They arrived at Heathrow that same afternoon, and Tara resolved to try and take her mind off things for a while, at least until they’d met up with Natalie and her boyfriend. Then, as Liz said, the two of them could spend the rest of the weekend “locked in the hotel with chocolate and ice-cream” if Tara preferred. She certainly knew she wouldn’t be up to going shopping in Oxford Street on Saturday afternoon or anything like that. She’d be lucky if she got through the day as it was.
“I’m so sorry for ruining your weekend,” Tara said, as they travelled towards their hotel in the taxi (which, she thought sadly, had “cost” her a lot more than she’d anticipated – and not financially), “I know how much you were looking forward to this.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Liz replied, looking horrified that she should think – let alone say – such a thing. “In fact, I think you’re amazing for going through with this at all. If it were me, I know for a fact I’d be buried under the duvet with one of my four-stone bags of Minstrels!”
Tara raised a smile. “Well, everything’s arranged and, to be honest, I don’t think Natalie would hear of it if I told her we weren’t coming. Let’s just say she’s a pretty determined girl.”
Liz sat back and stared out at the London streets, which were today covered with mist and rain. “I’m looking forward to meeting her and this lovely boyfriend of hers.”
“Yes,” Tara replied, hoping she’d be able to get through tonight without letting Natalie know she was off form. She knew how much Natalie was looking forward to their visit and showing off Jay. She really didn’t want to ruin it for her. “It should be an interesting night all right.”
That evening, Liz checked her appearance in the mirror for what must have been the thousandth time in the last hour. Not that it mattered an iota what she looked like in the scheme of things, she thought guiltily. Here she was, idiotically concerned about her clothes, when poor old Tara, who was getting ready in the hotel room’s en suite bathroom, was going through a terrible time with Glenn.
Liz still couldn’t believe that he’d got some girl pregnant. Who’d have thought he had it in him? Especially when he’d never really seemed that interested in anything other than computers and bloody football! But, as that old saying went, she thought sadly, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.
And now poor Tara was devastated over it.
Liz sighed. She hated herself for it, but for one brief second when Tara was explaining how she’d suspected that Glenn might have been Emma’s mystery man, she’d almost hoped it were true.
Not that she’d ever wish something like that on Tara – no way – but from a purely selfish point of view, it would have meant that she could finally rule out it being Eric. And Liz wanted that more than anything else: she wanted to know for certain that her husband hadn’t been unfaithful to her, that his association with Tara’s sister was based purely on an old friendship and nothing more.
And discovering that someone else was the baby’s father would certainly give her that. Although it was awful to think that Glenn and Emma could have been . . . Liz shivered at the notion of it. Still, there was that horrible tiny part of her that had grasped at the explanation, and now she despised herself for it.
Why would she want to visit such a thing on Tara – her best friend of many years, the friend who’d been there for her through thick and thin, and in fairness probably suspected too that Liz was worried about Eric’s part in this, but was too much of a friend to vocalise it?
Instead she’d chosen to support Liz as much as she could, by offering to baby-sit Toby so Liz could spend some time alone with Eric, and getting her out of the house nights – and then at the first opportunity Liz goes and wishes that.
It was pathetic, she was pathetic, and the more she thought about it, the more she decided that when she got home she was going to face up to the problems in her marriage once and for all. If it meant she had to face up to the fact that Eric had done the unthinkable, then she’d just have to do it. After all, Tara had had to face worse than this, much more, and she’d come through it all, hadn’t she?
Even now, at her lowest ebb, Tara was still putting a brave face on things – trying to overcome and put aside her hurt and disappointment with Glenn, at least for the moment. And although her friend looked wonderful in the black trousers and Karen Millen jade-green velvet and lace cami-top she was wearing tonight, there was no mistaking the pain behind her eyes.
“Will we go?” Tara said, as Liz couldn’t help checking her reflection once more.
God, thought Liz, could she not stop obsessing about stupid trivial things? With all that was going on, she should have more bloody sense! But at this stage, her self-esteem was almost at rock bottom and her insecurity now second nature. Another reason, she thought, to confront the situation when she got home.
“Are you sure you’re OK to do this?” Liz asked again, deciding that it was about time she started acting like a proper friend. “We could always call Natalie and cancel, say you’ve got a headache or something.”
Tara managed a rueful laugh. “Believe me, Natalie would be over here with the cavalry and armed with a multi-pack of Paracetamol! No, it’s fine, Liz, honestly, and in all fairness it might be the best thing for me – help me to take my mind off Glenn for a while.”
“Well, as long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” Tara replied and the two closed the hotel room door behind them and headed off to the West End to meet Natalie and man-of-the-moment, Jay.
At first, Liz didn’t actually notice anything out of the ordinary. Anything, that was, other than the restaurant’s wonderful décor and its remarkably welcoming and friendly maitre d’ as he took their coats. And of course she was too busy trying to spot well-known faces amongst the tables to concentrate too much on who they were meeting.
But as they approached their table, at which sat a woman so incredibly stunning she would make Jennifer Lopez feel like Quasimodo, she noticed Tara suddenly stiffen and then stop dead in her tracks.
“Are you OK?” she queried, as the gorgeous woman – evidently Natalie – smiled and waved in their direction. Liz put a hand on Tara’s arm. “Because you know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want –”
“Sweet Jesus, don’t do this to me,” Tara whispered, and when Liz glanced quickly at her friend, she realised that Tara was speaking, not to her, but almost to herself. “Please, don’t do this to me – not now!”
Confused, Liz followed Tara’s gaze to the table where Natalie and her companion, a tall and, fittingly, equally attractive man, watched their approach.
Then, properly catching sight of the man, she blinked and looked again, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. Could it be? But how . . .?
Then, as she and Tara drew nearer, her friend moving alongside her as if in a daze, Liz took a better look.
No, it wasn’t who she’d thought it was at first, but by God there was one hell of a resemblance! Obviously Tara had noticed it too, which was why she was acting so strangely.
But when he finally turned his face to the light, Liz realised she did recognise this man, but when she’d seen him he’d been much younger and much less distinguished, standing alongside her best friend who was dressed in a cerise-pink taffeta dress.
“Tara,” she said in hushed tones, almost stopping too as the image from the photograph Colm had shown her flashed into her memory, “isn’t that – ?”
“Yes,” her friend replied shakily, before Liz had a chance to finish the question.
“Yes, it is.”