Women and War Read Online Free

his teeth. ‘Mr Maloney especially wanted to meet you.’
    Mr Maloney. Red. The name meant nothing to her.
    â€˜I’m feeling awful tired. I’ll be very bad company.’
    The eyes behind the cigar smoke narrowed a fraction more; they were little more than slits now.
    â€˜Don’t worry about it, Tara. Stay and relax for a little while and I’ll have my car drop you home afterwards. You won’t have to walk to Darlo tonight.’
    There was no escape and she sensed it. On the table in front of her the champagne sparkled invitingly. Tara raised the flute and drank and this time she enjoyed the sensation of the bubbles bursting on her tongue. When the flute was half empty Red Maloney motioned to a hostess to bring more and as he raised his hand Tara saw the solid gold cufflinks gleaming at his wrist. Interested, she took a closer look and saw that his wristwatch too was gold. Obviously a man of means. But it didn’t mean she liked him any better. For one thing he was thirty-five if he was a day; for another there was something vaguely frightening about him. Just what it was Tara was uncertain but it had to do with an instinct that told her he was very used to getting his own way, which was compounded by Ed’s attitude. Tara at fourteen had looked up to Ed as the height of successful sophistication; to see him now so ill at ease in the presence of this big powerful man was a chastening experience.
    An hour passed. The music became slower and sleepier, the couples dancing on the square of floor clung closer and the air became so thick with smoke that Tara’s eyes began to sting. But strangely she found she was caring less. If this was how champagne made you feel it was rather pleasant, she thought – even if her cheeks did feel flushed and the shell lights on the wall seemed to be moving in soft fuzzy circles. The company that had been forced upon her seemed more congenial too – even Ed had told one or two jokes that had actually made her giggle.
    She giggled again now, lifting her champagne glass and looking down into it. ‘ Oh, it’s all gone! What a pity!’
    Ed raised his hand to summon a hostess but Red Maloney stopped him.
    â€˜No. I think Miss Kelly is ready to go home now.’
    No one had ever called her Miss Kelly before. She giggled again. He stood up and she saw for the first time just what a big man he was – well over six feet tall and broad with it – but a breadth that came from physical exercise, not from sloth.
    â€˜Do you have a coat, Miss Kelly?’ he asked.
    She shook her head, holding her lip between her teeth because absurdly she still wanted to giggle. The bald-headed man, Jason, rose too; by the time Tara, leaning lightly against Red’s arm, reached the top of the stairs a huge black Cadillac was waiting at the kerb. Red held her back in the doorway while Jason got out and opened the rear passenger door, then he ushered her into the car and got in beside her.
    The fresh air had sobered her little; she looked around surprised to find herself surrounded by such luxuries as smoked glass windows and leather upholstery. Red touched a button and when a cocktail cabinet slid out at knee level, he poured himself a Scotch.
    â€˜Want one?’ he asked her.
    â€˜I don’t know … Can I taste?’
    He held the glass to her lips and the wafting smell reminded her so sharply of Mammy that she almost sobbed aloud. Then the fiery liquid was burning her throat, making her cough, and she forgot Mammy again.
    The car swept past Tooheys Brewery and began climbing the steep rise into Surrey Hills. Tara looked out at the pretty terraced cottages they were passing, three tiered and decorated with wrought iron lacework like an everlasting wedding cake. She loved these houses and had always dreamed that one day she might live in one of them instead of the squalid Darlo apartment she shared with Maggie. Now, in the cocooned luxury of the