Just Between Us. Cathy KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
store on dressing up as we do.’ She lowered her voice. ‘They’re really quite casual, which can be inappropriate on occasion.’
Tara knew exactly who Gloria was referring to. Bitch. Double bitch.
She glared across the table at Finn who seemed oblivious to it all.
‘Does Sherry have a boyfriend?’ asked Charles, unable to get his mind off her.
‘No, rumour has it she’s a lesbian,’ snapped Tara, although the lie backfired because Charles drooled even more; no doubt at the notion of being sandwiched in bed between the beauteous Sherry and another stunning woman.
Trust him to be one of those blinkered men who saw gay women as some sort of kinky challenge. She’d have to tell him it was a joke. She gave up on Charles and turned to Pierre, who looked grey in the face and was trying to keep awake.
‘Are you looking forward to Christmas?’ she asked brightly.
Pierre fixed her with a glassy stare. ‘No,’ he said and turned back to his wine.
Think of tonight as research, Tara told herself firmly. Writers couldn’t write unless they observed. But despite her good intentions, separated from Finn and stuck in conversational limbo with Charles, the evening crawled past.
Pierre came out of himself enough to keep ordering bottles of wine but remained monosyllabic otherwise.
‘Poor darling Pierre is worn out,’ Liz admitted. ‘The pre-Christmas rush has been so busy. What about you, Tara? Do tell us all about the glamorous jet-set life. Do you get to see many stars?’
‘Sherry, the girl who plays Theodora, is a lesbian,’ interrupted Charles, sounding shocked.
Tara gasped theatrically. ‘Charles, you old tease. You know I was joking! She loves men.’
That shut Charles up. She turned to Liz. ‘I know them all,’ she sighed. ‘All the stars. We’re like one big, happy family.’ Ooops, another lie. The big television stars wouldn’t have any time for lowly script editors like herself.
‘Really.’ Liz leaned big bosoms on the table in her eagerness to hear all. Tara could see the young waiter’s eyes popping out of his head as Liz’s plunging dress front plunged further still. ‘You mean Daniel Anson, from Anson Interviews?’ Liz named one of the country’s biggest chat show hosts. ‘You know him?’
Tara nodded. Well, she had stood behind him in the canteen one day; that was almost meeting.
‘What’s he like?’
Tara thought about the contents of Daniel Anson’s tray that day: burger, chips, diet soft drink. He’d thrown his packet of cigarettes and a disposable lighter onto the tray when he was searching for change.
‘Very normal,’ she said.
‘Tell us about Dr McCambridge on National Hospital.’ Serena looked animated for the first time all night.
‘He’s handsome,’ said Tara truthfully. ‘He has that special something that really works on camera…’
‘Animal magnetism,’ growled Serena.
Finn, who knew from Tara that the actor could be hard to work with, smothered a giggle. Tara smiled across at him. She could just about cope with the evening if Finn was with her.
‘Welcome back,’ she mouthed.
Finn raised his glass to her. He was going to have another hangover in the morning, Tara reflected.
It was just after eleven when the taxi deposited the Jeffersons back at Four Winds.
Tara, exhausted after an evening of trying to be polite under difficult circumstances, wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and cuddle up to Finn. But Finn and his father decided that liqueurs were the order of the day.
‘It’s less than an hour till twelve, let’s stay up and toast in Christmas,’ suggested Desmond.
‘Great idea.’ Finn fell onto the big grey armchair and held out his arms for Tara to sit on his lap. Mindful of Gloria seeing this as another breach of decorum, Tara sat on the side of the chair instead and put an arm round Finn’s shoulders.
Gloria disappeared on some errand.
‘What would you like, Tara?’ asked Desmond, poised over the drinks cabinet.
‘Er…’ Tara didn’t know. She generally drank wine and wasn’t fond of spirits apart from the odd gin and tonic. ‘Baileys?’ she hazarded, ‘in honour of the Bailey-Montfords? Maybe not.’ She grinned to herself. Baileys was creamy and smooth, while the B-Ms were hard to swallow.
She heard a shocked gasp and looked up to find Gloria had reappeared and was staring at her grimly.
‘Did I say that out loud?’ laughed Tara. She must have drunk more wine than she’d thought. ‘Sorry, Gloria.’
‘They’re nice people,’ said Desmond, peacemaking, ‘but it’s not easy to be catapulted into a group of people who know each other well. I’m sure you and Finn would have preferred to stay at home.’
He gave Tara a big crystal balloon of Baileys anyway and she took it with a murmured ‘thanks’, humbled by Desmond’s gentle reprimand.
Gloria asked frostily for a crème de menthe, ‘very small, please, Desmond,’ she said, shooting a poisonous look at Tara and her generous glass.
‘I’ll get mine, Dad,’ volunteered Finn. ‘I need to see what you’ve got.’
Desmond took his brandy over to the other big armchair and Tara watched while her husband fiddled around in the cabinet before pouring himself an enormous glass of Cointreau.
‘You’ll die in the morning,’ she whispered as he sat beside her.
‘I need to block out the arguments,’ he whispered back, nuzzling her ear. ‘Total inebriation is the only way.’
Everybody sat and sipped their drinks in silence.
‘This is nice,’ said Tara politely, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
‘It’s a pity you didn’t enjoy dinner.’ Gloria’s tone was glacial.
Tara shrugged. If Gloria wanted to be like that, it was her business.
‘Mums and Dad, did I tell you we’re going skiing in March?’ Finn said.
‘No, you didn’t. Good for you, son.’ Desmond was envious. ‘I love skiing.’
‘We’d half-planned to go at Christmas,’ Finn said, ‘but we didn’t want to let you down, of course,’ he added hastily.
Tara said nothing. She hated these stilted family conversations. In her home, everyone talked nineteen to the dozen about anything and everything. Not like this. It was as if Finn and his father were afraid to say the wrong thing in case they inadvertently upset Gloria.
Still, she glanced at her watch, another interminable forty minutes to go and it was officially Christmas Day, and they could all go to bed.
‘I hope it wasn’t too much of a sacrifice to give up skiing for Christmas with your father and me.’ Gloria’s voice dropped plaintively, ‘I feel that Christmas is for families.’ Her thin face was taut under its perfect layer of base.
‘We know that,’ Finn said easily. He never displayed even the slightest irritation with his mother. Tara wondered what the secret was.
Gloria sniffed as though she might possibly cry. Tara didn’t think tears could squeeze themselves out of the space between Gloria’s eye liner and her pinched little eyes.
‘I know it’s selfish of me, darling, but I love having my family around me at this time of year.’ She shot a venomous glance at Tara, who bridled. It was clear that Gloria didn’t include Tara in that sentence. Tara glared furiously