Читать книгу Five French Hens - Judy Leigh - Страница 7

The five women emerged dripping from the pool, their skin tingling from the exercise. They formed a line unintentionally, five different heights and shapes wearing five different colours. Tess Watkins, blonde hair tied back in a little plait, was short and curvy in a turquoise blue tankini; Rose Grant, her grey-brown hair almost black now drenched with water, was in a sensible navy-blue swimsuit, neat and tidy. Della Donavan clambered out next, shapely in an orange floral swimsuit, her frosted dark curly hair glistening with pearl droplets of water. Then the smallest of the five, Jen Hooper, her shoulder length chestnut hair clipped to her head, wet tendrils dripping, her body slender and delicate in a cream swimsuit. Finally, towering over them all, Pam Marshall stood tall and willowy in a racer-back black swimsuit with blue and red stripes down one side. With her blonde pixie cut flattened against her head and her hands on her hips, she was athletic and broad shouldered. The friends giggled together, shaking water from tired limbs, moving towards the changing rooms, water dripping from their swimsuits. Tess’s voice rose over the laughter. ‘Well, Kathy certainly made us work hard today. I think we deserve some refreshment. Who’s up for a coffee and a slice of cake?’

Rose nodded. It was better than being home alone. Pam breathed out. ‘I’m gasping for a cool drink.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Tess’s voice was mock-indignant. ‘You were doing aqua aerobics for the five of us today.’

‘I’m worn out.’ Della puffed air from her mouth. ‘It was hard work. It’s supposed to help the aches in my bones but I’m exhausted. I thought it was meant to be gentle exercise.’

Pam snorted. ‘Exercise should never be gentle. It’s like life – we should throw ourselves in, give it 100 per cent, grab it by the balls.’

Jen’s face was thoughtful as she linked her fingers together and glanced at the new ring.

Tess hooted. ‘I can think of better balls to grab.’ She flicked water from her platinum hair. ‘Did you see the young man with the dark hair and the broad chest at the other end of the pool? Tight white Speedos? Just like Patrick Duffy in The Man from Atlantis, Remember him, girls?’

Della chuckled. ‘Oh, yes – he was very handsome.’ She nudged Pam, rolling her eyes. ‘But shouldn’t you be thinking about Alan’s balls, Tess?’

‘Alan knows where he can stick his balls. And his golf clubs.’

Tess and Della turned to each other, howling with laughter. Rose’s eyes were etched with concern. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say about your husband, Tess.’

‘It may be, but it’s true. That man is driving me mad.’ They were in the changing rooms, sorting through their sports bags. Tess picked up her towel, flinging it around her shoulders. ‘Alan’s at golf. I’m out with my friends, free and having fun. I’m going to start by enjoying an invigorating shower. Then I’m having a massive slice of cake.’

Pam turned to Jen, who was standing next to her, fidgeting with her hands. ‘Are you OK? You’re quiet today, Jen.’

Jen was distracted. ‘Oh, sorry – yes, I’m fine.’ She forced a giggle. ‘I’m looking forward to something sweet and tasty in the café.’

Tess squealed. ‘I bet. Are you still going out with that handsome man you met on the beach? Freddie or Eddie or whoever he is.’

Jen nodded, twisting the ring on her finger. She reached for her towel and smiled.

The table in the café was a mess: Rose wouldn’t have allowed the polished wooden one in her dining room to get in such a state. Tess covered her lips as she smiled – there were cake crumbs, paper wrappings, slops of coffee across the plastic surface. She imagined Alan’s face if he came home and their oak table was in such a state of disarray. Della swept crumbs into her hand. Pam was more concerned with finishing the contents of a second bottle of sparkling water and, when she dumped the empty container back on the table, it toppled over on its side, spattering little puddles in its wake. Rose wondered if Pam’s house was as untidy. She supposed since Pam had always been single, as far as she knew, no one had been around to complain about untidiness. But then, Pam had never had anyone to keep the house nice for either, she thought. Jen was unusually quiet, staring at her fingernails.

Della dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin and dropped it on her plate. ‘That was such good cake. Nearly as good as I make myself.’

Pam sank her teeth into her slice. ‘We deserve a treat.’ She thought for a moment. ‘It’s a shame we haven’t got a bottle of wine or two. I haven’t had a good celebration in ages.’

‘Are you thinking of a girls’ night out?’ Tess chewed at a fingernail. ‘What a lovely idea. We could get all dressed up, go somewhere nice…’

‘Dancing…’ Della suggested.

‘Clubbing,’ Tess offered. ‘There are some really great places for a rave-up in Exeter.’

‘Rave-up?’ Pam spluttered, wiping her mouth. ‘What decade are you in, Tess?’

Tess winked. ‘I don’t care as long as there are plenty of drinks flowing and some fun to be had.’

Rose pulled a thoughtful face. ‘What about a birthday? Who’s next? I’m not until December.’

‘A girls’ night out would be fab.’ Pam drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Do we need an excuse?’

‘We could just go out and party – without any excuse at all.’ Della chuckled.

Jen took a breath. It was time. This was her cue. She held out her left hand to reach for a slice of cake, wiggling her fingers exaggeratedly. Light caught the diamonds and they winked, shooting flashes of rainbow colour. Della sat up straight. ‘What’s that on your finger, girl?’

Three voices trilled at the same time. Tess leaned forward. ‘Oh my God, no! Tell me she hasn’t…’

Della sighed. ‘It’s a diamond ring. How beautiful…’

Pam screeched. ‘When did that happen?’

Jen’s face broke into a wide smile she couldn’t hold back. ‘Two days ago. Valentine’s night. Eddie asked me… and the next day, I said yes.’

Rose frowned. ‘It’s a bit quick, isn’t it? You’ve only known each other since Christmas. It takes me longer than that to decide which cut to get at the butcher’s.’

‘I think it’s lovely,’ Tess breathed. She was thinking of the emptiness of her own life when Alan was at golf, and how the walls held cold silence in them every day.

‘Congratulations.’ Pam banged a fist on the table. ‘Well, here’s our excuse for a night out.’

Della grabbed Jen’s hand. ‘What a wonderful ring. The diamonds are huge. Where did you buy it, Jen?’

Jen waved her hand for all to examine. ‘Eddie chose it. He just sprang it on me. He came in for coffee…’

‘Coffee…’ Della laughed.

‘I bet he did.’ Tess snorted.

‘… and he asked me to marry him and produced the ring. Of course, I did the sensible thing and asked for more time to think about it.’ She wiggled her finger again. ‘Then the next morning, I said yes and Eddie took me to breakfast to celebrate. It was really lovely.’

Pam leaned back in her seat, stretching out long legs in jeans. ‘Well, how exciting. Congratulations, Jen. So, when’s the big day?’

Jen giggled. ‘We’ve been talking about it. Eddie thinks we should get married in six weeks or so. Late March, early April. A spring wedding…’

‘I hope we’re going to be your bridesmaids,’ Tess butted in.

‘Oh, we’ll probably just have a simple do. No fuss. A few friends – you’re all invited – and a quiet meal somewhere – probably the Olive Grove. Eddie wants us to live in my house. He said he can rent out his place and we’ll get a good income from it. He’s written all the figures down on a piece of paper.’

‘He sounds like a sensible man.’ Rose thought for a moment. ‘But there’s no fun in maths – what about the exciting bits like the honeymoon?’

Pam fluffed her short hair, making it stand up. ‘Eddie certainly sounds like he has it all worked out.’

‘And how do you feel, Jen?’ Della leaned forward. ‘Are you all excited?’

‘It’s like being caught up in a whirlwind…’

Tess grimaced. ‘Oh yes, it’s like that at first. All lovey-dovey. Then after a year or so, it’s smelly socks to wash and “the chops are a bit tough, Tess” and golf clubs in every corner of the room.’ She noticed Jen’s anxious expression and laughed, too high. ‘Oh, but that’s just Alan. I’m sure your Eddie will be completely different.’

‘Does he snore?’ Della asked, wrinkling her brow.

Jen pouted. ‘I’ve no idea. We haven’t…’

‘You haven’t sampled the goods yet?’ Tess giggled. ‘Is that a good idea?’

‘Eddie’s very proper… and respectful,’ Jen insisted. ‘We talked about a honeymoon. A long weekend in Lyme Regis. We’ll wait until then.’

‘Oh, I’d want to know he was man enough for the job before I married him.’ Tess winked.

Della’s face was serious. ‘I think you’re all missing the point.’ She met everyone’s eyes in turn, then she smiled at Jen. ‘It’s a wonderful thing. Our friend Jen is getting married. And we should all rejoice for her.’

Rose nodded. ‘Yes, congratulations, Jen.’

‘To years of happiness,’ Pam murmured.

‘I’ll drink to that.’ Tess nodded. ‘And that means a party.’

‘Have you met him, Tess?’

Pam and Tess were walking home together. It was well past five and the light was fading already, the sky streaked with indigo and crimson wheals. The two women lived several streets away and it was their habit to walk home briskly together after aqua aerobics and put the world to rights. But today there could only be one topic.

‘No – but Jen seems very taken with him. I’ve never set eyes on him – have you?’

‘Yes.’ Pam took a breath. ‘I was out with Elvis, jogging on the beach a couple of weeks ago. They were walking along in the other direction, arm in arm. I stopped to say hello and Jen introduced me.’

Tess wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s he like?’

‘Handsome, mid-seventies – a tall man, broad chested, well mannered.’ Pam shrugged. ‘I can see why Jen would like him. He seemed very – protective, you know, the sort of old-fashioned-gentleman type who wraps a woman in cotton wool.’ She thought for a moment; somehow she had sensed all this within moments of meeting Eddie. ‘He didn’t seem to like Elvis much when he leapt up at him. He seemed more concerned with his expensive coat. I had to carry on with my jog pretty quickly after that.’

Tess increased her pace to keep up with Pam. They were going up a steady hill. ‘I’m amazed how fit you are, Pam, at seventy-three. Jogging, yoga, swimming – you never stop. You’re just amazing.’

‘I believe that we either use it or lose it.’ Pam grinned. ‘It’s not all plain sailing. I have aching knees sometimes and a sore heel most mornings. I love to get out though, in the fresh air. Elvis loves it too.’

‘It’s too cold for me.’ Tess shivered. ‘Alan is happy to be out in the winter chill though. He’s moody as anything when he can’t play golf. And as for me, I’m glad to see the back of him, when he’s out on the course. I get a bit of time to myself.’

Pam’s brow was furrowed. ‘Do you really not get on, Tess?’

‘To be honest, we see so little of each other now, it’s hard to tell. We just bumble along really.’

‘Why don’t you leave him if it’s so dull?’

‘Habit, I guess.’ Tess shrugged. ‘I used to love him once.’ She chortled. ‘Passionately. Then we had the kids. Lisa’s forty-seven now. Gemma’s forty-five. Once they came along, I just seemed to be involved in their lives. I suppose Alan and I grew apart. Then he gave up work, retired, took up playing golf in all his spare time and we only saw each other first thing in the morning and late at night.’ The pounding of their feet on the pavement was the only sound for a while, then Tess said, ‘It’s normal now, I guess. And breaking up would be difficult, selling the house, being alone, like poor Rose. I’m not sure which would be worse, being with Alan or being lonely.’

Pam chewed her lip. ‘I’m happy by myself.’

‘Have you never lived with anyone?’

‘There have been – you know – people in my life…’ A small laugh escaped Pam’s lips. ‘Nothing ever worked out though. I always became bored – it was always too claustrophobic. Or people got bored with me, or things went wrong. I wonder sometimes if I ought to be sensible, settle down, just like everyone else…’ She sniffed. ‘But really I’m glad I’m single.’

The mood had become a bit morose. Spaces between conversations seemed to fill with thoughts, regrets. Then Tess said, ‘Well, Jen’s getting married. How about you and I plan something for us all this weekend – a girls’ night out for the five of us? What do you say, Pam?’

‘Perfect.’

They had arrived at Pam’s front door, a little terraced cottage in the middle of the street. Tess had two more streets to cross then she’d be home. They hugged, feeling the warmth of the other’s cheeks, then Pam said, ‘I’ll ring you. We’ll sort out a great night to celebrate Jen’s engagement.’

Tess nodded, pushing her hands deep into her coat pockets, her voice trailing back to Pam as she strolled away. ‘I think we could use one. It might cheer us all up a bit.’

Della was peeling plantains. Sylvester’s favourite. He had such a sweet tooth. He’d be home soon from the snack van on the seafront, which he managed most days at lunchtime and sometimes into the evening. Oil was sizzling in the pan. She was thinking about marriage. She and Sylvester had married in a tiny church in Stepney, forty-nine years ago. She’d worn a lacy gown she’d made herself. Sylvester was all done up in a second-hand suit and his pork-pie hat. He’d looked so handsome. She diced the plantains, throwing the pieces into the oil, listening to the fizz.

Linval had been born less than a year later; Aston one year after that. They’d never had much money as a family. Sylvester had worked hard, two jobs sometimes, but they’d been happy. Throughout their marriage, laughter had kept them entwined. They’d talked together, tucked up in bed on cold nights, about going back to live in Jamaica. Sylvester had left St Ann’s Bay at sixteen. Della had arrived in the UK earlier, as an eight year old, her parents leading her by the hand from the boat onto the bleak windy quay. She’d never known such bitter cold weather and she’d never got used to it.

But their love had kept her warm, Sylvester’s embrace, his cheerful smile, his kisses. She didn’t want for much else. She put a hand to the ache in her lower back. The oil spat and hissed in the pan as she flipped the golden plantains over. She hoped Jen and her Eddie would be as happy as she was.

Rose sat at the piano and stretched out her hands. Bertie Small would be here in ten minutes for his lesson. He was quite good, a chirpy ten year old, but Rose suspected that his mother was keen for him to progress at a faster rate. Apparently, Bertie’s grandfather had been a good pianist. Rose wriggled her fingers. She had neat hands – they could fly across the keys nimbly. She was glad she’d never inherited the arthritis her poor mother had to endure, fingers twisted into brittle claws at sixty-five. Rose was seventy-five and, despite or perhaps because of the constant use, her fingers were as deft as ever. She began to play, Tchaikovsky’s piano concerto No 1. She loved the way the notes filled the room with resonating sadness. It was somehow pure, soothing, as if the rest of the world could understand and share her melancholy.

Rose smiled sadly, regret curving her lips, as she watched her fingers move lightly, the fluttering left hand, the finger with the gold wedding band. She missed Bernard terribly but, more than that, she hated the cold ache that filled her body when she was alone in empty spaces and silent rooms. She hoped Jen would be happy with Eddie, but she, Rose, was feeling more alone than ever, unwanted, dowdy, someone who would spend solitary days playing beautiful music for herself until her last hour. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

Her fingers thrummed on the keys, more and more heavily until she was making the notes reverberate. Suddenly, the melody lifted into the air and the room was filled with energy, with powerful music and a new strength and direction. A thought popped into Rose’s head: things only became stronger if you made more effort. Perhaps her life should be about making more noise and demanding to be heard. Her jaw clenched; she pressed down firmly on the keys and felt the music soar and it lifted her spirits. Perhaps it was time for a change.