And then she was gone, her heels clicking all the way through the shop, only stopping when the ping of the front door told him she’d exited the building.
He wandered out of the staffroom after her, trying not to pay any attention to Josie and Val’s beady, inquisitive stares. He cracked in seconds.
‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’m no match for you two. Okay, so she has to go back to work and it’s no biggie – she’ll definitely be home in time to get ready for dinner. We’re still on for tonight. All systems go. Houston, we do not have a problem.’
Their silence told him that neither of them were impressed by this news.
‘So you have two choices,’ he continued. ‘Go spread your evil cynicism elsewhere… or stay here while I try on a few suits and help me choose one.’
They thought about it for a moment.
‘Will there be partial nudity involved?’ Josie asked suspiciously.
‘Almost definitely,’ Cammy answered.
Josie pondered that for a moment, then, ‘I don’t have anywhere to be, do you Val?’
Val shook her blonde bob. ‘I don’t, now that you mention it. Digby, son, I’ll have another coffee, if you don’t mind.’
Cammy shook his head, ruefully. ‘You two are a complete nightmare, you know that don’t you?’
‘We do,’ Val said solemnly. ‘It’s part of our winning charm.’
‘Can we ban them from the premises?’ Digby asked, joining in. He’d only known Val and Josie for a few months, but he could see why everyone loved them – they could dish out banter and take it back in equal measure.
Cammy sighed. ‘They’ll just keep coming back. We’re better putting them to good use.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Right ladies, we’re game on. I have about an hour to find the perfect outfit in which to ask the woman I love to marry me.’
‘No problem, son,’ Josie replied. ‘Digby, have you got any straitjackets in stock? Size 42 long.’
19
Bernadette
Bernadette’s pulse was racing as she opened the door, even though she knew he wouldn’t be home yet. Marge had said seven o’clock, but experience told her that meant nothing. The simplest operation could take double the usual time if they hit complications, while the most complex of surgeries could go smoothly and finish in less time than estimated. Seven was a guideline, not a fact.
‘So what’s first?’ Sarah asked. ‘After switching on the kettle, making tea and finding some kind of high carbohydrate snack in your cupboards. I swear your life is making me gain ten pounds a week.’
‘Nothing to do with the cake you were shovelling down your gob earlier then?’ Bernadette asked.
‘Nope, absolutely not,’ Sarah said with an act of pure innocence while she set about grabbing cups, teabags, getting the milk from the fridge.
Bernadette paused, slipping back into that sentimentality that kept creeping up on her today. ‘You know, Sarah, I’m so grateful you’re here. I’d be a blubbering mess if I was doing this on my own.’
Sarah stopped, sugar spoon in air. ‘No you wouldn’t, Bernie. You’ve lived with that man for thirty years. That takes balls of steel.’
‘Or cowardice.’
‘We both know it wasn’t, and don’t say that again,’ Sarah chided. ‘If I wasn’t here you’d have got on with this, you’d have done it all yourself and you’d have walked out that door. This is your time now, Bernie. You know that.’
Bernadette sniffed. ‘Don’t make me cry. I don’t think I’d be able to stop.’
Sarah could see how vulnerable she was, how close to melting, and deployed diversionary tactics. ‘You know what has been clinically proven to help with that?’ she asked.
‘Prozac?’ Bernadette joked.
‘Nope, cake. Why do you think I’ve got an arse the size of a small island? When Drew left me I cried for a decade.’
Sarah’s ex-husband, Drew, had just divorced his third wife, each one going down a decade in age. Consistency or middle-aged women obviously weren’t his strong points.
