All Because of You (Lakeview #2) (2 page)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you need to do today to ensure that you attend the next aqua-aerobics class?”

“I need to ring Sinéad and arrange it.”

“What time will you ring her?”

“Well, she gets back from the school run around four. I might ring her then.”

“So you’re committed to ringing Sinéad this afternoon between four and five o’clock to arrange to go the next aqua-aerobics class, yes?”

Mary nodded once more. “Definitely yes.”

“Great, Mary. I look forward to hearing all about it at our next session.” Tara was feeling a little drained by the repetitive and rather patronising process of getting Mary some way committed to attaining fitness. But she’d achieved it (for the moment at least) and that, after all, was what any Life Coach worth her salt wanted. 

Poor Mary was a good three stone overweight, and if she wasn’t careful, was heading for chronic obesity. Having tried every fad diet under the sun, she’d eventually contacted Tara to see if there was anything she could do to help her lose the weight.  From the outset, Tara was careful to distinguish between ‘becoming healthy’ which had positive connotations, and ‘losing weight’ which had negative connotations, and (as every woman who’d ever tried to lose a few pounds knew) naturally fostered mental resistance. And in Tara’s view, the only way clients could achieve their goals was to feel that responsibility for that success lay with them, rather than her. 

But today, at least, she’d helped get Mary back on track.

Mary stood up and picked up her jacket. “So, I’ll see you when you get back, then. Enjoy your holiday.” Then she added, winking, “I’d say it’ll be relief to get away from all of us whingers for a while!”

“Don’t be silly, Mary, I love my job,” Tara said, good-humouredly as she saw her out the door of her office. “It’s very fulfilling. As I told you the very first day I met you, I’m in show business and – ”

“I know,” Mary repeated, grinning, her earlier bad humour now well evaporated. “You
show
people how to achieve the life they want!”

She waved goodbye to Mary – her final appointment for the evening – then closed the door of her office and went into the main house. Although ‘office’ was a bit of an overstatement, as it was actually the converted front room of her own house (yet another overstatement as the house was rented – there wasn’t a hope of her and Glenn being able to afford exorbitant office rates). But the room was quiet, restful and its homely qualities actually seemed to put clients at ease. People often mentioned that they felt as though they’d just popped over to a friend’s house for a cup of tea and a chat, which was exactly the cosy atmosphere Tara had been aiming for, rather than the stuffy and sometimes overwhelming surroundings often associated with counselling or therapy. 

While there were links between therapy and life coaching, the latter had very different techniques and methodologies. Unlike psychology or psychiatry, coaching did not deal with diseases of body and mind – instead it helped with issues of self-esteem, or inability to achieve desired goals. And today in post-Celtic Tiger Ireland, it seemed there was no shortage of dissatisfied individuals seeking assistance in finding what they really wanted out of life.

Although admittedly, she thought, going upstairs to change, it had taken Irish people some time to
get used to the idea of using life coaches, and she knew there were still many who viewed it with suspicion. But life coaching was ultimately all about results and in this regard, Tara’s track record spoke for itself. 

When she first set up the consultancy three years back, business had been slow, but following some aggressive marketing and a series of talks at local business groups, women’s clubs and organisations, she began to pick up clients here and there, and after a year to eighteen months, began to get many, many more through referrals.  These days, her services were in so much demand that new clients could be waiting up to three or four weeks for an appointment. Also, in addition to individual face-to-face appointments, Tara also ran face
less
coaching sessions and, sometimes, after finishing a long day seeing clients either in the office or out of it, she spent a further few hours holding online or telephone sessions for people who were uncomfortable with meeting her face to face, or who lived too far away to do so. 

So, after spending three solid years building the consultancy to such a level (with darling Glenn supporting her massively from the sidelines) she felt that this year they just might be justified in taking a  well-earned break, and the following Wednesday they were heading off for a ten-night holiday in Sharm El Sheikh on the Red Sea. 

“Egypt?” he’d moaned, when Tara had announced she’d booked their first holiday abroad in years. “Does this mean you’ll be dragging me around the place looking at dead mummies and ancient tombs?”

“No, it means that we’ll be sunning ourselves under blue skies and in thirty-five-degree sun, instead of facing the autumn wind and rain here,” Tara had explained.  And when she’d pointed out in the brochure the glorious five-star hotel she’d chosen, there hadn’t been another word out of him.

They both really needed this holiday. Glenn had been working like a demon lately; in fact, he’d had to beg for the time off from Pixels, the computer firm in which he worked. Unlike him, Tara didn’t have to beg for time off from anyone. Anyone other than her own conscience anyway, she thought ruefully.

Having changed out of the skirt and blouse she wore for seeing clients into a more comfortable sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, Tara went back downstairs and into the kitchen.

When she came in, she found Glenn sitting at the counter eating takeaway pizza and looking so utterly handsome that her heart skipped a beat. With his almost jet-black hair, liquid brown eyes and naturally sallow skin, Glenn was the kind of guy that always turned heads and not for the first time, Tara couldn’t quite get her head around the fact that he was really hers.

“I thought you were making dinner?” she said, referring acidly to the pizza. Although she loved the stuff, she knew it wouldn’t do her figure any good to be munching on cheese and pepperoni stodge after a day’s work. 

“I did – well, Four Star Pizza did,” he replied, shrugging. “I didn’t have time to make anything else. I’m due  at work in an hour.” Glenn had recently begun working overtime at Pixels in the run up to their holiday.

Tara looked at the clock. It was almost six  and she’d promised her mum she’d be at her place soon after seven. Blast it – she didn’t really have time to make anything else either – the Friday evening traffic out of
Dublin was bound to be mental.

“Just don’t make a habit of this, OK?” she said, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a huge satisfying bite of it. “Otherwise, we’ll both end up looking like the Michelin Man.”

“No worries. From now on, I solemnly swear to make the boring chicken and vegetable pasta we usually have.”

“It’s not boring, Glenn, it’s
healthy
, and you could do with keeping an eye on what you eat now and again,” she said, conscious that she was still in life-coaching mode but unable to switch off. “All that Red Bull rubbish you drink is not good for you. It’s full of caffeine.”

“Tools of the trade,” he
said, his mouth open as he ate and Tara elbowed him.

“Were you brought up or dragged up?” she teased, shaking her head in exasperation.  His job as a system’s analyst necessitated working long hours in front of a PC and like many other habitual computer users, he relied on caffeine to keep him going. 

His choice of career seemed inevitable given that he’d had an irreversible bond with computers since his first Nintendo and even when not at work could barely stay out of cyberspace for more than a couple of hours. Tara had long since got used to the clattering of the keyboard from his study which, depending on whatever system he was trying to hack into, could often be heard till the early hours of the morning.

“Are you finished for the day then?” he asked, eyeing her casual clothes.

“Finished for two long weeks you mean,” she replied with a self-satisfied sigh. “I can’t wait for this Glenn, I really can’t. Imagine two whole blissful weeks without work.”

“Hmm, it remains to be seen how blissful it’ll be.” He was still convinced he’d be roped into discovering the more ‘cultural’ side of Egypt. “Knowing you, we mightn’t even get a chance to relax.”

“Love believe me, we’ll be doing lots of relaxing! And I’m going to make the most of being off-duty for a change. But speaking of duty,” she looked up again at the clock, “I’d better get a move on. I told Mum I’d be down soon after seven.” She grabbed a napkin and began to wipe her sticky fingers. 

“Oh, I forgot you were heading down to
Lakeview for the night,” Glenn said, scooping up another slice. “Say hi to them all for me.”

“I will.” Then, catching sight of the pile of rubbish for recycling in the corner of the kitchen by th
e back door, Tara sighed. “Damn. I meant to drop all that off to the centre today,” she said, eyeing the tidily bound newspapers, crushed aluminium cans and washed glass bottles. “I’ll hardly have time to do it now and the stuff is really piling up.”

“I’ll look after it. Although I still can’t understand why you don’t just throw the whole lot in the wheelie bin and be done with it, instead of all these treks to and from the recycling centre.”

Tara fixed him with a look. “Because unlike you Glenn, I’m quite happy to do every little bit I can to help clean up our environment – while we’re here it’s the very least we can do and – ”

“I know, I know,” he interjected wearily, having heard the same argument many times before. “It’s the least we can do, and future generations will thank us for it. And how will they do that incidentally? Send us a postcard or something?”

When Tara didn’t seem to find this funny, he raised his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat. “OK, OK, I said I’d do it, didn’t I? Anything to make you happy.”

“Anything to make me stop me naggi
ng you maybe,” Tara said with a grin. “And you might as well get rid of that pizza box while you’re at it – don’t forget clean it off first though.”

“Yes, m
aster, whatever you say, master…” Glenn replied, bowing his head exaggeratedly at her bossy tone.

“Oh, give over.
” 

Leaving him to finish the last of the pizza, Tara went to check her appearance in the hallway mirror. She wiped a very obvious splodge of tomato sauce from her face and quickly applied a coat of lipstick before running a brush through her fair hair. 

Then she went back into the kitchen and gave Glenn – who had another huge slice of pizza in his mouth mid-bite – a quick kiss on the cheek, before picking up her jacket and bag and heading for the front door. “See you tomorrow night, darling – don’t work too hard!”

“I won’t … oh and be sure to let me know what they think of the car!” he shouted to her retreating back. “
I bet that’ll get some reaction.”

Tara grimaced as she closed the front door behind her. She’d forgotten all about the fact her parents hadn’t yet seen the new car. 

Well, it would get a reaction all right, she thought, as she reversed out of the driveway and drove off in the direction of Wicklow, although hardly the one that Glenn anticipated.

She smiled to herself as she drove along the dual carriageway, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face. Despite the late hour, the sun was still shining, the sky was blue; everything was so perfect, you’d think whoever was in charge of the weather had given her this fabulous evening on purpose.

Of course, she always looked forward to returning home to Lakeview, a small, picturesque and hugely popular tourist village some twenty miles outside of Dublin city, and again she wondered if she and Glenn should think seriously about moving back to live there. But Glenn loved living in the city and with the majority of Tara’s clientele to be found in the capital, it wouldn’t be practical just yet. But it was certainly something to think about for the future.

She put the convertible into fifth gear and deftly moved into the fast lane, only remembering to check her rear-view mirror at the very last minute.
Eeek!
Her heart lurched, but luckily there was nothing behind her. She exhaled deeply and shook her head from side to side. It was all very well being in a good mood, but she really should be more careful – especially when driving this bloody thing.

Approaching a set of traffic lights on red further down the road, Tara eased off on the accelerator. Typical – once you got stopped at the first s
et, you got stopped at them all she groaned, tapping her nails against the steering wheel impatiently.  Then, vaguely sensing she was being watched, she looked to her left and spotted the driver of the car alongside flash her an appreciative smile. 

Tara reddened and looked away, desperately willing the lights to change. She supposed she should be used to the attention by now, the sporty Renault cabriolet turning heads wherever they went – much to Glenn’s delight – but Tara always felt like such a bloody poser in this thing.