Fur Coat No Knickers (33 page)

To my sister Tara (AKAhead nut case
)


By now I hope you
are well on the way to feeling better. If you wanna do drugs in the future, come to me and I’ll get them sorted for you, but you have to share them. (Only joking).

M
ammy and Laura have told me that your baby oven has blown its fuse and over-heated itself and can’t be repaired.

I’d just like to let you know
… my oven is your oven. I have already discussed this situation with James. He’s offered to have a party in his designer pants. So between James and I, we can make you a sprog.

Siobhan wants to be the birthing partner.

Think about it. I love you.

Katie x

For a while I said nothing, I let the thoughts of what I had just read run through my head like cool water on a migraine.

‘You okay?’ they both asked in soft
, comforting voices.

My voice was constricted with joy. I grabbed both their hands in gratitude, injecting love into them.

‘To absent friends,’ sniffed Siobhan handing brimming glasses of wine to James and me and raising her own glass.

‘To Katie,’ I s
obbed, shocked by her thoughtfulness and surprise offer of becoming a surrogate mother for me.

‘And Barry,’
toasted Siobhan, ‘may God forgive me for singeing his bollocks. May he be resting in plastic heaven.’

‘To Katie and Barry,’ we all cheered tearfully.

Though
Siobhan and James were exhausting, it was so good to see them both again. To be honest, I felt more energised by their visit than the endless hours I spent talking with Laura. Maybe I am being unfair here. I know Laura had done an awful lot to help my recovery. Feck, without her I’d still be gibbering in my bed, or worse.

My reunion with Siobhan and James forced me to face up to what I
was going to do about the Salon. As we talked about the various options, I realised how strongly I felt about the place. I was proud of it. I didn’t want to give it up.

As if Laura hadn’t taken enough on her plate, she decided to ta
ke charge of a plan to get the Salon back up and running. That also meant taking charge of Siobhan and James who were both eager to get involved, but taking charge of those two wasn't for the faint-hearted. Laura was pretty good at it though. She held court with the two of them, pointing out random facts, figures and preaching about ‘synergising’. Neither Siobhan nor James questioned or dared to refuse Laura’s suggestions.

My sister declared that our
first mission was to get money coming in again, as I had not even managed to pay my mortgage, let alone the rent on the Salon or staff wages.

It didn’t help that financially I was an absolute mess. I needed to raise cash
(and fast).

‘Open a high-class brothel,’ James suggested
, ‘you can be the Madame - actually, on second thoughts… Captain Laura can be the Madame. No one would dare mess with her. She could whip anyone into place with that tongue of hers. I can so see her as a dominatrix, tying up a man-slave to a bed and whipping his poor ass. Scary thought,’ shivered James.

‘I’ve got it!’ piped up Siobhan, slapping her thigh with excitement. ‘You can still sel
l your story, it’s not too late! Do a ‘kiss and tell’ on that gobshite Travis. Call it… Death at the Blarney Stone.’

‘I can’t do that,’ I said, speaking with conviction. ‘I wouldn't lower myself. Plus, I would have to re-live the whole poxy ordeal all over again. No, that’s definitely not the answer.’

‘Don't be a wuss, he deserves it,’ Siobhan assured me fluttering her hands excitedly. ‘The world needs to know what he did to you.’

‘Siobhan, I really don't want the world to know that he broke my heart and got a girl half my age pregnant.’

‘I don’t mean that bit. I mean the bit where he slithered his slippery finger in your tea-towel holder.’

‘NO WAY! Jesus,’ I huffed, hysteria beginning to bubble below the surface
, ‘I would never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again!’

In the end
, I turned down most of their wackier ideas. I did, however, relent to selling some of my stuff, even that poisonous fur coat. Mum had done a fantastic invisible mend on the sleeve before she and Katie had gone back to Dublin. I let Siobhan open me up a new eBay account and do the listings for me:

Seller: Gay-bay69

For sale

Dolce and Gab
bana Mink Fur Coat

As new, apart from left arm that has been sewn back into place,
(easily unpicked though, if you wish to cut other arm off using this fine fur as a long, trendy gilet instead). Could also be used as a rug for shagging on in front of a cosy fire.

Has been
nearly
touched by high profile celeb, who will remain anonymous for
now
.

All offers will be considered.

After that, Siobhan and James rummaged through my wardrobe, sourcing bits to sell. In no time at all they had amassed an impressive pile of my beautiful
, once prized-handbags, designer clothes and even my jewellery. Everything was slapped on eBay and I really didn’t care one bit.

Laura placed an advert
on line asking for experienced staff to replace Jayde and Jackie. When I thought about the pair of them, it made me feel so sad. I missed Jackie and I missed the Jayde that I once knew. I still found it so shocking that Jayde would even consider having an affair with Jackie’s husband.

Poor Jackie. Poor,
poor Jackie. We’d both gone through similar situations in the recent past. Both our men had gone off with younger women. The thought sent shivers down my spine. Jackie had been with her husband since they were teenagers.
How was she coping? I wished she would make contact.

My mind wandered once more to Travis and his young
, pregnant girlfriend. She would be due soon. My mouth filled with acidic vomit at the thought.
Stop thinking like that, Tara,
I chided myself.
It’s over! You are better off without him. You’ve got lots of good things to look forward to.

When the dreaded day of the interviews came, I have to confess I didn’t feel positive at all. I had to bring myself to face the
busy outside world for the first time in months. The interviews were to be held at the Salon, because I couldn’t very well invite candidates to my sickbed. There were two positions to be filled; one to run and manage the hairdressing, the other to look after the beauty side.

As I tried to work out what I should wear,
I noticed the days where I obsessed about what I looked like, were long gone. I managed to get myself dressed in something other than a tracksuit to appease Laura, throwing on some skinny jeans, a dark blue sweater and some comfy old brown boots. I scraped what was left of my now-very-thin hair into a ponytail and applied a little mascara.

Arriving at the
Salon like greeting an old ghost. Memories flashed through my mind as I stood hesitating outside the front door. Eventually, after waiting respectfully for a few moments, Laura impatiently grabbed the keys and opened the door. She held the door wide and motioned that I should go in. After taking a deep breath, I entered Glamma-Puss once again

As the familiar sights and smells filled my head, my eyes flooded with tears. I trembled from head to toe as Laura held out her hand to encourage me further inside.

‘Tara, it’s okay. What you’re experiencing is just association,’ she said reassuringly. ‘It’s normal and it’s okay.’

Slowly letting go of her hand
, I walked around the Salon; taking in the old smells, remembering flashes of laughter, scenes of sadness and the place where I once stood allowing Travis to take advantage of me.

My eyes travelled over to the staffroom where I once sat for hours having text-sex with Travis. Of course, I also spent
more hours in there on edge and staring at the walls waiting for texts from him too. It all felt like a lifetime ago. The Salon was cold, lifeless even. There was dust and grime everywhere. It was as though someone had died in there. My heart and my head pounded with the memories.

‘Greetings, ladies!’ James choruse
d as he came bounding into the Salon. ‘How are you, Lady Laura?’ he enquired with a curtsey. ‘You okay, Tara, darling? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost. Shall I pop the kettle on?’

T
he very fact James was here made everything feel better. Within moments, the music was playing, the kettle was boiling and it felt quite… dare I say, ‘normal’ (whatever that was).

The roar of a motorbike outside interrupted my thoughts. James almost knocked me over as he dashed to the window to take a peek.

‘Oh my,’ James drooled, shaking his head from side to side whilst peeking thr
ough the Salon window, ‘utterly, slutterly gorgeous.’

‘Is she?’ I asked very nervously, hoping she wasn't
that
beautiful.

‘Not
her
.
Him.
I love, love,
love
a man in black skintight leathers. And look how he’s parked to the left. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on his helmet.’

‘James, please come away from the window, you’re making me jumpy,’ I begged.

James completely ignored me as he raced to get to the door first.

‘Well
… hello gorgeous man, come in, come in,’ he simpered. ‘Oh sorry -
and
you dear - I didn’t see you there.
Where are my manners?’

‘James, it’s Camilla that’s come for the interview, not her boyfriend,’ I said, feeling slightly exasperated. Not for the first time, I wondered if I had the strength for James’ antics.

‘Hello, you must be Tara,’ announced Camilla, removing her helmet and giving me a smile. ‘Sorry for the entrance. My car is in for a service, so my brother Lewis brought me here. Please excuse my flat helmet hair,’ she added, fluffing it back into place.

I liked her instantly.

‘Ah, your
brother,
even better,’ James exclaimed, his eyes practically raping the poor man. ‘Your brother must come in and wait for you, I absolutely insist. I’m more than happy to keep him company. You don’t mind, do you Tara?’ said James, as he pulled Camilla’s brother past me.

‘Well, I, erm…
yeah I…’ I stammered.
The little bastard, that’s the last thing I want! Why does he always put me into awkward situations like this?’

‘Marvellous, m
agnificent. That’s settled then. In you both pop. Come along…’ James said over his shoulder, already halfway into the Salon with Lewis in tow.

‘Laura, I need y
ou… I need you right now please!’ I called into the staffroom where she had disappeared to use the computer. Meanwhile I glared at James with gritted teeth as he ignored me.

‘My my…
what a beautiful big thing you have parked there Mister… err… err…’ said James, planting himself in front of Lewis in his most provocative pose.

‘
Lewis. My name’s Lewis,’ he smiled.

Glancing over nervously
, I could see Lewis looked amused by the exchange, but luckily not too phased.

‘Yep
, she’s a Ducati 998 S,’ he went on.

‘How does it feel to have something so big and throbbing between your legs?’ asked James. ‘Is it as wide as it looks? I’d just love to take a ride on it. By the look of it, I might be a little sore afterwards, but I’m sure I can take it.’

‘James - can you take Lewis into the staffroom, please?’ I tried to stay calm and professional, but by now I was fuming with him. I didn’t want him to blow my chance of getting decent staff because of his ridiculous flirting.

‘Sorry, Tara, I can see it’s inconvenient for me to stay,’ said Lewis
, turning to me apologetically. ‘Shall I pop back and pick Camilla up after the interview? How long do you think you’ll be? An hour?’

Great. Now I look like a total bitch as well as a loon.

‘No, no it’s fine, I just wasn't expecting… erm…’ Then I dried up. I didn’t know what else to say. It had been a while since I had spoken to anyone outside my close-knit group of family and friends. Why did the first person have to be an Adonis on a motorbike? I was too scared to even make eye contact, but strangely, he looked vaguely familiar.

I turned back to James,
‘James, make some drinks please, while Laura and I have a chat with Camilla. And James, behave yourself, please…’

‘Don’t worry, Tara darling, Lewis i
s in safe hands with me,’ James said, sounding very sensible (even though his facial expression said otherwise).

Forc
ing myself to focus on the here-and-now, I politely smiled at Lewis, but I still wouldn’t allow my eyes to meet with his.

Laura and I sat down with Camilla. The interview lasted much longer than I wanted it to, but Laura b
eing Laura and a complete ‘jobs worth’ went through every detail of Camilla’s CV, then insisted that Camilla cut and blow-dry my hair. I really didn’t want her to, as I still had bald patches in my hair where I’d pulled out some of my extensions. All I knew was my hair needed a break and so did I. Meanwhile, all I could hear was James laughing and giggling in the staffroom. It was very distracting.

As Camilla fussed around with my hair, I half-heartedly asked her what she would advise if I were a client.

‘She could do with a really short, classic hair style,’ interrupted Laura, ‘no more of that porn star bleached mass… but of course, Tara,’ she said, back-peddling, ‘you know it’s completely up to you.’

‘Laura!
’ I hissed completely irritated whilst desperately trying to smooth my voice down. ‘I know I’m in the bloody menopause, but does my hair
have to look
a siren stating that?’