Page 48 of Fling

‘Let me check,’ Tara said, peeking over her menu once again. She could see the Luas was now stopped at Dawson Street and Colin was no longer in his seat.

He was walking up the road towards The Vine. And he was closing in!

Tara’s heart was in her mouth.

‘Christ, he’s walking in my direction!’ Tara said in a complete fluster.

‘Abort mission. I repeat, ABORT MISSION!’ Emily shouted into the phone.

Tara stood up immediately but heard a sudden shriek behind her. The hostess had brought her glass of Malbec but Tara’s sudden movement had knocked the tray out of her hands.

The red wine spilled all over Tara’s dress, followed by the painful sound of the glass smashing on the ground. It all happened so fast that Tara didn’t have time to process the fact that her dress was destroyed. She needed to get as far away from The Vine as possible. Even though she hadn’t even said hello to Jack, it was time for an Irish goodbye.

‘Miss, I’m so sorry,’ the hostess said.

‘I need you to get me out of here. Is there a back door?’ Tara said, in crisis management mode.

‘Eh . . . yes . . . but please, let me . . .’

‘There’s no time. I need to leave right now,’ Tara insisted.

‘Follow me,’ the hostess said, leading Tara inside just in time to avoid Colin’s line of sight.

The hostess brought Tara back through the kitchen to an emergency fire exit.

‘Miss, I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t leave a bad review. I’ll be fired,’ the hostess pleaded.

‘I won’t – it was my fault, really. But could you do me one favour,’ Tara said.

‘Anything,’ the hostess replied.

‘If my date asks for me, pretend I was never here. This whole thing was a huge mistake,’ Tara said, walking out the back door.

Tara felt like she had avoided a car crash by a millimetre. Her heart was still racing. Her real life and her fantasy life had almost met in a head-on collision that would have proved fatal to her marriage. The thought alone made her feel sick. She knew she couldn’t meet Jack now. Not just because she was covered in red wine but because she realized she was playing too dangerous a game. Dublin was a small city, you couldn’t just openly have an affair on a veranda and expect no consequences. What had she been thinking? She waved down a taxi that was passing through the side street she found herself on. She got into the back seat and immediately reached into her handbag. She pulled out her wedding ring and put it back on her finger where it belonged.

‘Where ya headed, love?’ the taxi driver asked.

‘Home,’ she said, looking out the window as if she was in a Hollywood movie. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Sure I don’t know where ya feckin’ live,’ the taxi driver said, bringing her back down to earth.

‘Oh, sorry. Hillcrest Grove, please.’

Tara knew that any minute Jack would message her asking her where she was. She couldn’t bear the thought of reading it. She took out her phone and without even opening the app, she deleted Fling.

She let out a sigh of relief. How on earth had she almost risked her marriage to meet a complete stranger? The idea suddenly seemed beyond ludicrous. She had become intoxicated by her fantasy affair but she had sobered up fast. Although Jack had brought an end to her drought, his storm had almost left destruction in its wake. She was lucky to have got out unscathed.

Colin stood outside The Vine, looking around for any woman that might be Claire. He made eye contact with a few women passing by but they all just smiled awkwardly and kept walking. He asked the hostess if anyone had checked in under the name Jack, to which she replied, ‘No, sorry, I’m afraid not.’

Colin looked at his phone every thirty seconds to see if Claire’s green light would illuminate.

But it never did.

He stood there like a fool, desperately searching for someone who simply wasn’t coming.

Jack: Hey there, stranger. I’m outside now.

Text me when you’re here

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