by Judy Leigh
Lil thought she ought to finish the sentence. ‘You’ve grown apart?’
‘It’s got worse over the last two years. He just watches TV now and I do all the running about.’ Maggie sipped cold coffee. ‘I try to make the best of what I’ve got, although I never have anyone to talk to. But you’re next door, thank goodness, and you cheer me up. And my kids come to visit with the grandchildren, so I have that to look forward to.’
‘Thank goodness for our kids, Maggie.’ Lil nodded. ‘I’m so glad I have my Cassie. She’ll meet us here soon.’ She stared at the half-drunk coffee and pushed the mug away. ‘Do you know, she invited me to live with her before I moved here? We’ve always been good company for each other, but she needs her own life, so I chose to come to this place instead. I’m glad I did too.’
‘How long have you lived here now?’
‘Oh, years. I ran the B&B for ages: Cassie came home from her travels, after teaching abroad, and we ran it together for a while. She made a name for herself on the circuit with her performance poems, going all around the country, and she’d bought her little place down the road, so I moved here. I’ve always been independent. I fancied the idea of sheltered accommodation where I could do my own thing. I like it, especially having nice neighbours like you.’
‘And what about the man Cassie lives with? They aren’t married, are they?’
Lil shook her head. ‘No, you won’t get our Cassie settling down. She wasn’t brought up that way. She’s had plenty of offers, mind, but she’s a free spirit, like me. Men let you down sometimes. I think most men find Cassie a bit too headstrong – she does her own thing. Jamie, the chap who lives with her, is just a friend. He’s really nice.’
Maggie gazed at the clock on the wall. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better get back to Brian, to the silence and the stench.’
‘Why? Stay here and have another cuppa.’ Lil was baffled. ‘He won’t have noticed that you’re not there.’
‘He never does,’ Maggie mused. ‘It’s just habit, I suppose. It’s nice to spend time with you, though. You make me smile. Time away from Brian makes me realise that I’m still alive.’
‘Cassie and I will call round for you later and we’ll walk down to the sea. I love watching the waves roll in.’
‘Me too – the fresh air and the view are lovely.’ Maggie eased herself upright. ‘I’ll look forward to that. I’d better bring a coat. The wind’s chilly today. I’ll see you later, Lil.’
Lil watched her friend walk through the café and stop at the door, calling a cheery greeting to someone who was approaching. As Maggie left, a snow-haired woman in a black velvet cape and jeans with huge holes in the knees rushed in holding a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates. Lil leaped to her feet, ignoring the twinge in her hip. ‘Cassie.’
‘Great to see you, Lil.’ Cassie hugged her mother, feeling the small woman’s arms wrap around her: Lil felt as fragile as a sparrow.
‘A latte for my Cassie, please, Keith,’ Lil called.
‘Coming up, gorgeous,’ Keith yelled back from the kitchen.
Lil was beaming. ‘Sit down, Cass, tell me all about it. How’s the outside world doing? Do you know, I meant to come to The Jolly Weaver last night to see you perform but I was a bit tired. I should have got a taxi or asked Jenny Price if her Tim would give me a lift.’
Cassie put her lips close to her mother’s ear. ‘Talking about Jenny Price, she stopped me on the way here. She was very surprised…’
‘Oh?’ Lil showed her daughter the innocent expression of an angel.
Cassie knew the look so well. ‘Her office was spotless.’
‘How strange.’
‘The poor woman was mystified by how it had suddenly become so tidy.’
‘Really?’ Lil placed a hand over her mouth, batting her eyelids. ‘She had a takeaway pizza delivered to her office last night too, and she’ll have no idea where it came from…’
Cassie hugged her. ‘You are just so lovely, Lil.’
‘I feel like the elusive Scarlet Pimpernel, you know: they seek her here, they seek her there… It relieves the monotony too.’ Lil sighed and put a hand to her hair, the same soft snow-white hair as her daughter’s but thinner.
Cassie shook her head. ‘What about a hobby?’
‘I do yoga with Geraldine and macramé once a week with a handsome art student.’
‘That’s not much – you need a proper hobby.’
‘I’ve got hobbies – I come to the Kaff to tease Keith, and help Jenny with random acts of kindness. That keeps me mentally agile. I keep an eye on Maggie next door and help her recover from the intense boredom of living with her Brian, bless her.’
‘You could learn a language or take up drawing.’
‘Life drawing might be all right.’ Lil leaned back in her seat. She thought of the cartoon man with the horse-riding woman on his back in the novel she was reading. ‘I’d happily sketch a lithe young man with muscular thighs. A proper model, a big naked man, that would be good.’
Cassie gazed in disbelief. ‘Shall I buy you some art materials today, then?’
Lil patted her hand. ‘Talking of which, Cass – have you got a piece of scrap paper and a pen?’
Cassie rummaged in her bag and handed her an A5 sheet, with one blank side, and a biro. ‘Here. Are you going to do a sketch now? Shall I pose?’
‘No, I have to make a list. There are just a few things I need you to get for me.’ Lil turned the paper over, pen poised thoughtfully. ‘Some of that face cream for the over forties and some more sweets, the chocolate triangles. Oh, and some hand cream, the jasmine one. There was something else I wanted…’
‘We can finish it later,’ Cassie suggested. ‘How about a walk back to Clover Hill, through the garden, down to the path and we can look at the sea?’
‘That would be smashing.’ Lil eased herself up. ‘I’ll have to get a warm coat if we’re going outside. We’ll call for Maggie. And you can tell me about the poems you’ve been writing. Did you write that new song about pollution?’ She moved forwards precariously, making sure her hip joint took no strain. ‘Come to think of it, we could do with a bit of global warming. There’s a bitter wind outside. It comes off the sea and cuts through right to your bones…’
Cassie caught her eye, the mischievous twinkle, and nodded. She was reminded at these times how much she loved her mother, how resilient she was, how wilful. That was how Lil had kept going all her life, basic bloody-mindedness – it was how she’d dealt with adversity and challenge, how she had pulled through. Cassie took her arm, feeling the thin body against hers, the fragile bones. The surge of love and respect she was feeling became momentary anxiety. Lil was eighty-two; Cassie would not have her mother forever. She hugged her tighter, sensing Lil lean against her gratefully, and they moved together in step towards the door.
‘It’s not going well, Jamie.’ Cassie chewed the end of her pen and adjusted the huge red reading glasses perched on her nose. ‘It’s too didactic. You can’t make pollution funny and you can’t preach to people as if they know nothing about the subject when so many people do. Maybe the tune is wrong – I think it has a comedy feel to it with the fast banjo and that’s not right.’
‘Sing me what you’ve got so far. This is almost done.’ Jamie stirred the sauce for the moussaka he was making, easing his body round to gaze at Cassie, who was sprawled in her chair, her arms across the table. She moved herself to an upright position, picked up her banjo, gave a small cough and launched in, her voice strong and passionate as her fingers tickled a jolly tune.
It’s sadly fantastic
That we need to get drastic
We have so much plastic swamping our seas…
Cassie stopped, her face pinched in an expression of frustration, and shook her head. ‘It’s trite. One for the bin, I think.’
‘It might work, Cassie – maybe slow it down a bit, make it mellow,’ Jamie suggested, piling salad in a serving dish. ‘It’s a bit pessimistic, but
that’s the effect you’re striving for.’
Cassie watched him lift the salad bowl with both hands and she sighed. ‘I think I need to come back to it. I’ve started a poem about dreams. It has potential. I might return to that one. I’m just – feeling a bit stale at the moment.’
Jamie walked over to stand behind her chair, placing his hands on her shoulders, pressing down gently. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweetness of her scent. ‘You work hard. Maybe you need a break. Go for walks, take time out. You know, spend some energy caring for yourself?’
‘I haven’t had a holiday in years, not a proper one.’ Cassie closed her eyes and inhaled. ‘The moussaka smells delicious.’
‘It’s ready for the oven. And meanwhile, I’ll open a bottle of red. Then you can tell me all about Lil and the mischief she’s been up to.’
Lil adjusted her reading glasses, sipped her tea and stared at the list she was writing. She couldn’t remember what the other item was that she needed Cassie to buy for her: hand cream, face cream, chocolate triangles. What was the other thing? She scratched her head for a moment, thinking – that was it, shampoo, some of that stuff that made white hair glossy. She wrote in her careful handwriting: shampoo. She touched the piece of paper she was writing the list on, the one Cassie had pulled from her handbag, and turned it over. Something was printed on the other side.
She stared at it. It was a poster of some sort, advertising Toby Jugg Tours, and there was a colourful map. Lil brought her the leaflet closer, tracing the coastlines with her finger: France, Belgium, the Netherlands. She read the small print: the holiday would visit three countries, there would be beautiful scenery, chocolate to sample, beer, you could even visit a farm, and there would be a minibus to take you from one place to the other.
Lil rubbed her chin thoughtfully. A holiday would be nice. Mobility wouldn’t be an issue in a bus: she could take plenty of cushions. Cassie could do with a break too. Lil thought she had looked a bit tired; her eyes had been circled with dark smudges.
She listened to the television blaring from Maggie’s flat next door. Brian was watching The Sweeney again and Maggie was probably watching Brian. Then, suddenly, Lil was clapping her hands together. An idea was forming. She had no mobile and using the phone in the flat was much less exciting. Lil glanced at the clock and wondered if Jenny Price would be in her office. If not, the door might be unlocked and she could just slip in. It would only take a few minutes and she’d leave her a chocolate triangle, just to say thanks. She grabbed the leaflet from the table and whirled towards the door, noticing that her hip had temporarily stopped aching. That was a good sign: she was revitalized – she had a plan.
4
Cassie strode into The Jolly Weaver, immediately noticing the group of people crowded around two tables pushed together in the corner. Tommy stuck a pen behind his ear and yelled, ‘Over here, Cass.’
She sailed past the bar and Duncan called over to her. ‘I’ll bring you a pint and join you in a moment. Kerry can hold the fort.’ His wife muttered something and he gave a short grunt, as if he had been told off. Cassie sat down at the table, moved a beer mat towards her and gazed from face to face.
Tommy pulled the pen from behind his ear and put a tick next to Cassie’s name on his notepad. Cassie noticed the other people around the table: next to Tommy, Emily Weston, the five-a-side striker, waved her fingers in greeting, her ponytail swishing. The other members of the team smiled: tall, lean DJ Niati, Jake Mathers dressed in vampire black, then Pat Stott, grinning shyly.
She also recognised Sue Wheeler, who ran the Salterley tennis club. Sue was short and slim, her hair cut stylishly straight at her jawline. She had an intelligent expression, tight slacks below a cashmere jumper and a loose turquoise scarf. The man next to her was Ken Harrington, tall, slim, light-haired, probably in his late fifties, a similar age to Sue. He was wearing a smart blazer with brass buttons, a green silk cravat knotted at his throat. He lifted a hand and waved. Cassie recalled his talk in the library a year ago, about Richard the Third. It had been quite lengthy.
In the seat next to him was a broad-shouldered, muscular woman with auburn hair in a sweeping style. She introduced herself.
‘Denise Grierson. I’m new to the area.’ She glanced at the man and woman next to her. ‘And new to the tennis club. I’ve recently moved into Larkside Avenue, just down the road from Sue.’
She offered a little wave of her hands as she spoke, clearly self-assured. Cassie noticed that Denise pronounced Sue as Syoo and she noted the imperceptible nod of approval from Ken Harrington and how Sue’s nose turned up at the end, as if she could smell something unpleasant. Duncan sat next to Cassie and put two pints of beer on the table, one for himself and one for her. He rubbed a hand across his hair, which had recently been cut shorter, a helmet of thick fur. ‘Right, Tommy. We’re all here. I think we can start now.’
Tommy studied a sheet of paper and began to examine each name.
‘Cassie’s here, tick… Duncan, co-organiser… tick. Then there’s me, Tommy… tick. Others from my five-a-side team… Emily… DJ… Jake… Pat, tick… Tennis club members, Sue, Ken… Denise, the new lady, all here. Not present – Lil Ryan plus one. That makes… one missing, oh, Albert… he’s here, good.’ He glanced at Albert, who reached for his pint of beer, oblivious, supped a mouthful and closed his eyes. ‘Right, everyone…’
Cassie lifted her pint. ‘Before we begin, Tommy, thanks for your text inviting me here. But I’m not sure why. Something about a holiday?’ She was aware of the others’ eyes on her. Emily Weston, slender, fresh-faced, who could be no older than twenty-two, winked at her. Jake whispered something to DJ and sipped his half-pint of lager.
Tommy stretched his arms and cleared his throat. ‘Okay. We’re here today because we’ve all signed up for the Toby Jugg tour of northern Europe – Toby Jugg, that’s me – it sounds like Tommy Judd and it’s a tubby beer mug. ’Nuff said, ha, ha. Well, France and Belgium and – what’s the other place? Ah, Amsterdam – the place famous for canals and bicycles and… other things.’
Jake and DJ met each other’s eyes and laughed. Pat sat up too quickly and almost spilled his lager.
Tommy continued, using his sheet of paper as a prompt. ‘So, there are thirteen of us going, which leaves plenty of space at the back for luggage and – beer – or any souvenirs we might bring home. Dunc’s co-organising, the five-a-side football team including me – I’m the driver, of course, being fully-qualified.’
Jake and DJ nudged each other, then DJ mimed a driver careering round corners. Pat laughed too loudly.
‘Then we have the tennis club – well, three members of the tennis club – welcome, Sue, Denise and Ken. Oh, and Albert, will be joining us.’ He pointed to the older man wearing a large overcoat who had been dozing next to a glass of beer. He opened sparkling blue eyes, smiled in acknowledgement and lifted a finger in greeting.
‘That’s ten,’ Ken observed.
‘And Cassie and your two guests.’
‘Ah…’ Cassie took a breath. ‘That’s the part I’m not clear about. While I’m delighted you phoned and asked me to be here, I have no idea where any of this comes from. I haven’t signed up to go on a holiday.’
‘Your mother rang me up – she said to text and ask you to attend this meeting on her behalf.’ Tommy wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. The temperature in the bar had become warm.
‘My mother?’ Cassie leaned forward. ‘I see…’
Tommy nodded. ‘She sounded like the Queen on the phone. She booked three places.’
‘Three? Me, Jamie and my mother?’
‘No, you, Ms Ryan and a Mrs Maggie Lewis.’
‘Maggie?’ Cassie covered a smile. ‘I’m going on a coach trip to the Netherlands with Lil and Maggie? Well, I’m – speechless.’
‘She’s already paid the deposit.’ Tommy wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, wondering if Cassie might withdraw from the trip and leave him in the lurch having to f
ill another seat. He’d found it hard enough to convince Sue and Denise from the tennis club to go and they’d only agreed because Ken Harrington, who seemed an authority on all things cultural and had once been a town councillor, had said he would take a place simply to see the architectural delights of Bruges and Amsterdam.
‘Okay.’ Cassie sipped from her pint glass. ‘It seems we’re going on holiday together, me, my mother and Maggie.’
‘And the five-a-side team,’ Pat added. He was an earnest young man with the sweet, round, red face of a cherub. ‘It will be great. We’re going to get a game against the Belgians. Dunc’s organised it.’
‘Well, Kerry has,’ Duncan admitted. ‘I’ve had to promise her a fortnight in the Costa del Sol to make up for me being away for nearly two weeks. Of course, her sisters will come down and help her run this place. She always has a good time when Katy and Michelle are here.’
Sue Wheeler crossed neat legs. Her voice was strong, booming. ‘You say there will be cultural opportunities, Tommy – art galleries and fine wine. Have those been booked in advance or do we need to organise them ourselves before we go, my dear?’
‘I can book galleries online for us all.’ Ken Harrington spoke in a deep, well-modulated voice. ‘And I can help to choose some quality restaurants for those of us who appreciate fine dining. Don’t worry, Sue,’ Ken continued slowly and deliberately, in an authoritative manner. ‘There are several good hotels along the way. I’ve advised Tommy about the best accommodation and food; we should be in for some excellent cordon bleu meals. I’ve been to France a lot and, I have to say, I’m your man when it comes to knowing my poulet roti from my boeuf bourguignon.’