Tara

by Lesley Pearse

His gentle, almost affectionate way of putting Harry down didn't make her bristle; in fact it reminded her that Harry didn't approve of lady drivers. His memory somehow seemed blurred, and she was very aware of Josh's hand in hers. He could never compete with Harry, but today he looked almost handsome. Even the gold medallion nestling amongst the dark curly hair on his chest didn't make her want to laugh as it usually did. He was just Josh, an honest, ostentatious guy who knew how to be a real friend.

  'Let's go in there.' Josh stopped by a hole in a hedge that led to a field. 'There don't seem to be any cowpats.'

  It reminded Tara of the lower meadow at home – grass strewn with buttercups, unseen grasshoppers chirruping, rooks cawing in a tree. The sun was hot on her arms, the grass smelled fresh and clean and the only clouds in the sky were mere wisps of cotton wool.

  Josh laid down the blanket, opened the wine and poured it, then sat rolling up a joint. She watched as he burned the lump of cannabis, then crumbled it on to tobacco. He rolled it expertly, licked the paper, stuck it down and twisted one end like a firework. Then he tore a strip of cardboard from a cigarette packet, rolled it tightly and slid it into the other end of the joint.

  'What's that for?'

  'A filter.' Josh grinned. He put it between his thick lips then lit the end. 'You're very curious today!'

  'Sometimes I feel as if life's passing me by,' she said thoughtfully. 'I mean, I've been living in London now for years but I don't know much about what goes on.'

  'Maybe I'm partly responsible for that.' He took a deep drag on the joint and slowly exhaled. 'I let you work all hours for me. I've taken too much from you and not given enough back.'

  'I don't feel hard done by.' Tara giggled, taking the joint he offered her and dragging deeply on it. She coughed violently and took a mouthful of wine to stop it. Another drag and she'd got the hang of it. 'But I've decided it's time I lived a little. I'm going to learn to drive, and buy a car. And I'll smoke dope if I want to.'

  'I don't feel any different,' Tara insisted half an hour later.

  'Boring people say that!' Josh teased. He was lying on his back. Tara was sitting, her legs tucked away under her dress, looking down at him. 'If we were at my place now and I put some sounds on, you'd notice it immediately. If I was to kiss you, you might find you liked it more.'

  He was very relaxing to be with. They had flitted from subject to subject like butterflies, laughed about things that happened in the shop, people they'd met in Paris.

  'So we've either got to go home to your place, or start kissing for me to find out?' she grinned.

  'It's too nice here to go home.' Josh closed his eyes. 'Why don't you just come and lie down, snooze a bit. You know, Tara, you're hyper-active, always wanting to be doing something. Did someone tell you that it's sinful to be idle?'

  'Mum and Gran bred it into me.' She stretched out her legs and slowly moved round to lie beside him.

  'My folks are like that, too.' He looked at her sideways. 'Every moment of the day has to be filled. Mum makes bread and cakes that no-one will eat rather than be idle.'

  Tara knew she was just the same. How many Saturday nights had she spent on the drawing board instead of going out dancing with one of the girls from the shop? How many evenings had she spent cleaning her flat when she could have been laughing at a funny film, chatting to someone, or just been happy doing nothing?

  'My parents seem to think anything pleasurable is sinful.' Josh grinned. 'They would be appalled if I married someone just because she made me feel happy. They'd expect me to choose her like you would a horse. Good breeding stock, strong enough to work hard and as frugal as they are!'

  'Gran was always giving me dire warnings about being led astray by love.' Tara smiled. 'I daresay she'd approve of your parents' ideas.'

  'So what would you marry for? Just love, however poor and unsuitable? For money? Or even friendship?' Josh leaned on one elbow and looked down intently at her.

  'Once I would have said just love,' Tara replied. 'But I'm beginning to think my gran and your parents have a point. In the long term it might be better to marry someone who's a good friend, has the same interests and goals.'

  'Like me?'

  Tara looked into his eyes and she knew it wasn't a hypothetical question.

  'In many ways you'd be perfect.' She couldn't stand the intensity of his gaze and looked away.

  'But Harry's in the way?'

  There was so much understanding and tenderness in his voice she felt drawn to him. She nodded. 'I always thought he and I were meant to be,' she whispered. 'I believed he wanted the same things as me. But I don't think he does any more.'

  'You have to decide what you want out of life, Tara,' Josh reached out and stroked her face. 'Harry would be a fish out of water anywhere but London. But when we open this new shop and the new labels have "designed by Tara Manning" on them, the whole world will be your oyster.'

  Tara gulped. She'd suggested having her name on labels before but he'd always shied away from it.

  'Milan, Paris, New York...' The place names sounded like a prayer. 'There's no end to where it will lead, Tara. But it won't do if every time we need to hold a fashion show or go to one of the collections, Harry gets heavy.'

  'Are you serious about the labels?' she asked dis-believingly. It meant so much to her.

  'Totally.' His eyes were so soft she could feel herself sinking into them. 'I was very arrogant when you first joined me. I took and took. Now I see I couldn't have done it without you and I want to share from here on in.'

  'What are you saying?' She could feel a bubbling of excitement inside her. 'A partnership?'

  'I'm saying I love you, Tara,' he said, stroking back her hair from her face. 'I know it's too soon to ask you to marry me, I'd be afraid to ask in case you turned me down. But whether it's a partnership in marriage or just business, I want you.'

  He moved nearer, leaning his head on her shoulder, his lips just touching her neck.

  A tremor of wanting started in her belly. She was aware only of him, no longer feeling the hot sun, the grass tickling her toes where the blanket ended, or even hearing the boats on the river and people walking on the towpath.

  His lips were soft and full, they nibbled their way up her neck, across her cheek and found their way to hers. She wanted him from the moment his tongue flickered against hers. It was like taking just a sip of water and finding it inflame the thirst still further. She let him push her down on to the blanket, her mouth reaching for his with hunger, her body arching up towards his.

  A warning bell told her she was reacting like this because of the dope and the wine, that she must calm down, stop things now before they got out of hand. But it was too exciting, the burning inside her too strong. As he unlaced the bodice of her dress and moved down to kiss her breasts she panted with longing.

  'Your breasts are lovely.' He ran his tongue over her erect nipple till she cried out with pleasure. 'I've done this in my dreams so often, but reality's even better.'

  His breath was hot on her flesh, his fingers evoking a wild and savage response as they squeezed and stroked her breasts.

  A dog barked close by. Tara opened her eyes and saw a golden labrador coming through the hole in the hedge. It was a reminder of home, of Winston and the farm.

  'Sally!' A man's voice shouted from further along the towpath.

  'A dog!' Tara said, rolling over and pulling her dress back over her breasts. 'His master's coming, too.'

  'Lucky him!' Josh sniggered just as the dog gambolled over to them, tongue lolling and tail wagging. 'Hello, girl. Of course I'm not a bit bloody pleased to see you, but I'll pretend to be polite.'

  'Sally!' The shout made them turn. A middle-aged man in khaki shorts and matching long socks was coming towards them. 'I'm dreadfully sorry,' he said, looking flustered. 'I hope she hasn't disturbed you, she's so friendly, she wants everyone to play with her.'

  The moment had passed. Tara reached for the wine bottle and emptied the la
st inch or two into their glasses.

  'It's just as well.' She smiled at Josh, amused by his grumpy expression. 'Suppose we'd gone a bit further and that man caught us at it? I'd have died of embarrassment.'

  'We seem to be jinxed.' Josh's lower lip protruded petulantly.

  'I don't think I would have gone that far without the joint.' Tara reached over and took his hand. 'I'm not really ready for that yet, Josh. I'm still too mixed up.'

  'Let's walk, then.' He stood up, tucking his shirt into his trousers, then held out his hand to pull her up. 'Next time, Tara, next time!'

  Tara walked past the front of the club briskly. Mrs Knight, one of the cleaners, was Hoovering just inside the open door, a cigarette hanging from her lips, hair bound up in a scarf. She was the mother of one of Harry's friends, a tall skinny woman who knew Tara well. Fortunately she was too engrossed in her work to look up, and Tara darted round the corner into the narrow alley beside the club.

  It was two o'clock. Unless something unusual had happened this morning, Needles, Tony and possibly Alec would come out any minute now and walk further down the road to get some dinner at the café while the cleaners finished up.

  Josh had given her a wonderful day out, even after the incident in the field he was still charming. They walked and talked, and later they went for a meal in Windsor.

  It was after eleven when he dropped her home. He didn't ask to come in, or suggest another date. There was a quiet understanding between them that nothing needed to be pushed.

  Josh had talked about taking a holiday together in Italy, taking in the art treasures, the fashion, the sun and sea. But first she had to find out about Harry.

  Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday were the longest days she'd ever known. Anxiety, guilt, fear and even anger fermented inside her; she couldn't concentrate on her work, neither could she sleep. One moment she was mooning over Josh, remembering in detail how it felt when he kissed her breasts, the next she was angrily reprimanding herself for being so unfaithful.

  It was her day off today, and the idea had come to her in the small hours. Now she was actually waiting to carry it out, she wasn't nearly so certain about it.

  If someone caught her she would just act thick and make out she was looking for evidence that Harry was two-timing her. But she didn't intend to get caught.

  Footsteps made her duck down behind a dustbin.

  'I don't fuckin' like it,' Needles' voice rang out. 'Marcia's been with us since we opened and until Harry signs over the club to Duke, she should stay.'

  'Don't make waves, Needles.'

  Tara crept back down the alley and peered nervously out into the road. Needles was wearing the overalls they always put on for beer deliveries. Tony was almost running beside him to keep up, his short legs going like pistons.

  'I can't take much more of this,' Needles snarled. 'If I didn't owe 'Arry I'd be out of 'ere now.'

  They were out of hearing range now and Tara came out of her hiding place.

  It was odd that Alec wasn't with them, she knew the three usually had their meals at the same time. But maybe now Harry wasn't around things had changed.

  As she got back to the front door she could hear the sound of the Hoover coming from the bar and Mrs Knight shouting above it to her helper. Taking a deep breath Tara darted in, paused for a moment to get her bearings, then made a dash past the bar door to the stairs.

  Everywhere looked so odd without lights. Sunshine came in the open door, a little more from the curved window over the stairs, but it was gloomy, a bit like being in a church.

  Her feet were silent on the thick stair carpet, but as she reached the gallery she heard two men's voices coming from the direction of Harry's office. There was no time to consider who they were. She had to hide.

  Running along the corridor to her left she darted into a windowless storeroom and hid behind the door. Her plan had been to reach the empty rooms, above this floor. She intended to settle down and wait until everyone left and the club was locked up, then she would have several hours to search without fear of interruption.

  She could hear the men coming closer, talking softly. Suppose they came in here and caught her?

  'The signal should come on Friday,' one of the men said. She didn't recognise this voice at all.

  'I just hope they handle it properly.' She was sure this was Duke's voice, and she held her breath as they went on past the storeroom.

  'They've been training for long enough,' Duke said, but his voice tailed away as if they'd gone into one of the gaming rooms.

  'Joe's a good man, he won't let us down.' The stranger's voice drifted to her, suggesting they were coming out of the room again. 'We ought to send some replacements down for the others, though. They aren't used to being cooped up.'

  'There's no-one else to replace them.' Duke sounded angry at the suggestion. "They knew there would be a lot of waiting, it's part of the deal.'

  Tara held her breath, terrified they might just pull the storeroom door shut and lock it. There were spirits in here, boxes and boxes of them, and it shouldn't have been open. But they were going down the stairs now, their voices retreating. After a quick peep to make certain, she dashed for the small wooden staircase at the end, holding her bag firmly under her arm.

  At the far end of the narrow, dusty passage upstairs was the room she was making for. Harry had brought her up here once when he had the idea of making it into a flat.

  This was the room he'd thought of using as a bedroom. Because it was on the end of the building it had funny little arched windows on two sides. If she peered down from the front one she could just see the paper shop across the narrow street. The side one looked on to an alley, on her right a tiny glimpse of river. The room hadn't been cleared. Still the old armchair with one castor missing, a tea chest and a cardboard box of old printed price lists.

  Tara turned the tea chest on its side as a precautionary hiding place, opened her bag and sorted through the equipment she'd brought. A torch, a flask of coffee, a pack of sandwiches, assorted fruit, sweets, cake and a book. She didn't anticipate staying beyond nine or ten,, but it was as well to be prepared.

  Getting in here had been a piece of cake, getting out would be far more hazardous. She would have to go downstairs in the early evening and hide in the cloakroom until someone came to open up for the evening, then, when an opportunity arose, nip out the door. But if she was caught! But she wasn't going to dwell on that! For now all she had to do was listen.

  One of the advantages of this hiding place was the fact it was over the foyer. If Harry hadn't had delusions of grandeur, insisting on that oak staircase and a chandelier, there would be another room beneath this one. As it was, sound carried clearly up here. Harry once told her he came up here for a cigarette sometimes when they had a stand-in doorman, just so he could discover how many entrance fees went in his pocket.

  An hour passed. The men came back. She could hear Mrs Knight clearly, grumbling about the mess in the ladies lavatories. She heard her bang her equipment into her cupboard, then shout goodbye to Needles. Then one by one Alec, Tony and Duke left.

  Finally the front door was banged shut, Needles' voice drifting up from the street below as he shouted something to the shop owner opposite.

  There was no sound other than the buzzing of the chiller unit down in the bar. She started to walk down, but the sudden, unexpected sound of the telephone made her stop in her tracks. The click of someone picking up the receiver reverberated through the silent building and she heard a man's voice speak. Hastily she turned and went back to her hideout.

  Voices woke her. Startled, Tara sat up and checked her watch. It was almost nine in the evening. She had waited and waited for the person on the telephone to leave. But he hadn't, and she'd reconciled herself to searching at night instead, then waiting till morning to get out. Finally she had lain down on the dusty floor and fallen asleep.

  Needles was in, she could hear him quite distinctly, Tony, too, and maybe Dennis and
Alec, though she couldn't be sure. A girl with a harsh Cockney voice shouted out that they needed more mixers, then there was a peal of dirty laughter from her and one of the men.

  Did she dare use the toilet along the passage? Maybe she should wait till the music was turned on and people arrived.

  Tara sat shivering. It wasn't very cold but it was creepy. She could hear scratching under the floorboards, creaking from the old hoists outside. It was one in the morning now, but still people arrived to gamble and drink. She could no longer hear the music, it was buried beneath the noise of people enjoying themselves.

  She shone her torch on her watch. Three o'clock! It was quiet now, the music turned down to a mere hum, but there was a big card game going on and so the bar was open in the main gaming room. Every now and then a drunken girl's laughter spilled out. Tara could see the scene as if she was in the room, she'd so often been part of it. The laughing girl would be sitting on a bar stool, possibly in a long evening dress. Her man is in the next room, deaf and blind to anything beyond the cards in his hands. She's getting drunk because she's anxious. She'll talk and laugh too loudly, trying hard to justify why she's there, and all the time he's losing more.

  Harry had come to hate gambling and gamblers. He said he'd heard all the stories about fortunes won and lost. That he was sickened by men who dragged their families down, of women who came crying to him asking for help. She felt Harry's presence tonight and it made her feel brave.

  At last she heard the door of the card room opening, and feet shuffling out. Someone down there had won, but there was no joy or laughter. The silly girl was crying now, saying stupid things she'd regret tomorrow. Needles' voice came from the foyer, she could hear him clearly as he comforted the girl and jollied her out into a taxi. Harry said they always paid for taxis for people who'd lost a great deal; he'd laughed and said he had to, in case they were still on the doorstep the next morning.

  Cars were driving away now. If only she could see which was which and mentally check off each man.

  'Come on, man.' Needles sounded irritated, he wanted to go home. 'It's late and I've had it with being polite.'