Free Last Chance Saloon by Marian Keyes

surname. A hard-faced chain-smoker, afflicted with a hacking cough, who complained bitterly about the mess. Everyone was terrified of her, and wouldn’t dare get over-familiar. She had probably been
born
Mrs Twyford.
    Katherine gave Joe her Scary Look, grade four. This was a terrifying glare that flooded men with unexpected, shocking fear. It was only a couple of grades below the Medusa Look, and she’d sometimes nearly frightened herself as she honed and perfected it in front of her bedroom mirror. But before she could tell him in icy tones that no one was allowed to abbreviate her name, Joe asked, a twinkle in his friendly browneyes, ‘Ooh, toothache? Nasty! Or have you got something in your eye?’
    ‘Um, neither,’ Katherine muttered, liberating her face muscles from their narrow-eyed, teeth-baring rictus.
    ‘And why are you here today?’ Joe asked.
    ‘I don’t normally work weekends,’ she said politely, looking up at him, ‘but it’s the end of the accounting year so I’m very busy.’
    ‘I love that accent of yours,’ Joe said, with a sunbeam smile. ‘I could listen to it all day.’
    ‘I’m afraid you’ll never get that opportunity.’ Katherine gave a chilly smirk.
    Joe looked mildly shocked, then soldiered on. ‘Is there any point asking you to have lunch with me, then?’
    ‘None,’ she said, shortly. ‘Why don’t you leave me alone?’
    ‘Why don’t I leave you alone?’ Joe mused. ‘I’ll tell you. As a very wise man once said, let me see, what was the exact phrase…?’ Joe stared thoughtfully into the middle distance. ‘Oh, yes!’ he said. ‘ “I’ve got you under my skin.” ’
    ‘Is that right? Well, in the words of one of my heroes, the great humanist Rhett Butler…’ Katherine retorted crisply ‘…“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” ’
    ‘Ach, she’s cruel, so cruel,’ Joe gasped, staggering around in front of her desk, as though he’d been stabbed.
    She looked at him with steady contempt. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do,’ she said, turning to her screen.
    ‘How about a drink after work, then?’ he suggested, brightly.
    ‘Which part of the word “no” is it that you don’t understand? The N or the O?’
    ‘You’re breaking my heart.’
    ‘Good.’
    He stared, in admiration. ‘You’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.’
    ‘You’d want to get out more.’
    Joe, an intelligent man, knew when he was wasting his time. ‘No further questions,’ he said crisply, like a young, keen, cross-examining attorney. He’d hoped Katherine would laugh. She didn’t. Joe took his leave. ‘I ought to go and see a man about some tampons. But as the great savant and philosopher Arnold Schwarzenegger once said…’ he paused for emphasis, leant close to Katherine, then whispered hoarsely ‘…
I’ll be back
…’
    With a twinkly smile, he walked away. Yes, she was definitely loosening up. Much more chatty, no doubt about it. At this rate of progress, in another ten years she might smile at him.
    Katherine watched him go. She knew she’d been gratuitously cruel. But she had to admit she’d enjoyed it. Guiltily, she thought about having a quick drink with him. But, no, she decided. Look at what happened the last time she’d gone out with someone. And the time before that.
    ‘You go, girl!’ Katherine heard Charmaine say. ‘He’s a babe!’
    She turned to berate her.
    ‘I know.’ Charmaine beat her to it. ‘Shut up and get back to breaking rocks on the chain-gang.’
    Later that day, Joe saw Katherine approach a Karmann Ghia, open it, swing her little bottom into it and drive away. He stared after her, transfixed, his admiration increased tenfold. A woman with a good body was a thing of beauty, but a woman with a good car, well…

9
    ‘Wear your red dress,’ Thomas coaxed, ‘you look right sexy in that.’
    ‘But we’re only going to the pictures.’ It was a while since she’d last worn it and Tara strongly