Scuba Dancing

by Nicola Slade

  ‘Atta girl’, the angel encouraged her. ‘Now, even more pressing, is the problem of the body in the dining room – sounds like a Miss Marple mystery, doesn’t it? Got any ideas about that one?’

  Ursula was reluctant to tackle yet another crisis decision so soon after the first but as the angel bullied her gently she made some more tea and thought hard. ‘I know!’ she exclaimed in triumph. ‘How would it be if I could get her into the wheelchair and put her in the air-raid shelter? I could cover it over again and nobody would ever find her.’

  Egged on by the angel Ursula kitted herself out in boots, jacket and gloves and managed to manoeuvre the heavy body into the electric wheelchair. So far so good.

  Out of doors she almost quailed at the enormity of the task in front of her. Luckily the hole she had nearly fallen into was almost large enough so she bashed away with the coal hammer at the rotten wood. There was low cloud cover and the threat of rain so she had to retreat indoors to find first a torch and some batteries and then take care not to flash it about in case she could be seen from the house next door.

  The angel flitted around the garden looking ornamental but offering no practical help as she struggled down the crazy-paved path, shooting terrified glances around, but there was no sign of movement at the next door windows. When she finally reached the splintered opening she was exhausted, her heart banging in her skinny old chest, lungs almost defeated.

  ‘Sit down for five minutes,’ urged the angel. ‘Here, sit on the wheelbarrow, you don’t want them to find two corpses at the bottom of the garden! And you don’t want to miss out on that holiday of a lifetime, do you?’

  Thus encouraged Ursula took a breather and set about Henrietta’s impromptu burial with renewed energy. She had a momentary pang when she tilted the wheelchair and the body tumbled out in an ungainly tangle of arms and legs, landing just inside the doorway of the shelter with a thud. It took an enormous effort for Ursula to peer down into the gloom, just being there was reminder enough of her decades old terror, but eventually she dragged a piece of an old wooden wardrobe door across the hole.

  That’ll have to do for now, she gasped to herself, leaning heavily on the wheelchair and wishing she could sit in it herself and be pushed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to shove the door into a better position and cover it with earth. What shall I plant over it, she wondered, as she trudged wearily back to the house. Something nice and hardy, she decided, perhaps that small-leaved periwinkle would be ideal, close-matted, evergreen ground cover, just the thing.

  ‘Oh dear.’ A thought struck her as she clambered into bed. ‘I should have said a few words over Henrietta, a prayer, maybe.’

  ‘Such as?’ The angel, perched on the end of the bed, laughed cynically at her. ‘Thank you, God, for letting the old bitch die? Don’t be daft, Ursula, you know she’s gone straight to Hell, save your prayers for yourself and this holiday scheme of yours. You’ll need all the help you can get, divine or otherwise, if you’re to rustle up all those thousands of pounds and not get had up for fraud.’

  ****

  Although it seemed like the middle of the night to Ursula Buchanan as she crept about her gruesome business it was really only just after eleven. When she struggled into her lonely, spinster bed, Charlie and Finn were up to something much more sociable in Charlie’s king-size divan.

  ‘You’re lovely, lovely,’ he murmured, nuzzling contentedly into her ear while he stroked her breasts in a tantalising figure-of-eight. ‘I knew we’d be magic together.’

  Finn sighed and stretched luxuriously. Magic was the word, she thought complacently, doing some interesting stroking on her own account. They’d managed to enjoy their dinner at the Elizabethan manor a few miles down the main road, but the crackling tension between them made conversation very tricky and it was with a sigh of relief that Finn nodded when Charlie looked at her.

  ‘Had enough? Let’s go home now.’

  She’d been to Charlie’s house several times, enough to feel relaxed there, though she had wondered, but not ventured to ask, who had chosen to mix Seventies flock wallpaper in greens and browns with cream matching leather sofas. Surely not Charlie, he had no interest in interior design; she’d asked him that when they were discussing her own flat. But his house showed distinct signs of another hand, someone who was interested in style, in furniture if not in decorating, and, given that Charlie, in spite of his vile temper, was exceedingly attractive, it was odds on that that somebody had to be a woman, presumably the wife who had disappeared. But the woman who had chosen the cream leather would never have sanctioned the dreary brown and pink flowered curtains that drooped at the window; perhaps she had chosen the furniture but disappeared so mysteriously before tackling the decorating.

  The kitchen, too, where Charlie brewed coffee when they reached home, that had also been than thrown together, with its odd assortment of state-of-the-art stainless steel equipment everywhere alongside the beige Formica units and brown flowered wall tiles. If she hadn’t been so worked up in anticipation she might have wondered about the bedroom, but when Charlie put down his coffee mug and took her in his arms she was in no state to think coherently at all. And when they arrived in the bedroom she couldn’t have cared less if half a dozen of his ex-wives and girlfriends had sat around cheering them on, she was so drowned in desire.

  ‘I’m on the pill,’ she said shyly in answer to his breathless query and then they were on the bed and Charlie was kissing her all over and it was wonderful, more than she’d ever dreamed.

  ****

  Across the village green Julia and Jamie were also entwined in each other’s arms, both happily exhausted and in Jamie’s case, looking insufferably smug.

  ‘Not sure I need a pill,’ he’d exclaimed cheerfully when she opened the door to him. ‘Not when you look so delicious.’

  ‘You old smoothie,’ she smiled at him. ‘I’ll leave the decision to you, Jamie, but let’s have a drink for now, dinner’s all ready whenever we are.’

  Their comfortable friendship came into its own now, when the stakes were raised, so that although there was a heightening of tension, they were able to tuck in quite happily to their dinner. As Julia placed a crisp and gooey pavlova, dripping with blackberries and cream, in front of him, Jamie delved in his inside pocket.

  ‘I think we’ll play safe,’ he grinned at her and popped the Viagra tablet into his mouth. ‘You have to take it about half an hour before you “engage in sexual activity” it says on the packet. This is the lowest dose and I dropped in at the surgery yesterday and got the practice nurse to check out my blood pressure and heart-rate, just in case, particularly after that dizzy spell I had after flu. Passed with flying colours.’

  They took their drinks to the fireside and sat in companionable silence on the big chesterfield.

  ‘What about alcohol?’ Julia sat up in alarm. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t mix it with the pill.’

  ‘Calm down, sweetie, I checked. A couple of glasses of Jacob’s Creek isn’t going to do me any harm, quite the reverse, I would have said. I know all the warning signs, what they call the “contra-indications” and believe me, I haven’t got any. On the other hand, though. …’

  He put his glass down on the side table, his hand slightly unsteady and turned to meet her wide-eyed gaze.

  ‘You really are the most delightful creature,’ he said simply as he put his arms round her and drew her close. ‘Are you quite sure you want this? You could have any man you wanted, you know. Do you really want a seventy-year-old with an ancestor complex?’

  ‘Oh, Jamie,’ she sighed as they kissed. ‘You really do talk a load of nonsense.’ After another warm, loving and increasingly passionate kiss, she looked at him almost shyly. ‘Do I take it that the Viagra, or at least, something, is working?’ When he nodded with a grin of pure, red-blooded, masculine pride, she rose to her feet and held out her hand. ‘In that case, darling Jamie, I think we’d be better off in my bed, don’t you?’

  ****
<
br />   A little after midnight Finn woke up. For a moment she was disorientated but as comprehension dawned she lay there smiling in the darkness, listening to the unromantic sound of Charlie’s gentle snoring. Charlie, oh, Charlie, she sighed inwardly. Their first coupling had been almost unbearably exciting, even savage, reflecting the pent-up passion and wrangling of the last few weeks and Finn had an idea that it had been quite a long time since Charlie had slept with anyone.

  The second time they made love – well, that was quite, quite different.

  As she came down to earth afterwards she felt tears on her cheeks and when she could speak her voice was shaky.

  ‘Oh that was … oh, I don’t know, all the clichés, I think.’

  ‘What? Trumpets playing, shooting stars?’

  His voice was warmly amused and she nestled closer. How satisfying that he didn’t need to ask what she meant.

  ‘Uh-huh, whole orchestra, entire galaxy, the full works. How about you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said simply. ‘Me too.’

  I’ve never felt like this, she thought, then laughed ruefully at herself. But I’ve said that every time, haven’t I? But it is different, she insisted earnestly. There are layers and layers in this relationship that I’ve never experienced before. There’s sex and friendship and liking and being in the same situation with my sister and his father and both of us lonely and … and hurt. I don’t know what Charlie’s problem is but I do know that he’s been really badly hurt by some woman and all I want to do is claw her eyes out. The thing with Luc, that was nothing, nor with the others – a world away from this.

  She slid carefully out from under Charlie’s possessive arm and stumbled to the bathroom. After she sluiced water over her face she peered at her reflection in the mirror. A face she barely recognised stared back at her, a face transfigured, shining with happiness.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she drew back in alarm. ‘Oh my God, I think I’ve gone and fallen in love with him!’

  Chapter 9

  Finn and Charlie stayed in bed all morning, making occasional forays downstairs to make tea and coffee and once, for bacon sandwiches, which they ate between bouts of ecstatic and energetic sex.

  Julia and Jamie, on the other hand, decided that eight o’clock was as late as they could manage a lie-in.

  ‘It’s no use,’ Jamie groaned as he clambered out of bed. ‘I can’t stay too long in bed these days, I start to seize up. Shall I go and start breakfast?’

  Julia grinned lazily at his hopeful expression.

  ‘Breakfast? What breakfast? You just had it!’

  ‘And without benefit of chemical assistance, too,’ he boasted. ‘Oh, all right, I’ll go and put the kettle on.’

  It had been quite a night, Julia considered as she had a quick bath and got dressed. The little blue pill had obviously kick-started Jamie’s confidence and he had proceeded to demonstrate more than once that he could do very well without it.

  Over toast and tea they purred with satisfaction at each other.

  ‘You really are the most adorable creature,’ he told her. ‘Can we make this a regular date? I haven’t had so much fun in years.’

  At half past eleven they sauntered into the antiques fair at the Town Hall in Ramalley to check on progress and see if they were needed. Julia had another, secret, agenda, but as soon as she caught sight of Hugh Taylor’s face she sighed. No sign of the radiantly smug self-satisfaction that characterised Jamie Stuart this morning. Rosemary was absent, too, her place taken by Delia Muncaster who was directing proceedings with her usual high hand.

  ‘Certainly, my dear man.’ They heard her before they saw her. ‘This plate is, indeed, Royal Worcester and not a fake. Why is it so cheap? Because it was donated by a kind benefactor. However, if you’d prefer you may certainly pay me double the price. No? Very well, this lady will wrap it for you. Here you are, Sue. I’ll take the money, if you please.’

  Sue Merrill looked up at Julia’s approach but carried on obediently with wrapping a large plate adorned with highland cattle. She grinned as Julia raised an eyebrow towards their self-elected leader.

  ‘She should have been a market trader. I’ve never seen anyone get so much blood from a stone.’

  ‘Ah, Julia, and Jamie too; my, my, what a pussy-cat grin. Drop of the hard stuff work out all right?’

  Sue looked puzzled but Jamie just grinned and Julia groaned.

  ‘You shameless old besom,’ she scolded. ‘If you must make lewd comments at least make sure they’re at least funny.’ She looked round the room. ‘Rosemary not here?’

  Hugh’s expression became even more po-faced as he turned towards them after selling a Caithness vase for ten pounds.

  ‘Her mother is unwell,’ he said in a repressed tone. ‘A fainting spell I think it was. Rosemary had to call the doctor yesterday evening.’

  ‘She’s not too bad today,’ thrust in Delia. ‘But Rosemary’s going to have to make a decision soon rather than later, I’d say. Margot is definitely getting worse, markedly so in the last couple of weeks. I’d say it’s only the day centre that keeps Rosemary sane. It won’t be easy, poor girl.’

  Yes, poor Rosemary. Julia pursed her lips but there was nothing to say. Hugh hung around glowering until Charlie and Finn joined them on the stall when he mooched off to offer his services to Delia who was wrapping some china. Julia looked after him then caught Finn’s eye.

  ‘You had a lucky escape there, Ju,’ her sister murmured. ‘Hugh’s not best pleased is he? Not a lot of support to Rosemary, just when she really needs him.’

  Julia nodded sadly.

  ‘Be fair, though,’ she added, ‘he hasn’t known Rosemary long and you have to admit that Margot is a lot to swallow. Besides, it’s not that long since he nursed his wife in her final illness, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he felt a bit reluctant to get involved. Old wounds, you know. I’ll check up on Rosemary after the fair.’ She turned to look at Charlie who was enthusiastically taking up his selling career where he’d left off after the car boot sale. ‘He looks pleased with himself?’

  Finn nodded with a suddenly shy grin then turned to Charlie who was insisting she admire him.

  ‘Did you see that?’ he crowed. ‘I sold a crystal vase for twenty-eight pounds. I could be good at this.’

  Finn was prowling around the other stalls looking for bargains when, just before lunch, Charlie’s mobile rang. Seeing his sudden frown she sauntered back to the gang’s stall and eavesdropped.

  ‘No problem,’ he lied, grimacing at her. ‘I’ll be with you in about fifteen minutes … no better make that twenty. In the meantime, please don’t touch anything else. Please!’

  He reached out a long arm and pulled Finn close.

  ‘Morons. Pressing buttons they’ve no business to.’ He kissed her hurriedly. ‘No idea how long I’ll be; they may be idiots but they’re also major client idiots. See ya.’

  She watched him as he left the room, his long, loping strides taking him quickly out of her sight, then she became aware that someone else was also looking after Charlie’s retreating back view. A woman a few yards away was staring thoughtfully at the door, her eyes narrowed in a tiny frown.

  Finn shrugged and turned her attention to an elderly lady who just wanted to chat about a glass jug and to confide that she had one at home, just like it.

  ‘I’d like to look at that cup and saucer.’ A clear voice broke into the old lady’s gentle maunderings, causing her to take off in fright. The woman who had been watching Charlie was now staring at Finn, her eyes alight with curiosity and a definitely critical appraisal.

  ‘This one?’ Finn kept her voice neutral, allowing no sign of the irritation she felt; she handed over the delicate Derby cup and saucer and did a bit of covert assessment of her own. Slim, elegant, early thirties, maybe; very good-looking, very well-dressed, a perfect size eight in a five-foot nothing body, with shiny dark hair and a perfect complexion. I hate you already, she sulked then looked up as a man in hi
s late fifties bustled up alongside the woman and put his arm round her.

  ‘Found something you like, honey?’ he smiled fatuously at her, then nodded to Finn. ‘How much?’

  ‘It’s seventy-five pounds,’ she told him sedately, disguising her surprise at the price. ‘There’s a tiny hairline crack just by the handle,’ she read off the accompanying card. ‘Otherwise the price would be much higher. It’s a very sought-after pattern.’

  ‘Well, Amanda darling? What about it? A nice little extra anniversary present, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh, Neil! The woman fluttered her sickeningly long, thick eyelashes at him. ‘How sweet of you.’

  Julia had been watching the scene and brought over some bubble wrap as Finn silently counted out the change from his two fifties and Amanda stood by, still smiling that little-girl smile. Licensed prostitution, showing off her rich husband, Finn sniffed slanderously. Why do I hate her so much? I don’t even know her and please God, I’ll never have to see her again.

  ‘Do you have a shop?’ Amanda was addressing her.

  ‘A shop?’ All Finn could think of was her workplace and she wondered wildly for a moment what Hedgehog’s emporium had to do with anything.

  ‘An antiques shop,’ Julia cut in smoothly. ‘No, nothing like that. We’re just doing this for a good cause – treats for the elderly, you know the sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh,’ Amanda had lost interest. ‘How very … commendable.’ She cast another of those appraising glances at Finn, chewed on her lower lip and then, as her husband moved on to the next stall, she asked with an air of speaking in spite of herself, ‘Will you be at next month’s fair here?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Finn spoke in an airy, but dismissive tone. She was getting seriously annoyed. Why was this woman so interested in her? For interested she certainly was and furthermore she was still darting surreptitious glances towards the door from which Charlie had made his exit.