by Jane Linfoot
Luce’s shoulders sagged. ‘Nope.’ Although she was checking her inbox every ten minutes now, instead of every five, the thought of exactly what Ollie was doing out there in Thailand still kept her awake late into the night. At times, like at three in the morning, she wished she had a less vivid imagination, and she truly regretted having seen the ping pong scene in Priscilla Queen of the Desert.
Dida gave a grimace. ‘There’s no news on the business loan as yet either, but what about GI Joe’s?’
Luce opened her mouth then realised she wasn’t expected to reply, as Dida ploughed straight on with her tirade. At least she didn’t sound as if she was gunning for Luce, who had wondered if, as the email messenger, she’d be in the firing line.
‘Three floors and an outdoor sales area is insane. It’s all I bloody need on top of everything else.’ Dida flung back her hair, readjusted her layered linen top, and let out an ominously large sigh.
Luce was on the verge of a) pointing out it was four floors not three, and b) grabbing the swear box, but decided, on balance, it was safer not to do either. If this was holiday blues, it was a damn bad case.
‘Thanks for the post card, it just arrived.’ Luce examined the picture of a fresco, and turned it over to check again that she hadn’t misread Dida’s bold pen strokes and happy words. ‘Sounds like a lovely place.’
Dida rolled her eyes. ‘The holiday was great in parts, but my problem is Aidie, and it’s not just the cinema. He’s losing it right across the board.’
Aidie’s extremes were nothing new.
Dida raised one carefully painted eyebrow. ‘The painters are coming in to re-do the kitchen tomorrow.’
‘Wow.’
Dida took in Luce’s astonished stare. ‘Exactly. Totally unexpected. Those hideous bright green cupboards are on their way out and if Aidie’s backing down on Granny Smith-gate, he’s up to his ears in guilt about something. It’s completely unconnected to the cinema. I accidentally came across pictures of some woman’s boobs on his phone whilst we were away.’
Luce gave an eye roll. ‘Aidie’s always been a boob guy. Didn’t he wanted you to have implants for your fortieth?’
Dida gave a sniff and looked down at her already ample chest. ‘That’s the thing, the tits on his phone were tiny, and there were lots of pictures, all of the same ones. And he still isn’t wanting the sex I’m withholding.’
Luce shook her head, as sympathetically as she could. ‘So did you confront him about the pictures?’
Dida shrugged. ‘Confrontation isn’t really an option with Aidie. I accidentally drowned his phone in the bath. But the fact he’s going so far off piste is a bit of a worry.’
From the way Dida was thrashing her hands through her hair, Luce got that “a bit of a worry” was a bit of an understatement.
‘So how did the cycling go?’
Dida considered. ‘Put it this way, I’d go again. As it turned out, with the right company, bike riding can be great.’
Luce couldn’t believe the turnaround. Company though, could only mean one thing, not her husband, but somehow that didn’t fit with Dida. ‘Did you meet somebody?’
Dida smoothed down her trousers, and Dida running her hands over her thighs was a sure sign she cared about something. A lot.
‘It was nothing.’ Dida’s throwaway denial obviously meant it was huge. ‘There was a guy from Newcastle, he was very kind and calm and reasonable, we were thrown together, and it was pretty nice, that was all.’
So maybe this explained the “best hols ever” bit. Luce wasn’t letting her leave it at that. ‘And…’
‘He liked opera.’
That was a biggie. Dida was the only person Luce had ever met who could stand it.
Another biggie coming up. ‘Was he single?’
Dida gave a sniff. ‘Newly divorced, but it really wasn’t like that, there was absolutely no flirting at all. In fact, he was so well behaved, Aidie had him down as gay.’
That answered Luce’s next query, as to how this had gone on under the nose of the most insanely possessive guy in the area. ‘But was there a spark?’
‘It’s hard to say.’ Dida screwed her face up. ‘He was very hunky, and divinely civilised, but he was definitely keeping his distance.’
Luce’s lips twitched into a smile. Good to know that was who the post card was talking about then. ‘Are you still in touch?’
Dida’s chin went up a degree. ‘No, everyone said their goodbyes at the airport. We didn’t exchange email addresses, and it’s probably for the best.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Luce gave her friend a sheepish grin.
Dida laughed. ‘What? Is Ms Shag ’em and Leave ’em going soft in her old age? Is selling all those wedding dresses bringing out your romantic side?’
Luce ignored that jibe. ‘There’s only one decider – are you missing him?’
‘Since you ask, yes, I bloody well am,’ Dida gave a rueful smile. ‘But if you’re going to ask me if I’m going to do anything about it, no, I’m bloody well not.’
Luce decided the time was right to pounce. ‘Swear box, you had two bloodies in one sentence there.’ She waggled the jar under Dida’s nose, mildly aware that beyond the faded chintz of the window display a Range Rover was manoeuvring outside the shop. That could well be Xander on his way in.
‘Fine.’ Dida, nostrils flaring, dived into her bag. ‘I hope your swear box takes foreign currency, euros are all I’ve got.’
As Dida fiddled in her purse, Luce watched as out on the street she saw some tell-tale faded jeans jumping down from the car.
‘I think we’re about to get a visit from Xander from The Pink House. That’s something else you need to get up to speed on – he asked Izzy to go to style his sister’s place in France, but Izzy turned him down.’
‘What?’ Dida was back to her “incensed of Matlock” voice. ‘Izzy can’t say no to an offer like that, especially not now.’ There were rare times when Dida’s red glossy lips looked like they belonged to Cruella De Vil, and this was one of them. ‘When was this?’
Luce decided to ’fess up before she got the full brunt of Dida’s frustration.
‘Last Monday. I know I should have been firmer, but Izzy’s stubborn, and it’s not always practical to fight her head on…’
Xander wandered in, and came up to the counter. ‘I don’t suppose Izzy’s in is she?’
Luce was counting this as her lucky day. If Izzy had been in, she’d most likely have turned down Xander and his offers point blank, whereas if Dida was on the case too, they had a better chance of steam rolling Izzy into being sensible.
‘I’m sorry, she’s out on a delivery, is there anything we can help you with?’ Luce gave a double strength smile. Even if Xander only had eyes for Izzy, it still wouldn’t hurt.
He gave a shrug. ‘Well Izzy seemed very reluctant to come to France to help with Christina’s new barn conversion, but she did mention wanting French stock.’
‘What was that about French stock?’ Dida was at Luce’s elbow now, her breath hot on Luce’s neck.
‘Xander, this is Dida.’ Luce felt she had to do the introductions, given Dida had already joined in. ‘Dida owns the cinema.’ Luce hoped that the hierarchy thing would excuse Dida’s conversation crashing.
‘Nice to meet you, Dida, it’s an amazing place you’ve got here.’ Xander said charmingly. ‘And it’s true, some French stuff would go down really well here, wouldn’t it? If Izzy came to France she could stock up, and by way of an incentive, I’m happy to bring a large load of furniture back to the UK for you.’
Dida gave a surprised gasp. ‘Bloody hell. Sounds like our Izzy’s made a big impression.’
If Dida hadn’t been wearing vintage Dior shoes, Luce would have stepped sideways onto her toe to get her to butt out. As it was, the best she could do was to shoot her a “look”.
‘Wow that would be amazing. It’s so generous of you.’ Luce stepped forward. ‘We’ll certainly do our best to per
suade Izzy. She’s a bit of a home bird.’
Despite caring very little for the bottom line, even Luce had excitement rippling through her at the thought of how much cash and custom a load of exclusive, highly sought after French furniture would bring in. It would all help towards getting their hands on a lease, at the very least.
‘Leave it with us.’ Luce’s smile was more confident than she felt. ‘She’ll be there.’
‘Great.’ Xander’s grin suggested he’d got exactly what he came in for. ‘Give me a ring if there’s anything else you need to know.’
Luce shadowed Xander as far as the pavement, and by the time she came back, Dida was already back behind the counter scrutinising the books.
‘Now there’s a guy who’s used to getting what he wants. And what a stunner too.’ Dida tapped her pen against her teeth, obviously impressed on all sides. ‘As for his offer, bloody hell, a load of French vintage might just save our bacon. Izzy’s certainly come through on keeping that particular enemy close, hasn’t she?’
Luce hated to bring Dida back down to earth, but it had to be done.
‘Don’t forget – we need to persuade Izzy to go.’ Luce frowned. ‘Any suggestions how we’re going to do that?’
Dida propped her pen on her chin. ‘I think our Vintage Cinema Club might need a girls’ night in. How are you fixed for Friday?’
43
Friday Evening, 27th June
DIDA, LUCE & IZZY
At Dida’s House
Big guns and reading between the lines
‘I can’t believe how different the kitchen looks already with one undercoat. Pale grey is definitely the way to go, from the look of the door they’ve already done. But there’s a lot to paint isn’t there?’
Luce was chatting and holding the tray, as Dida loaded her up with dishes, ice cream, a jug of apricot puree, and finally, the delicious cream filled almond meringue, Dida’s favourite fast-yet-fab dinner party sweet.
‘I agonised over the colour.’ Dida gave a grimace and grabbed another bucket of ice and more chilled wine. That understatement barely expressed the sleepless nights she’d had, or how many test doors the painters had done. ‘Hopefully, if we down enough Prosecco we can drown the paint smell.’
Dida would never usually have entertained midway through a paint job, but this was a full blown emergency, and it was only the girls. She’d been right when she’d predicted that Aidie wouldn’t be back until Saturday. Yet again. Head shakes to that one. She’d shoved the painters’ dust sheets into a cupboard, shoed Eric out of the conservatory, and stuck Lolly and Ruby in front of a My Little Pony DVD in the bedroom. The canapés and seared tuna had gone down a storm, and the four empty wine bottles already lined up in the kitchen hopefully meant that Izzy was now going to be open to suggestion.
‘So have you heard from Ollie recently, Iz?’ Dida dropped the question casually, as she unloaded the tray onto the long table in the conservatory.
They were sitting by the doors which opened onto the garden, and the candles Dida had placed along the table were flickering in the evening breeze as it wafted in.
From the way Luce leaned in, she was pleased Dida had asked.
‘I haven’t heard for a while.’ Izzy took a slurp of her wine. ‘Last email, he said he was going to stay offline for a bit. Funny, reading between the lines I’d say he was a bit homesick.’
Dida noticed Luce’s anxious expression relax into a half smile. Dida sent her a private “Go Luce” grin, and risked a wink.
‘It must be hard to strike a balance when you’re travelling.’ Dida needed to grab this opportunity, and steer the conversation round to Izzy’s trip. ‘But holidays are great, a short break makes you feel so much better.’ Not speaking for herself here, obviously, given she’d had the shittest week ever since she’d come back. Worrying about Aidie, up to her ears in painters, and kicking herself for letting Hamish from Newcastle slip out of her grasp, not that he was ever actually in it. Dida caught Luce’s eye, and narrowed her own, giving her the nod to launch Operation Ambush Izzy.
Luce came straight through with the goods. ‘When you go to France it will be like a working holiday, won’t it?’
Good on Luce for saying it like it was already decided, and for prettying it up with a smile that should make it irresistible, but most of all for omitting Xander. They’d decided that Xander was probably more of a sticking point for Izzy, than leaving the twins.
Dida chimed in. ‘And you won’t have to worry about anything back here. We’re all going to help whilst you’re away. I can call in every morning, and sort the boys out, and do their washing, and make sure they don’t trash the place.’
‘I’d never inflict that one on you Dida.’ Izzy gave a shudder.
Dida flinched and kicked herself for putting her foot in it. Given they were trying to sell this to Izzy, a trashed house was the last image they needed to plant in Izzy’s mind, no matter how likely it was in reality. And given what Dida knew of Parker and Barney, Izzy’s twin brothers, it was most likely a dead cert.
‘Well, I’ll promise to keep them supplied with more cakes and lasagnes than they can possibly eat too, and I’ve already got more than enough volunteers to cover your shifts, and everyone has agreed to put money in for the load.’
As Dida waited to gauge Izzy’s reaction, she began slicing the almond meringue, and as she slid the loaded dishes across the table, she received a series of ecstatic groans in return.
‘Here, have some apricot coulis.’
Dida pushed the jug to Izzy first, then watched as she drizzled the orange liquid onto her sweet pavlova. Dida couldn’t work out if Izzy’s impassive expression was because she was reluctant, or drunk, but she decided it was time to bring out the big guns anyway.
‘You know this could be make or break for all of us. A haul like this could make the difference between buying a lease and losing it. We wouldn’t be asking, but all our livelihoods are on the line here, yours too, and Ollie’s when he comes back.’ Dida’s words shot across the table with such force, she almost blew out a candle.
Izzy gave a heavy sigh, and it was a bad sign that she’d put down her spoon without taking a mouthful.
‘I know I have to go, it’s just…’ She sounded resigned rather than drunk.
Dida hadn’t anticipated Izzy giving in so easily.
‘Just what babe?’ Luce was on the case, but treading gently. ‘Is it Xander?’
Izzy’s flush, which began as two bright patches on her cheeks, and gradually worked its way as far down as the dippy bit of her low cut vest, was enough for them all to know the answer to that.
‘What is it? You like him, you’re cross you let him get away, or you don’t want to spend time with him because you like him too much, or you don’t like him, and he’s too hot to handle…?’ Luce’s guesses came out in a rush.
Sometimes less was more. Luce’s list somehow gave Izzy the time to regroup, and now she wasn’t going to give anything away.
‘No, it’s fine, I’m a big girl. I’d rather Xander wasn’t going to be there, but if he is, I’ll deal with it. At least he can do the driving.’ Izzy gave a shrug, and drew in a breath. She suddenly seemed to be sitting a whole lot taller. ‘Don’t worry, I know how desperately we need this opportunity, and I’ll do whatever I have to, to make sure we get it. But first I’m going to get stuck into this sweet.’
Dida glancing around the table, and saw spoons were poised tantalisingly close to meringue.
‘Great, let’s drink to Izzy, to France, and a long hot profitable summer.’ She grabbed the nearest bottle and filled their glasses to the rims. ‘Bottoms up for the Vintage Cinema Club.’ Before Izzy had time to change her mind.
44
Saturday Evening, 28th June
IZZY & LUCE
In Corks Bar
Pickled Bears and a passion fruit allergy
‘So you remember that snog you had in the bathroom at Xander’s house?’ Luce, legs swinging fr
om the bar stool, poked at her Cuba Confidential cocktail with the little accompanying umbrella, and swirled the contents of the jam jar glass with her straw.
Izzy’s own jam jar came to a halt in mid-air, half way to her mouth. Spilling the beans to Luce about the snog that afternoon had been a mistake, especially given the hugely bigger blunders with Xander that had come afterwards. How she’d been able to keep the lid on the whole double shag fest, Izzy would never know, although with the girls, if you could keep something under wraps for twenty four hours, there was often something else happening that took the heat off you.
As it was, Happy Hour at Corks on a Saturday had been a left field suggestion from Luce, who, by rights, would normally have been having tea with Ruby. Given that Ruby was otherwise engaged with Lolly, Izzy suspected there might be more people involved here than just Luce. Sold to Izzy as a hangover cure after the heavy intake of Prosecco at Dida’s the evening before, it was beginning to look a lot more like a continuation of Luce’s interrogation about Xander and the French trip, which Izzy had only avoided by the skin of her teeth last night.
As for snogging in the en suite? ‘Ancient history.’ Izzy slurped up a gulp of her Pass The Basil, and kicked herself for choosing that, instead of the Pickled Bear cocktail she’d been going to have. She hoped that would put an end to the Xander talk. As much as she’d enjoyed the interlude it had all come to a firm and consensual end last Monday afternoon.
‘History so ancient, you went purple at the merest mention of Xander last night then?’ Luce pursed her lips, and left the question hanging.
‘Probably an alcoholic flush.’ Izzy replied quickly, heat seeping from her chest up to her cheeks, she racked her brain for a total change of subject, and cursed when it went blank.
‘Same as the flush you’ve got now you mean?’ Luce wasn’t giving up.
‘No, that’s just a passion fruit allergy. It happens sometimes.’ Izzy was clutching at straws here. ‘I knew I should have had a Margarita instead of this.’ She nodded at her cocktail.