by Maeve Haran
At that moment he heard her calling him.
‘What’s it like in the water?’
‘Great. Why don’t you join me?’
Sal bent over with laughter. ‘You must be joking. Anyway, hot news!’
‘Tell me.’ He pretended to splash her and she pretended to squeal.
‘Mrs Lal is doing the fortune telling this afternoon at four in the lounge.’
‘I can’t wait.’
Sal smiled tenderly. ‘Don’t be such an old cynic.’
‘Old is the operative word. When you get to my age anything a fortune teller predicts can only be bad news.’
‘What, like meeting the love of your life at over seventy?’ Sal pirouetted girlishly by the side of the pool.
Lou heaved himself out and hugged her, drenching her from head to foot.
‘I’ve already met her. A fortune teller would only tell me she was going to leave me.’
‘Hey, what happened to all that American optimism?’
‘Who says I’m an optimist? You just called me a cynic.’ He towelled himself enthusiastically.
‘You’ve been married three times. I call that optimism!’
He pulled Sal into his arms.
‘Get a room, children!’ a voice called.
They turned to find Rose on her morning stroll to the local shop. ‘They never have anything I want but I enjoy the journey.’
‘Now if that isn’t a metaphor for life, I don’t know what is,’ pronounced Lou.
‘There, you are a cynic,’ Sal tutted.
‘I’m a professional cynic but my heart’s not in it, to paraphrase your great British rock band Blur.’
‘Oooh, get you, trying to get down with the kids. I suppose you have enough of them . . .’
Rose continued her walk, watching them fondly. It was such a special thing when two people you liked so much got together. And of course she could take the credit for introducing them.
Rose smiled with deep satisfaction. Moving here was working out quite nicely.
‘Rose, you are coming this afternoon?’ Sal called to her.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Mrs Lal in the lounge with a crystal ball.’
Rose laughed. ‘I’ll have to remember my dagger,’ she replied.
Lou watched her, his face creasing a little with concern. ‘I knew she didn’t exactly go for Mrs Lal, but a dagger?’
‘You really are an American, aren’t you? It’s a reference to Cluedo!’
‘What on God’s earth is Cluedo?’
‘A British board game. We used to have them before smartphones and iPads.’
‘Right.’ Lou nodded. ‘A bit before my time . . .’ he said as Sal chased him back into their cottage.
‘Oh dear.’ Sal made a face once the door was closed. ‘Rose has really gone off Mrs Lal.’
‘Not surprising. Didn’t you see the way she moved in on Murdo at the party? He didn’t have a chance. The lady is a vamp.’
‘I thought he was supposed to be in love with Rose, and that’s why he sold us the manor. Frailty thy name is Man.’ She shook her head at the general laxity of the male gender.
‘Very good. I see you know your Hamlet,’ Lou congratulated.
‘Well, at least he isn’t in love with his mother,’ Sal replied, straight-faced.
Lou had once, many years ago, encountered the Dowager Lady Binns and could recall three chins and a gimlet eye.
‘Yes, well, let’s be grateful for small mercies. If she moved in here, I’d be on the next plane to JFK.’
Nineteen
The setting sun was slanting in through the windows of the lounge, giving it an appropriately other-worldly glow. Mrs Lal had allowed a fire in the inglenook and a small lamp next to her but no other light.
‘Madame Arcati to the life,’ whispered Claudia to Don as they settled themselves into the row of armchairs.
‘I was thinking more Agatha Christie,’ Don replied. ‘Murder at the Vicarage maybe.’
They were all there apart from Bella, since Noah was unlikely to keep quiet for the duration, and Olivia and Len. Olivia due to her snooty attitude to Mrs Lal and Len because he was more interested in watching the cricket.
‘Who wants to be first?’ Mrs Lal, in a smart suit that Sal suspected came from Yves St Laurent, looked round at them all as if she expected a stampede.
Instead there was a long pause, eventually broken by Rose.
She stepped forward and sat in the chair next to Mrs Lal.
‘Your hand, please,’ she requested.
Rose held it out. ‘For God’s sake don’t predict a long life. A nice aneurism while I’m enjoying a large G&T would be perfect.’
‘But Rose,’ Mrs Lal replied sweetly, ‘you have already lived a long life.’ She studied the hand. ‘As a matter of fact, you have many more years to come.’
‘Oh bugger,’ Rose replied laconically. ‘Will I still have my marbles?’
‘Your lifeline does not reveal that, I’m afraid.’
‘Okay.’ Rose got stiffly to her feet. ‘Next cab off the rank.’
Lou jumped eagerly out of his armchair and replaced Rose next to Mrs Lal. She took his hand.
‘Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?’ he quipped, looking round at the assembled group. ‘No, don’t spoil it for me. I don’t mind long life. In fact, I’m with Woody Allen on this one; “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve immortality through not dying.”’
Mrs Lal looked at him sternly, her charity shop earrings flashing in the fire light. ‘You will live a long life. You will have even more grandchildren. There will be some family strife.’
‘Of course there will be family strife. Have you met my family?’
‘They are not sure about your decision to settle here.’
Lou looked at her narrowly. ‘Of course they’re not. They’re missing my sparkling personality. Not to mention my sparkling money. They are wondering whether if I die, they can challenge the will on the grounds I have gone gaga and moved into a mansion with a bunch of strangers.’
‘Lou!’ Sal shook her head. ‘I’m sure your family love you!’
‘They do. Especially my ex-wives. My youngest daughter’s the best of them and she only lives ten miles away.’
‘Sally,’ invited Mrs Lal. ‘Would you like to be next?’
For a moment Sal looked reluctant, then told herself not to be a spoilsport. It was a load of tosh anyway.
‘Fine. Come on, Maynard,’ she hissed at Lou, ‘move your bloomin’ arse.’
‘What a fine turn of phrase you British have.’ Lou started to get up.
‘Ignoramus,’ she murmured to him tenderly. ‘It’s from My Fair Lady. Eliza shouts it to her horse at Ascot.’
‘Okay, if it’s only a horse . . .’ Lou replied.
Sal held out her palm for inspection. Mrs Lal stared intently at her lifeline for just a shade too long.
‘Right,’ Sal announced decisively, tearing her hand from Mrs Lal’s grip, ‘let’s skip the long-life bit, shall we? How about will I be happy?’
‘Yes,’ Mrs Lal smiled and nodded. ‘You will be very happy.’
‘Fine.’ Sal was already on her feet. ‘I’ll settle for that. Come on, Claudia, your turn.’
But before she could sit down Hiro appeared holding out his metallic hand to Mrs Lal.
‘I cannot tell the fortune of a machine,’ she protested dismissively.
‘Just as well Hiro isn’t a machine then,’ insisted Lou swiftly, winking at the little manikin. ‘He’s Len’s soulmate.’
Mrs Lal shrugged as if they were all completely mad.
Her face changed as she contemplated his claw-like digits and she looked at him in surprise. ‘Hiro, you are going to be a hero!’
An expression of what looked very like delight appeared on his artificially created features and he scooted back to join Len in his shed.
Claudia sat down. ‘I won’t ask,’ she announced
to Mrs Lal. ‘You tell me the story.’
‘You will go through a lot of worry . . .’
‘That’s through worrying how everyone’s going to get on!’
‘But eventually you will stop worrying and feel nothing but calm.’
‘Probably because I’ll be dead!’ She heaved Don out of his chair and he lumbered reluctantly forward.
‘You feel overwhelmed by women,’ announced Mrs Lal.
‘Too right,’ agreed Don.
‘But you will learn to stand tall and be a man.’
‘Just like Johnny Cash!’ Lou pointed out from the sidelines.
Ella was the last one remaining. She suspected after the other night’s performance Mrs Lal would foresee some nonsense about romance with a man in a white tuxedo, but she was wrong. ‘You are going to have a very difficult decision ahead that you fear may cost you a dear friendship.’
‘Any more details?’
‘I am sorry, no. But be on the lookout.’
Ella shrugged. All her friends were here anyway. Apart from Laura.
There was a pause and they were about to decide the show was over when a voice from the back boomed, ‘May I join in too?’
They turned to find Murdo Binns had appeared in the room without anyone noticing.
Don happily surrendered his seat, feeling he’d got off lightly, if embarrassingly, and Murdo folded his long body into the chair.
Mrs Lal took his slender patrician hand in hers and stared intently into his eyes.
‘Trussst in me . . .’ whispered Sal naughtily to Lou in her best Kaa voice.
‘Okay, what’s ahead for me?’ Murdo enquired.
‘You will marry again,’ she asserted. ‘There will be another Lady Binns.’
‘And she will be tall, glamourously seductive and quite possibly Indian,’ murmured Rose.
‘Your children will not be happy at you marrying again at your age.’
‘My children are never happy. Fortunately they are all well provided for. Will there be more baby Binns?’
‘That is not for you to see,’ Mrs Lal replied sharply.
‘She doesn’t want a wife young enough to give him babies!’ Rose whispered, starting to laugh.
Don got to his feet, sensing that this was getting a lot too personal. ‘Overwhelmed as I am by women, I thought I would take the opportunity to say thank you to Mrs Lal for her very entertaining session this afternoon.’ He started to clap and the others immediately followed.
Mrs Lal got huffily to her feet. ‘My dear man, the truth is not entertaining. Revealing possibly, occasionally frightening but rarely entertaining. Remember that!’
Despite her dire warning everyone tried to repress their smiles and giggles. Except for Sal, who felt that on the whole the future was best left unexplored.
‘We’ve only had one student declare any interest!’ Bella was shocked at the youth of today. The free rent had been a large part of why she’d come to help at Igden Manor herself and she was surprised the offer hadn’t led to a stampede.
‘They’re probably all put off by the thought of living with all us oldies,’ Claudia grinned. ‘Like moving in with your granny.’
The young man, when he finally turned up, was called Spike. Bella didn’t need to ask him why. He had one of those Mohican cuts popularised by Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols which was so retro it seemed quaint to Bella. But he had nice eyes and he was studying social work and actually seemed quite interested in the whole concept of their new-age old-age community.
‘I might even make it my thesis,’ he offered generously.
‘You’d better see round first.’
Since he was a serious student Bella pointed out all the aids to ageing that they had installed discreetly in the manor and cottages.
‘Loos that don’t need paper. Wow, that must feel weird,’ Spike commented.
There was also voice technology that could announce the time and also remind you when to do things. Handles everywhere. Walk-in showers.
‘We only have one communal bathroom. Unfortunately baths get very difficult to climb in and out of.’
‘Do you have any of those mobile scooter things? I love those.’
Hiro took an instant dislike to Spike, especially when he said, very loudly, ‘A robot. Cool. I got one of those from Amazon.’
‘It will be nothing like me,’ Hiro announced proudly to Bella.
‘I’m sure it won’t,’ Bella reassured.
Spike then went off saying he would think about the idea of moving in.
‘What was he like?’ Claudia enquired.
‘He might want to do a thesis on us! He’s gone to think about it.’
‘Generous of him!’
Actually, Claudia didn’t mind too much. It was Lou who thought they ought to have more young faces about the place. All in all Claudia thought things were going pretty well.
Little did she know.
‘Have you noticed how that woman keeps colonizing the shared spaces?’ Rose demanded in tones of controlled fury as Claudia and Bella were passing through the lounge to check on the menus for the week. ‘Piles of DVDs all over the lounge. Old biscuits under the sofa! Doesn’t she realize we’re out in the country and will get invaded by mice?’ Claudia could see the rivalry between the two women was escalating faster than North Korea and the USA. ‘And the other day I saw her knocking back a vodka and tonic without putting anything in the honesty box.’
‘Maybe she just forgot,’ suggested Bella diplomatically.
‘Twice?’
‘Right. Well, perhaps she needs a gentle reminder,’ she said, hoping to God that Rose didn’t decide to give her one.
At that very moment Mrs Lal strode into the lounge, looking so angry the goddess Kali would have shuddered and taken cover. ‘Mrs Warren, a word if you please. You will not believe this. Your dog—’
‘Vito? He’s a dear little thing. Gentle as a lamb.’
‘He has been into my kitchen and left a pile of excrement in the middle of my floor!’
‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry, that’s not like Vito at all.’
‘My dear Mrs Lal,’ replied naughty Rose McGill, ‘don’t tell everyone. They may all want some.’
The look she gave Rose could have frozen the Pacific Ocean. ‘And as for your friend Mrs Thompson . . .’ As Mrs Lal paused dramatically, Claudia wondered what on earth Ella could have got up to. ‘She has appropriated a section of the communal garden. And if that were not bad enough, she bared her bosoms in it!’
‘What?’ Bella tried to stifle a giggle. ‘Maybe she’s become a pagan. It could be the solstice or something.’
‘Bare bosoms and dog poo, you have been having a morning!’ Rose, catching Bella’s eye, was struggling not to collapse in giggles.
‘Really, Miss McGill’ – Mrs Lal emphasized the Miss – ‘at your age I would have thought you might have behaved better. No doubt it is because I am Indian. May I remind you that the British no longer rule India. In fact, Britain is a sad small offshore island while India is one of the fastest-growing economies in the world.’
The situation might have resolved itself if Murdo Binns had not walked in and, spotting Mrs Lal in full flood, taken her hand and apologized fulsomely for whatever had disturbed her, which she willingly reiterated to him. ‘My dear lady, let me come and deal with the emergency. No doubt in India you have an entire caste devoted to such things. How appropriate that in this country a peer of the realm should step into the breach!’
‘Thank you, my lord, you are good manners personified,’ Mrs Lal simpered.
Rose watched their departure, smiling despite her intense annoyance. ‘Say what you will, he can be a very annoying man, but Murdo Binns certainly has class.’
‘And I didn’t even give him a poo bag!’ Claudia bewailed. ‘I really don’t know what’s come over Vito.’
‘I think he’s shown quite a lot of discrimination.’
‘Now, Rose, behave!’
‘Believ
e me, it’s nothing to do with the woman being Indian and everything to do with her being bloody irritating!’
Laura woke up feeling like she used to when she was a child on her birthday, and looked round for her phone. She knew there would be a wake-up message from Gavin wishing her good morning.
Ever since they’d made contact they’d started to exchange emails and messages about different aspects of their lives, sometimes with silly emojis or pictures of things that had made them laugh: what they were doing, their favourite foods, movies they’d enjoyed, little details of everyday life. Often it had been about being grandparents and how much easier it was than being parents.
It might only be a short time since they’d connected but Laura felt like she’d known him for years. She yearned to share her excitement with Bella or her friends but instinctively felt it better to keep things to themselves for now.
Sure enough, next to her the phone pinged. It was especially exciting to make contact first thing in the morning when she was still in bed even if, due to the time difference, he was already up.
Good morning. Hope you slept well. The sun is shining here in Beirut. Hope you can join me soon. Gavin
Laura read it again, almost breathless.
And then she replied: Good morning to you. It’s raining in London. Sun in Beirut sounds wonderful. Laura
And then a message came instantly back: Laura, I think you could be the woman who could light up my life. Gavin
Should she be suspicious that Gavin was already talking to her so passionately? She knew her friends would say so, but she couldn’t help herself feeling excited. And besides she did feel she knew him.
Very quietly she began to hum and realized the tune was ‘Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’’.
And now, thanks to the messages from Gavin, it would be.
‘Any problem, Leonard?’
Len had collapsed into his favourite armchair in front of the cricket looking pale and sweaty.
‘No, no. Just a little breathless. Like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest.’
Hiro was instantly in front of him. ‘Shall I call Olivia?’
‘Please, no. She’ll only make a fuss. You know women.’ He came up with a small smile. ‘Well, no, I don’t suppose you do.’
Hiro was silent for a moment. ‘I have consulted my computer. Do you have a pain in your upper arm, fast heartbeat or exhaustion?’