
going,’ she emphasized, ‘to Katherine’s.’

‘Katherine’s?’

‘For a while anyway,’ she said, breezily. ‘Then I’ll see about buying my own place.’

‘Own place?’

‘Is there an echo in here?’ She looked around.

‘We can talk about this,’ he tried valiantly. Now that she actually seemed to be leaving, he suddenly desperately wanted her. He was that seven-year-old boy again.

‘We’ve already talked.’

‘When?’

‘The night of my birthday, for example. When you said you’d ditch me if I got pregnant.’

‘Oh, that.’

‘And last Friday night, when I suggested we get married.’

‘I didn’t think you were serious,’ he muttered.

‘Exactly!’

‘Tara, don’t go.’ He paused. ‘Love,’ he tried tentatively.

Her resolution wobbled. He’d never called her ‘love’ before.

‘I’ll admit that I’ve not always been good to you,’ he beseeched.

‘Could you say that again, please?’

‘I’ll admit I’ve not always been good to you,’ he repeated, a little sullenly.

‘That’s a good one.’ She laughed darkly. ‘You’ve not always been good to me. That’s one way of putting it.’

‘Hey. No one forced you to stay with me.’

‘I know.’ She grinned. ‘Mortifying, isn’t it? Believe it or not, I’m far angrier with myself than I am with you.’

‘How could you do this to me?’ His face had caved in.

‘How many times do I have to tell you? Because you’re
awful
.’

‘But you know why. I
told
you why. Cos of me mam leaving I find it hard to trust a woman. This is just like that Sunday morning. Coming in and finding the bags packed, it were awful, Tara.’

‘Oh, change the record!’

Thomas just couldn’t believe it. His wound, which he’d nurtured and protected, watered and nourished, was being disregarded in such a disrespectful fashion. It was his most precious commodity, enabling him to get people to behave the way he wanted them to. How dare this fat cow …!

‘Oh, now I get it,’ he said furiously. ‘You’ve met some other bloke. That’s what this is all about.’

‘I have not. It’s nothing to do with anyone else. It’s to do with you. And me, unfortunately.’

‘That Ravi. I bet you’re shagging him.’

‘I’m not shagging anyone.’

He looked at her bitterly. ‘No. I suppose you’re not. Who’d have you?’

‘That’s my Thomas. Well, goodbye.’ She put on her coat. ‘It’s been real. Real horrible, that is.’

Stunned, he watched her heft up the bags and boxes and carry them to her car. As she came back for a second load his eyes widened in shock. ‘Hey. Leave my bludeh coffee table alone!’

‘Whose
coffee table?’

‘Mine.’

‘Who paid for it?’

He didn’t answer.

‘I did. So, Thomas,’ she said triumphantly, ‘it’s
my
bludeh coffee table.’