‘Fuck Joe.’
Tara gasped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Joe slept with a girl from work.’
‘Oh, no. Oh, no. Please tell me you’re joking.’
‘I’m not joking.’
‘He just didn’t seem the type. And he seemed to be crazy about you. Men, they’re all bastards, every single last one of them. And has it been going on all the time you’ve been seeing him?’
Katherine opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. Ah, feck it, there was no getting around it, she had to tell the truth. ‘Well, it actually happened before I got off with him. But all the same. He never told me, and I’ve been working in the same office –’
‘No, just one moment. Can we have a reality check here? Katherine, have you gone mental? You’re annoyed because he slept with someone before you got off with him? Did you expect him to be a virgin? Saving himself for you?’
‘No, but –’
‘You’ve slept with other people, Beaker from The Muppet Show, to take one example. You’ve no right to complain if Joe did too. Oh, come on! Show me a person who doesn’t have a past and I’ll show you a boring bastard.’
Katherine hitched and carelessly let fall her shoulders.
‘This isn’t anything to do with meeting Lorcan?’ Alarm mushroomed in Tara. ‘You’re not hoping to, um, start up with him again? Because that would be pure lunacy, Katherine.’
‘I know.’
‘It was twelve and a half years ago. A lifetime. He’s got a girlfriend, you’ve got Joe.’
‘If Joe rings,’ Katherine said, with cold finality, ‘I won’t speak to him, got that?’
‘Until when?’
‘I’ll decide when.’
‘But –’
‘It’s my flat.’
And that was the end of it.
Joe rang several times the following morning and left messages on the answering-machine. ‘Please talk to me, Katherine,’ he asked, his politeness not hiding his desperation.
Tara found it excruciating to listen to. ‘Come on,’ she said at two o’clock. ‘We’ve to go to Fintan’s.’
‘Go out?’ Katherine looked startled. ‘I’m not going out.’
‘But… Why not? Don’t you want to see his lumps? Or, rather, the lack of them?’
‘Not today.’
‘But, Katherine, we’ve been waiting six months for him to improve. It’s finally happened. Don’t you care?’
‘Yes, but I don’t want to go today. Sorry.
‘I am sorry,’ she added, with seeming sincerity.
‘Katherine, please let me help,’ Tara begged. ‘You’re being so weird. Just talk to me, would you?’
‘Go on your own. Give Fintan a kiss from me. I’ll see him soon.’
Her heart heavy with foreboding, Tara finally left, and Katherine exhaled with relief.
She was glad of the solitude. Though she knew she was behaving oddly, it was as if she was observing herself from afar and was powerless to intervene, like watching a wind-up doll which whirs about randomly, banging into doors and walls, mindless of its safety. She’d spent so long fantasizing about Lorcan that she couldn’t believe he’d been delivered into her lap. The shock was disconnecting. Though more than a decade had passed, she’d never really felt it was over. He was unfinished business and because the past had shaped the present, it was more important than the present.
Over the years she’d acted out many, many scenarios in her head. In most of them Lorcan prostrated himself with apologies, she made him suffer for a while, then forgave him. In the other version he cockily assumed he could take up where he left off and, with a selection of well-practised glares and pithy put-downs, she annihilated him.
She intended that when Lorcan came back – and she was convinced he would be back in the next day or so – she’d be the person in control. The ending would be rewritten, this time to suit her. Even if she wasn’t sure if it was the one where she rejected him scathingly or rode off into the sunset with him. Possibly both.
The one thing she was sure of was that the current ending wouldn’t do. Images of that last terrible scene with him assailed her and even now she winced at the very memory.
‘We have to get married.’ Katherine’s eyes were fixed on Lorcan’s face.
‘Why?’
She paused and flicked a glance around the pub. She’d thought a public place would be better to tell him her news in, but now she wasn’t so sure. ‘Because,’ she swallowed, and could hardly continue, ‘because I’m going to have a baby.’ Though she knew Lorcan wouldn’t do a runner on her, she couldn’t help being nervous because mythology held that men were likely to make for the hills around this delicate time. But she calmed herself with the thought that runners only happened to stupid, careless girls and no one was as careful as she. ‘Say something,’ she urged, anxiously. ‘Are you angry? If you are, you’ve no right to be, it takes two to tango…’
But he didn’t look angry, just weary. ‘I can’t marry you,’ he said, in pity and exasperation.
‘Why not?’ Her voice was high and her eyes were sunk like wells into the white landscape of her terrified face.
‘Because,’ he sighed, getting irritated, ‘I’m already married.’
She almost passed out. With a roaring in her ears, the pub receded, transformed into a vision of Hell. As she watched Lorcan, his face changed from something familiar and desirable into a picture of the devil. His handsome mouth thinned into a cruel line, his exquisite nose became a pointy hatchet, his purple-brown eyes turned into red coals. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, because she didn’t.
‘I’m already married,’ he snapped, guilt making him bad-tempered. ‘I can’t marry you because I’m already married.’
‘You can’t be married,’ she insisted, trying to wade out of the nightmare. ‘You never said.’
‘Oh, come on. You must have known.’
‘I didn’t. I’d never have gone to… done the…’
‘Oh, I see, you were trying to trap me into marrying you by getting pregnant,’ Lorcan accused, desperate to turn the tables.
‘No, I wasn’t,’ she defended herself, her breath coming in squeaky, shallow gasps, ‘but I thought if we went, um, if we went,’ she forced herself to go on, ‘if we went to bed that you were going to marry me.’
‘Well, I wasn’t and I’m not. I can’t, you see,’ he added, in gentler tones.
‘I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it,’ Katherine muttered over and over, her face in her hands. Katherine Casey did not get impregnated by a man who wouldn’t marry her. It simply wasn’t part of her plan.
She peeked her face out at him. ‘We’ll have to live together. Starting from now.’ It was far from ideal, eminently unrespectable, but it would have to do. ‘I mean,’ she blustered, ‘I presume you’re separated from your wife.’
He exhaled heavily. ‘You presume wrong.’
Again she thought she was going to black out.
‘I don’t necessarily mean a legal separation.’ She was grasping at straws. ‘But you’re not together-together, are you?’
‘We live together, if that’s what you mean.’ Lorcan was looking at the door and wondering how soon he could escape.
‘What do you mean?’ she shrieked. ‘I’ve been in your flat. There was no wife there.’
‘She was away.’
‘Away?’ Katherine asked, dazedly. She remembered the plants, the spice rack, the bowls of pot-pourri dotted around the place. She’d thought Lorcan had put them there.
‘Yes, she was away those times you came over,’ Lorcan confirmed, worn out.
Katherine couldn’t speak, she could hardly breathe as the enormity of the information began to trickle through. You’re a mistress. A mistress! How on earth did that happen?
It was at times like this that Lorcan wished he’d kept his willy to himself. He’d enjoyed his time with Katherine, she was sweet. And he’d marvelled at his master-craftmanship as he’d wooed her at just the right
rate, but right now he wasn’t sure if all this fall-out was worth it. And for her to be pregnant – Jesus, what a mess! One he wanted to get as far away from as possible.
Through the murk of sweaty terror Katherine saw a solution of sorts. ‘You’ll just have to leave your wife immediately. Come on,’ she said crisply, gathering confidence, ‘I’ll come with you to tell her. We’ll go now.’
Already she was gathering her bag and jacket and Lorcan was filled with panic. Sometimes Katherine could be so forceful, pushy even, as she reshaped the world into a version that suited her. Lorcan didn’t want to leave his wife, not yet, anyway. Despite his occasional infidelities, he was very attached to Fiona. They suited each other. Not to mention that she bankrolled him.
He was appalled at the idea of living with Katherine and – God above – a baby. Katherine would have him trapped in suburbia, cutting grass, going to Mass, changing nappies, converting garages, painting bedrooms and the tedious like while she went to coffee mornings, looked at conservatory brochures and contested their neighbours’ planning applications. The things that had initially charmed him about Katherine were suddenly choking him.
Besides, he’d got what he wanted from her. The thrill of the chase was over, and now he was scared.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Leave Fiona alone.’
Hearing him talk protectively about another woman was the biggest pain she’d ever felt. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel such agony. ‘You’re not going to tell me you love her?’ she choked.
He hadn’t been going to, but that suddenly struck him as a good idea. ‘Of course I love her, she’s my wife.’
‘You can’t love her, you love me.’
When he said nothing, she demanded, ‘You love me, don’t you? You said you did.’
‘I know I did, but… I’m sorry. Look, I’m very fond of you, and you’re very attractive…’ He squirmed. She’d got it bad. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve been a bad boy again and –’
‘Again? You mean, you’ve done this before? I’m not the first?’
He moved his head slightly from side to side. She wasn’t the first.
‘But I’m special, aren’t I?’ Clearing space for him to redeem himself in.
But all he said was ‘You’re a nice girl and I’m sorry.’
Before she could follow this unwelcome information to its unpleasant conclusion, her brain flitted to another source of horror. There were so many dreadful things happening that she didn’t know which to deal with first. ‘But I’m going to have a baby.’ Hysteria appeared in her voice.
God, what a shambles, Lorcan thought, uncomfortably. He couldn’t even tell her to have an abortion because he had no money to contribute to it. ‘What will we do?’ she begged, her eyes pleading.
‘I’m not the one who’s pregnant.’ Lorcan’s face was twisted into an expression of dislike because she was making him feel so bad.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re the one who’s up the pole. I never wanted you to be. I wanted you to get sorted out but you wouldn’t. So do what you like with it. Have it. Don’t have it. It’s up to you.’
‘What are you trying to say to me?’ She had a fair idea, but hoped desperately that she was wrong.
‘I really think it’s best if I don’t get involved,’ he said, priding himself on how kindly he said it.
‘But you have to be involved,’ she cried. ‘It’s unavoidable. You’ll have to leave your wife and –’
‘Really, Katherine, I think –’
‘That’s not my name,’ she said wildly. At his confused look, she insisted, crazily, ‘It’s Katherine with a K. It’s your special name for me. Say it.’
‘Katherine,’ he said, loudly and firmly, ‘I think it’s best if we’re not together any more.’
‘NO! Don’t leave me.’
‘It’s for the best.’
‘The best for you, maybe, but how will I cope?’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said hastily, turning away from her. ‘You’ll be fine, you’ll get over this.’
‘Please,’ she choked, ‘please.’ Then she heard herself say, ‘I’m begging you.’
But, as if in a slowed-down nightmare, he was getting to his feet. He was trying to stand up and go away from her. She knew that if he left now it was all over, she’d never see him again.
He was moving away from the table, but she was holding on to his arm and being dragged with him. A stool fell over and he was trying to prise her claw-grip fingers off him. She bumped her hip, wood denting bone, and felt no pain. People were looking up from their drinks and he was saying something. Hard words. Cruel words. Get away. Leave me alone. A clatter as a pint glass fell, its contents frothing silently over the shiny wood. The barman was hurrying towards them.
‘But don’t you love me?’ she heard her voice screech.
‘No,’ he said.
No.
76
Tara insisted on frisking Fintan like she was a member of the Drugs Squad. She ran her hands over and over him, marvelling at the reduction in his lumps. ‘Do you know what I can feel?’ she asked, as she caressed his side.
‘What?’
‘NOTHING!’ she yelped, in delight. ‘Nothing!’ She stood back and took him in – bald, skeletal, leaning on a stick. But the bump on his neck was only the size of a grape. ‘You look spectacular,’ she exclaimed. ‘Good enough to eat. How do you feel?’
‘Really good. Lots of energy and I’m eating well. The future is bright. But where’s Katherine and my Joe?’
‘Hold on to your hat. I’ve some story for the pair of you.’ And she regaled Fintan and Sandro with the dramatic events of the last day.
‘Beaker from The Muppet Show,’ Fintan kept repeating, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘After all these years, who shows up? Only Beaker from The Muppet Show!’
But when she told them about the situation with Joe, they were aghast. ‘She can’t do that to Joe,’ they wailed, looking at each other for confirmation. ‘What’s wrong with the girl?’
‘I’m terribly worried about her,’ Tara admitted. ‘I didn’t want to leave her. It’s like she’s concussed.’
‘You don’t think she’s told Joe to get lost because she’s bumped into Beaker again,’ Fintan suggested.
‘No!’ Sandro was appalled. ‘How could she care for a person who broke her little bambina heart?’
‘Maybe she wants to get even with him. What do you think, Tara?’ Fintan said. ‘Maybe she’s planning to go to bed with him and at the last minute withhold the goodies and tell him he has a minuscule mickey?’
‘I really don’t know,’ Tara despaired. ‘I’m telling you it’s impossible to know what’s going on with her.’
‘God, wouldn’t we all love to do that to some oul’ louser who dumped us?’ Fintan said dreamily. ‘Anyway, Sandro, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Beaker has a girlfriend, which puts him out of the frame.’
Somehow Tara doubted that Amy was much of an impediment to Lorcan’s sexual adventuring.
‘And Joe will sort her out.’ Since Joe had arranged for Fintan to meet Dale Winton, Fintan had great faith in Joe to fix everything.
Tara’s worry lifted. ‘You’re right. She probably got a bit of a shock but she’ll be grand in a while.’
‘And how was your date, Tara?’
‘Eeeee-ooooow, he was awful. Short, balding and plump.’
‘But was he nice?’
‘He was OK, but I’m saving myself. The next man I get off with has to be completely great, I’m not settling for any old eejit. I’d rather do without.’
‘Holy God!’ Fintan exclaimed. ‘You’ve changed. What happened to Last Chance Saloon Tara?’
‘Yeah!’ Sandro interrogated, knowingly. ‘Where is gone Tara “I hate not to have a man” Butler?’
‘Tara “I’d rather go out with a tosspot who tells me I’m fat than have no one at all” Butler?’ Fintan chipped in.
‘Wasn’t I
pathetic?’ She winced. ‘Last Chance Saloon, indeed! Don’t I have my whole life ahead of me?’
‘Not unlike my good self.’ Fintan overflowed with joie de vivre.
‘I haven’t a clue what changed,’ Tara admitted. ‘All I know is I’d no confidence when I was living with Thomas. I thought I’d never survive without him, but now I find that he was the reason I had no confidence. And it’s lovely not to be terrified the entire time.’
‘Terrified of what?’
‘Being on my own. I thought it was the worst thing that could possibly happen, but now that the worst has happened, it’s not so bad. It’s nice, in fact.’
‘Nice?’ Fintan gave her an eyebrow. ‘I’ve heard it all now.’
‘Nice sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not saying I don’t get lonely. I’d love a gorgeous bloke. But I was as lonely as anything living with Thomas. At least now I’m on my own I have some chance of meeting someone. And it really could happen. Look at Katherine. She met a great man and she’s even older than me.’
‘By six weeks. But I like your attitude. It’s all one big adventure. And what about Ravi?’
‘Oh, Fintan, please. Ravi’s my friend.’
‘Aha. I think he would like to be more than your friend.’ Sandro winked meaningfully.
‘Is that a Mars bar in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?’ Fintan said suggestively.
‘I’d prefer the Mars bar, thanks.’
‘But he’s mad about you, isn’t he?’
Tara blushed and squirmed. ‘Maybe. He’s never said anything, but, yeah, maybe… Although I think he preferred me when I was fat. Mind you, he could be in luck. I’m heading back in the direction of a size twelve again. That’s the problem with having no problems. Contentment is a bummer.’
‘You’re just evening out,’ Fintan consoled. ‘You were desperate-looking before, kind of sunken. Yes, yes, I know, I’m not exactly a candidate for the Hefty Hideaway myself. But right now you look fabulous. All toned and thin. In fact,’ Fintan questioned Sandro, ‘don’t you think Tara and Ravi would make the perfect couple?’
‘He has got a great body,’ Sandro agreed.
‘Oh, don’t! I like him so much. But I’m not ready.’ She couldn’t really find the words. ‘I’d like to go out with lots of men,’ she exclaimed. ‘Keep it light and have fun. I had no freedom for so long, and I’m not ready to give it up.’