by Pat Rosier
‘I can’t expect her to just move in here,’ she said to Mrs Mudgely, whose head had appeared around the door. She patted her knee and the cat jumped up. ‘It might mean getting a new house together, I’d better start thinking about that.’ She knew she didn’t want to think about that. Mrs Mudgely kneaded in her lap. ‘And even if she does want to live here, it’ll mean changing things.’ She stroked the chair arm, then the cat, expecting a sinking feeling that didn’t arrive.
At five o’clock she rang Martia and had to wait for her to ring back when she had finished a planning session with Gloria about what stock they would need for the summer trade. When she finally had an attentive Martia on the phone and was making a joke of her encounter with the security guard her friend interrupted.
‘What exactly were you doing hovering about the car parks at Joy’s flats, Poppy?’ Martia asked.
‘Trying to find out her flat number so I could… Oh, I don’t know, Martia…’ and at last she was telling her friend about being told ‘no’ in her kitchen when she wanted to kiss Joy, and everything that had happened since. Martia said very little, other than to encourage her to continue. When she had told it all Poppy waited for a response. After a few second’s silence, Martia said,
‘Well, that’s a turn-up. I didn’t pick it, not in the least.’
‘Me neither. You don’t sound very pleased.’
‘Oh. No. Sorry. I think I’m just getting used to a little hiccup in my back-up plan, you know, us as best friends growing old together, if up here doesn’t work out. Sorry, that’s selfish. Actually,’ and Martia’s voiced changed, ‘I am used to it, and it’s terrific. You and Joy, of course, I predict you’ll do splendidly together.’
‘Oh, Martia, for a minute there I thought you were going to disapprove. Of course you could always come and stay, you know that.’
‘Yes, I know that…’
‘… and it doesn’t stop us being best friends…’
‘Of course not. And, hey, what now?’
‘She doesn’t want us to live together for a bit.’ By the time she had explained Joy’s reasons, and they had talked about Katrina’s Horace, Poppy was ravenous. ‘No, it’s not a secret,’ she said as they were saying their goodbyes, ‘but I do feel a bit shy about it, especially so soon after Jane…’
‘… well, it’s not that I see anyone to gossip with up here. And I am truly really, really happy for you both. I wish I could give you a hug.’
‘Me too. And you’ll be down in a couple of weeks – you will stay with me, won’t you?’
‘I’m counting on it – as long as I won’t be intruding…’
‘Dear Martia, you could never intrude…’
Finally she was in the kitchen, cheese and tomatoes grilling on toast while she put out food for an insistent Mrs Mudgely, who had finished eating by the time Poppy’s food was done. They sat side by side on the living room sofa, heater on full, the cat eating tiny pieces of bread and cheese off the edge of the tray on Poppy’s lap.
‘You’re not infallible, you know,’ Poppy told her, ‘you with your Jane-can-do-no-wrong and Joy-who’s-she?’ There was no response except the licking of a paw. ‘Maybe I don’t need your advice any more,’ she went on, then added hastily, ‘but I’ll always treasure your company.’ They both started at the sound of the doorbell.
Joy was on the doorstep, overnight bag in one hand, brandishing a toothbrush in the other.