by Cathy Kelly
‘But it has to be rubbed in by a nice man,’ added Tara, laughing, ‘or the guarantee doesn’t work.’
It was noon on Sunday and the three sisters were travelling to the restaurant in Stella’s car. Amelia had insisted on going with her grandparents and Finn.
‘She’s trying to convince Dad to get a puppy,’ Stella said as she drove down Kinvarra’s main street, eyes peeled for a parking space.
‘Poor Dad,’ grinned Tara. ‘He said he might get a dog when he retires but not yet.’
‘Amelia can be very persuasive,’ Stella pointed out. ‘Hazel got a hamster for Shona and Becky, and Amelia keeps making big, sad eyes at me and asking why can’t we have one too, and that it would only be small, wouldn’t eat much and she’d clean its cage. She did her abused child look last Saturday when we met one of the school mothers outside ballet and Amelia said she was saving all her pocket money for a hamster because I won’t buy one for her. Honestly, I was waiting for the child services people to come and take her away.’
The sisters laughed.
‘That reminds me of myself,’ said Tara. ‘I was such a minx when I was a kid. I once told Angela Devon that we never got treats at home and that Mum point-blank refused to give us chocolate or anything nice in our lunchboxes. And you know Mum was always killing herself making sure we had everything we wanted. I still feel bad about that.’
‘You were just a kid,’ consoled Stella. ‘Ooh, parking!’ she added, braking suddenly and whipping the car into a space.
The three women walked slowly to the restaurant.
‘Have you got the card?’ asked Stella.
‘Yep.’ Holly had found a fabulous card with a picture of a man fishing on the front and inside was a note with details of the fishing rod the three sisters had clubbed together to buy.
‘Hope he likes it,’ said Stella.
‘He’ll love it,’ said Tara. ‘I just wish it was as easy to buy something for their ruby wedding as it was for Dad’s birthday. What the hell are we going to get them?’
‘We’ll think of something,’ Stella said confidently. ‘It’s weeks away.’ She looped an arm through each of her sisters’. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, ‘and nobody is to mention hamsters, right?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Finn drove up the cobbled drive to Four Winds the following Saturday morning, Tara felt her heart sink. She had at least an hour of Gloria to get through: an hour of barbed comments about National Hospital and sarcastic little asides about how lucky her friends were to have grandchildren. The latest news was that Liz B-M’s daughter Serena was pregnant, and Gloria was clearly annoyed about being left behind in the game of one-upmanship.
‘We’re going to have a fabulous holiday,’ said Finn encouragingly.
Tara grinned at him. ‘Sure we are,’ she said. Negotiating lethal ski runs as a first-time skier couldn’t be any more treacherous than popping into her mother-in-law’s to say goodbye. Tara didn’t even know why she and Finn were going to Four Winds in the first place: they were only going to be away for ten days. Surely even Gloria couldn’t get withdrawal symptoms from missing her son in that time?
‘Do we have to drop in on your mum?’ Tara had asked earlier that day when they’d finally packed two suitcases and one big, squashy bag for on the plane. ‘Skiing clothes take up so much room,’ she added, gasping, as they manhandled the luggage into Finn’s silver Volkswagen.
‘Yes, we do,’ Finn apologised. ‘Sorry, she sounded almost tearful on the phone about not seeing me. But we won’t be long, and then we’ll be on the plane! Wait till you really get into skiing and we have our own skis,’ he added, happy in the fantasy of near-professional skiing skill and endless holidays.
Tara was not convinced after her failures at the ski slope on Tuesday. ‘That is never going to happen,’ she said gloomily, ‘not the way I ski.’
‘Nonsense, real snow is much more fun than an artificial slope.’ Finn pulled Tara’s sheepskin hat back and planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘You’ll love it.’
‘I won’t if I break something.’ Tara was wondering if going to Austria with a gang of ski fanatics was such a good idea. Finn had been skiing several times with Derry, and adored it. Tara had never had much co-ordination. Step aerobics were beyond her and she’d been hopeless at gymnastics at school. She had visions of nine happy people giggling over the gluhwein in their chalet, while she sat miserably in the corner, immobile, with some bit of her itching like mad in an ungainly plaster cast.
‘You’ll love it,’ Finn urged.
‘I know I will,’ said Tara, resolving to stop being such a moaner. Who cared if she was useless on the slopes anyhow? She’d be away with Finn.
Through some marvellous piece of luck, Gloria was on the phone when they arrived. Tara hoped it was a long, long call.
‘Tea or coffee?’ said Desmond.
‘No, we’re fine,’ Finn said. ‘We haven’t got long, Dad.’
Tara picked up a gardening magazine from the table and flicked through it, while Desmond teased Finn about his first skiing trip.
‘Tara, if you’d seen him when he came back. He was black and blue and his ankle took months to heal.’ Desmond shook his head. ‘He said he’d never go skiing again. Only for Derry dragging him off the following year, he never would have.’
‘You never told me you hurt yourself skiing,’ she laughed at Finn. ‘You said you’d been a natural straight off. You liar!’
‘A natural?’ teased Desmond. ‘Natural at falling over. According to Derry, there were four-year-olds with better balance than your husband.’
‘But that was my first time,’ protested Finn good-humouredly.
‘And this is my first time.’ Tara pointed out. ‘You told me I’d have no trouble. I know I’m going to end up falling over the whole time.’
‘Yes but you’ve a nice soft bum to land on if you do,’ Finn grinned.
‘Thank you,’ gasped Tara, pretending to be insulted. ‘This is what I have to put up with, Desmond. Insults all the time.’
Finn blew her a kiss. ‘She likes it, really, Dad.’
They talked and laughed for half an hour and Tara reflected that when Gloria wasn’t present, Four Winds was like a different place.
Finally, Gloria arrived, looking very put out at this interference with her plans.
‘That was Liz, I couldn’t get her off the phone. You’re not leaving yet, are you, darling?’
‘We don’t have much time, Mums.’ Finn looked contrite. ‘The plane waits for no man. We’ll have to go in less than half an hour.’
‘Come out to the kitchen with me while I make coffee,’ begged Gloria, ‘I need to talk to you.’
And it was nice to see you too, Gloria, thought Tara with irritation as her mother-in-law swept Finn off without so much as a hello in Tara’s direction. When they returned some ten minutes later, even Finn’s famed easy-going smile looked strained.
‘Everything all right?’ Tara asked under her breath.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ he replied.
Tara clock-watched through discussions about Liz B-M’s prospective grandchild and where the baby was going to be born (‘a private hospital, of course’). Next up, was the usual inquisition about Finn’s job. Tara was convinced that she was held responsible for Finn not having advanced beyond junior sales manager in the company. In fact, Finn was perfectly happy with his job, particularly since his oldest friend and chief merrymaker, Derry, was his direct boss.
‘It’s very important to entertain the senior management,’ Gloria said, mantra-like. ‘I entertained for your father and look where that got him,’ she added proudly.
Tara smiled sweetly through this dig. If Gloria thought Tara was going to give up her job so she could devote herself to advancing Finn’s career, she could think again. Did Gloria know that women were allowed to vote?
The big hand crawled round to time to go. Tara shot her husband a meaningful look and he nodded.
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�We’ve got to get out of here,’ he said apologetically.
Tara hugged her father-in-law goodbye. ‘I’ll save a space on my cast for you to sign,’ she joked.
‘Stay for another cup of coffee,’ Gloria begged her son. ‘Planes never leave on time, I’m sure you don’t have to go yet.’
‘Our flight’s at three,’ said Tara coolly. ‘We have to leave, Gloria. Sorry.’
It was bad enough that Gloria had insisted on Finn trekking all the way to visit her before they drove back up the motorway to the airport, Tara wasn’t going to let her rule the roost entirely.
Finn hugged his mother, who looked tearful.
‘Bye,’ said Tara breezily. She linked Finn’s arm in hers. ‘We’ll send a postcard.’
‘Have fun,’ said Desmond.
Gloria said nothing and just stared at them, looking stricken while they got in the car and drove quickly out the gates.
‘Your mother is very possessive about you,’ ventured Tara when they were safely in the car and back on the motorway.
‘I know,’ said Finn. ‘She’s always been like that. It used to drive Fay mad, that’s why they fought all the time.’
‘She was possessive about Fay too?’ Tara could understand how a person might want to emigrate if their mother was a clingy, manipulative woman like Gloria.
‘No.’ Finn sounded melancholy. ‘She wasn’t like that with Fay at all, just with me. That was what broke Fay’s heart. She was fed up with being treated like a second-class citizen.’
To lighten the mood, Tara rubbed Finn’s shoulder affectionately. ‘Look at all these fascinating things I’m learning about you,’ she said.
‘Just as well we got married after only six months together, then,’ he replied. ‘You mightn’t have wanted to marry me if you knew all the Jefferson family secrets.’
‘I’d have married you no matter what.’ She squeezed the hand that rested on the gear shift.
‘You’re sweet,’ he said fondly.
‘Yeah, that’s me,’ agreed Tara, ironically. ‘Sweet. Everyone at work says so. “There goes that lovely sweet Tara Miller,” they all say.’
Finn laughed. ‘That’s another black mark in my mother’s mind, by the way,’ he added. ‘My mother disapproves of you not taking the name Jefferson when we got married.’
Tara rolled her eyes. ‘If that’s all she’s got to worry about, then tough bananas. So, what’s wrong with her?’
‘The usual. Fay. She wants me to ask Fay to phone her. She says I can sort it out and that Fay wouldn’t talk to her.’
‘That’s a cop-out. Why doesn’t she just phone Fay herself ?’ Tara was genuinely perplexed. Gloria was such a strange woman. She could be as sharp as a hypodermic syringe one moment, and behave like a helpless child who needed other people to help her sort out a family rift the next.
‘I told you,’ repeated Finn. ‘My family are weird. You’re used to straightforward people, Tara, and we’re not straightforward. Where Mums is concerned, there have to be undercurrents and shifting, unvoiced opinions.’
Tara shuddered. She’d hate to come from a family like that. In the Miller family, people said what they thought and no family row would be allowed to last for over two years.
‘Mums hopes that I’ll square everything with Fay and tell her that Mums wants her home and wants the row forgotten. Then, she’ll talk to Mums and it’ll all be over. End of story, everyone’s happy. Until the next time.’
‘I see,’ said Tara. She knew it would hurt Finn if she said what she really thought: that his mother was an arch manipulator. Gloria wanted other people to do her dirty work, so she cajoled poor Finn into listening to her sob over Fay, forcing him to phone his sister and try and heal the rift. Tara was glad that Finn was a strong enough person not to get caught up in his mother’s plots. He’d clearly taught himself to switch off and not get involved.
She stroked his cheek. ‘Let’s forget about all this and have a great holiday.’
The party spirit got underway at the airport. There were five couples going on the trip, including Finn’s old school friends Derry, Jake and Ken and their partners, along with a colleague of Jake’s and his wife. Tara had met all but Jake’s workmate before. The men all knew each other well and the ice was broken when Derry rounded up all the passports at the check in desk and laughed, childishly Tara thought, at the usual Interpol-style passport photos.
‘Derry, stop mucking around,’ said Kayla, his girlfriend.
Thank God there was someone around to keep an eye on Derry, Tara thought, grinning at the other woman. In her experience of Finn’s best friend, he needed constant supervision or he became unbearable.
When they had all checked in, Tara thought a little retail therapy would be in order. But nearly everybody else voted to head straight for the bar. Only Kayla wanted to forgo a drink for a trip to the shops.
‘Oh let them at it,’ said Kayla. ‘You can’t shop with a guy hanging round after you.’
She and Tara trailed through the cosmetics hall in companionable silence, stocking up on moisturiser, sun screen and some gorgeous sparkly lip glosses they just had to have. Tara even bought a pair of ski glasses that she thought were very Bond babe.
When she and Kayla finally made it up to the bar, their fellow travellers were drinking champagne.
‘Are you all mad?’ demanded Tara, counting the bottles. ‘They won’t let you on the plane if you’re drunk.’
‘C’mere crosspatch,’ laughed Finn, pulling her clumsily onto his knee. ‘They won’t mind. We’re nice, polite drunks.’
With all the happy, slightly tipsy faces looking at her, Tara felt she couldn’t say anything. But she was irritated by Finn’s behaviour. This was their holiday, not some rowdy stag night. She got off Finn’s knee and sat apart from him, ostensibly examining her purchases.
Finn wriggled onto the bench seat beside her. ‘We’re just having fun, love,’ he said, kissing her. ‘Relax, Tara. You need a break too. You’ve been working too hard.’
‘Yeah, I suppose,’ she said.
Derry shoved a glass of champagne into her hand, spilling a bit on her in the process. ‘Here’s to skiing!’ he said loudly.
She’d never been to a skiing village and didn’t know what to expect. But Kitzbuhl fulfilled every dream she’d ever had. The whole medieval town was snow-filled, utterly beautiful, like an illustration from a child’s fairytale book.
‘Oh, Finn, this is lovely,’ Tara sighed, holding his hand as the Snow Tourz bus lurched up the road.
‘I knew you were an old romantic at heart,’ he said, squeezing back. ‘We’ll have to go on a sleigh ride.’
‘Oh yes!’ She leaned over and kissed him tenderly. ‘I’d love that, Finn.’ Perhaps they could have a second honeymoon after all.
‘Can’t you keep your hands off each other for five minutes!’ yelled a voice from the back.
Tara and Finn dissolved into laughter. Despite their tiredness after the drink and the flight, they were buzzing with excitement. Away from the pressures of work and family, this was going to be their best holiday yet.
The chalet was at one end of the town; a large wooden building that looked quite ample for their party of ten.
‘Hope it’s as nice inside as out,’ Tara whispered to Finn.
‘Hope we get a nice room with a big double bed,’ he whispered back, ‘so I can drag you off there.’
The Snow Tourz rep led the way in and ten weary travellers trailed in behind her, dragging as much of their luggage as they could manage. There was a big hall complete with all sorts of racks, hooks and drying rails for ski clothes.
‘So you won’t clog up everywhere else,’ the rep explained. ‘Cool, isn’t it?’
Next, she brought them into a big warm room with a very high-tech stove at one end, lots of enormous comfortable couches and chairs, and a big wooden dining table at the other. The table was laid for dinner and the scent of something wonderful was drifting from the kitchen.
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br /> ‘TV, yes!’ shouted Derry, throwing himself onto a couch to test it for comfort. ‘And we have satellite!’
Next to the dining area was a small, steamy kitchen where a very red-faced young woman was frantically doing things with a catering sized hob and lots of saucepans.
‘Meet Midge, your chalet girl,’ said the rep.
‘Hiya,’ said Midge, a chirpy New Zealander with blonde hair in sleek Heidi plaits. ‘I got a bit delayed with dinner. Lamb sound good?’
‘Yes,’ chorused everyone.
The rep handed out keys to every couple, explaining that it was easier to allocate rooms beforehand to save argument. Finn and Tara’s room was spacious, with a minuscule en suite bathroom, lots of wardrobe space and a soft Queen-sized bed covered in a blue striped duvet. Photos of picturesque local scenes adorned the walls. The effect was simple and pretty.
‘That bed looks good,’ said Finn, dropping the luggage wearily and lying on the bed.
‘Don’t you want any dinner?’ asked Tara.
Finn jumped up again. ‘Yeah, dinner, drinks and who knows, maybe a little après-ski here in this bed.’
Tara grinned. ‘That sounds like my sort of holiday.’
‘I ache,’ moaned Tara, several days later. ‘All over.’
‘Poor diddums,’ said Finn, dragging off his salopettes wearily. ‘I think a few reviving shots of schnapps will soon sort you out.’
‘Ugh, no.’ Tara couldn’t bear the thought of more booze. They’d had far too much again the night before and it had been a miracle she’d been able to get up that morning. The low sunlight bouncing off the snow had made her murderous headache worse and it had been lunchtime before she’d been able to face anything to eat.
‘How do you and Derry do it?’ she said. ‘You drank far more than me.’
‘Years of practice, babe,’ Finn replied. ‘Anyway, we’re here on holiday. Getting horrifically drunk is part of the fun.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Tara said. ‘I’m going to have a long hot shower before dinner and an early night.’