Page 4 of Fling

But now that Tara was talking about giving up on starting a family, he knew sex wouldn’t even serve a purpose any more. Her rash decision meant the light at the end of Colin’s tunnel had suddenly vanished. He knew the birth of their child would usher in a rebirth of their love. But if Tara gave up, how would they ever reignite that illusive spark?

He wondered what the rest of his life would look like without his ambition of becoming a dad ever coming to fruition. It was inconceivable to him. The life he had mapped out with Tara, gone in an instant. She wanted to let fate take the wheel, but he feared they were heading towards a cliff. Colin felt a chill in the car as he thought about the life he had built and the uncertainty of its future.

When they arrived home, the day had already begun to fade. Tara sat back up straight as Colin pulled onto Hillcrest Grove, the picturesque cul-de-sac on Dublin’s well-to-do Southside where they lived. Hillcrest was the perfect neighbourhood. Too perfect. The lawns were always freshly cut, the Range Rovers were recently washed and the teeth were brightly bleached. Having been raised in the Galway countryside, Tara always felt like an outsider in Hillcrest. She found it so strange that the idea of ‘suburbia’ had crept into everyday Irish life. It all felt like an empty reference, a copy of something that never even existed in the first place. She was used to stone walls, not white picket fences. It was an uncanny veneer of perfection, a hyperreal curtain behind which lay nothing. But nonetheless, the show had to go on.

As they approached their driveway, Tara could see their neighbour Celine Loftus out on her front lawn, taking a selfie while gardening. Celine had ten thousand followers on social media and therefore considered herself to be an ‘influencer’. Tara knew a narcissist when she saw one and Celine was more full of herself than a Russian doll. She looked down on anyone who wasn’t a pure-bred Southsider and Tara had privately christened her the Wicked Witch of the South as a result of her snobbery.

Unfortunately, Celine did not have the appearance of a witch. On the contrary, she was sickeningly perfect. Bouncy blonde hair, high cheekbones and a pair of double D breasts that practically deserved their own Eircode. The women of Hillcrest worshipped the ground Celine walked on due to her number of followers, and they all worked as brand ambassadors for her vitamin company called Yummy Mummy. Although Tara couldn’t prove it, her gut told her that Celine’s business strategy was simply a pyramid scheme in disguise. Sadly, the Yummy Mummies were in far too deep to question their charismatic cult leader and so the pyramid continued to grow. Celine had tried to recruit Tara years ago but she had seen right through her cult-like tactics. As a result, Celine and Tara became instant frenemies, killing each other with kindness whenever they crossed paths.

Celine spotted Tara and Colin driving past her house and began waving them down frantically as if she had urgent news.

‘Oh God,’ Tara said to Colin. ‘Celine is calling us. I still can’t believe you told her we were doing IVF. She loves having that over me.’ Tara rolled down her window and put on a fake smile.

‘Well hello, you two, I was just out sowing some seeds. Tara, you look terrible, is everything OK?’ Celine said, leaning in to examine her face.

‘Oh yeah, I’m fine. We were just out shopping and I didn’t bother putting any make-up on,’ Tara lied. She didn’t want Celine gossiping yet again.

‘Well, good for you not caring what people think. I’ve always admired your confidence,’ Celine said.

The only thing worse than Celine’s insults were her compliments. Whenever she would say something flattering, it always had a malicious undertone. Her backhanded compliments were like a warm hug followed by a cold knife in the back.

‘Can we help you with something, Celine?’ Tara asked, cutting to the chase.

Celine leaned in closer to the car. ‘I just wanted to let you know before I announce it on social media tonight . . . I’M PREGNANT!’

Tara felt a sharp pain in her heart. Destiny was just rubbing salt in the wound at this stage.

‘Congrats, Celine,’ Colin said, leaning over.

‘Thank you both so much. Four months already if you can believe it! I really wanted to have a third child before I turned thirty-five. I could just hear my biological clock going tick-tock, tick-tock, every single night,’ she laughed.

Tara knew that this was a dig at her. Celine’s tactlessness was always intentional. She also knew exactly what the next question would be.

‘What about the two of you? A little bird told me you haven’t been having much luck with IVF,’ Celine said, feigning concern. ‘You know, the top fertility specialist in the country is a dear follower of mine.’

‘I think the phrase is “dear friend”,’ Tara muttered.

‘Well, he would do anything for me. He has a ninety per cent IVF success rate. Say the word and I’ll get you on his client list.’

Tara could see this coming a mile away. Like all cult leaders, Celine employed the rule of reciprocity. If she did something for you, she would one day come to collect. With Celine, there was always a price, and Tara wasn’t interested in making a deal with the devil, no matter how angelic she appeared.

‘That would be amazing, Celine,’ Colin butted in. Tara gave him a discreet elbow in the side.

‘No thank you, Celine,’ Tara said. ‘We’ll be fine.’

‘Of course, Tara. But please let me know if you change your mind. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for a fellow Girl Boss. And don’t listen to what people say. You are not past your prime,’ Celine said, with bright teeth and a dark smile.

Tara put up her window, relieved the conversation was over.

‘That IVF friend of hers sounds promising. She might be able to help us, Tara,’ Colin said, pulling into their driveway.

‘She doesn’t want to help us. She wants to own us. It’s all just a ploy to turn me into another Yummy Mummy, trapped in her pyramid scheme so she can feel like Cleopatra. Trust me, if you ask Celine for help, you’ll end up regretting it.’

‘She was trying to be nice, Tara,’ he sighed.

It never ceased to amaze her how little men knew about women. Then again, Celine had everyone fooled. Only Tara knew she was too sweet to be wholesome.

When she got out of the car, Tara looked up at 3 Hillcrest Grove. The setting sun was casting warm shades of blood orange onto the front of their house, like something out of an impressionist painting. It reminded Tara of when she first saw the home. Just like the moment she first saw Colin, Tara had experienced a synchronicity and she intuitively knew the house would one day be her own.

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