Anthea drew herself up to her full height and fixed Beryl with a steely glare. ‘There’s nothing whatsoever wrong with my lovely motor, thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I just felt like having a glass or two of Prosecco tonight. It’s no fun watching you pair drink your way through the whole lot while I’m stuck with apple juice, you know.’
Beryl refrained from commenting on this change of heart and concentrated on getting her guests organised. Winnie was soon in the kitchen assembling their feast while Anthea busied herself popping the first cork. ‘Cheers, darlings,’ she said, raising her champagne flute. ‘Here’s to many more holidays, although I’m not sure my hip’s up to any more salsa for a while.’
‘Get away,’ snorted Winnie. ‘You’ve got more go in you than the rest of us put together. I saw the way you looked at that DJ at the Bar Tropicana. Silver fox, or what?’
‘He was a bit tasty,’ said Beryl. ‘Are you ready for husband number five, Anthea? Have you given up on Maurice already?’
Anthea took a large swig of Prosecco and topped up their glasses. ‘It’s very sad but I think he could be a total washout,’ she said. ‘We’ve had dinner together on a couple of nights, but both times he started yawning about nine o’clock, just as I was revving up for the evening. Last time he took me out I was in bed by 9.30p.m. On my own,’ she added sadly. ‘Still, you never know. He’s a sweet man and he might up his game yet.’
Winnie turned the heat down on her pans and they adjourned to Beryl’s cosy living room. Two easy chairs and a sofa were positioned so that her large TV screen could be seen from anywhere in the room, each with access to an occasional table and a footstool. This, along with the many embroidered cushions, made the small room seem rather crowded, but Beryl had long ago decided to forego elegance in her home and go for comfort. The walls were hung with enlarged photographs of places she’d visited, both with the Saga Louts and previously with her husband Eddie. There was only one family photograph on show.
Winnie looked round the familiar room appreciatively. ‘I always love looking at your gallery,’ she said. ‘It’s like travelling back through time. We’ve had some fun, haven’t we?’
‘We certainly have,’ said Anthea. ‘And there’s plenty more to come. I know it was a sad business for you two, being widowed like that, and for me with my last divorce, although to be fair, that wasn’t so much sad as being given aGet Out of Jail Freecard. Number four was a pain in the neck. Quite literally, actually. Conrad insisted on having the bedroom window wide open and it played havoc with my rheumatics. Remember him, Beryl?’
‘Yes, I certainly do, Conrad wasn’t your finest choice, was he? Mind you, they haven’t all been bad. I quite liked Grenville until he took off with your gardener.’
‘Who’d have thought Grenville batted for the other side? And Marcus was the best gardener you’d ever had so it was a double whammy. You do know how to pick them, Anthea,’ said Winnie.
She pulled a face. ‘This is exactly why I’m going to be less hasty in the future. I don’t want to go through all that malarkey again unless it’s worth it.’
‘You’re wise to be careful. What about Quentin who took all your best silk knickers with him when you threw him out? Although to be fair, Laurence was okay, apart from the rambling. He was never at home, was he? Lived for his treks across the countryside.’
Beryl laughed. ‘I know, except that last time he rambled off and was never seen again.’
‘But at least the final divorce meant we could team up and take our first trip together,’ said Winnie. ‘When you eventually threw Conrad out it was a relief to all of us. A weekend in Marbella we started with, didn’t we, Beryl? Sun, sea, sangria…’
‘We did indeed. I got sunstroke for the only time ever. Without Eddie there to nag me about sun cream, I took my eye off the ball. As for you, Winnie, I’ve never seen anyone be so keen to go on a banana boat.’
‘And I only fell off once,’ said Winnie, preening herself. ‘I showed those youngsters a thing or two, didn’t I, Beryl? You were hanging on for dear life.’
‘Yes, itwastwo things you showed them, if I remember rightly. Your bikini top came right off. That lifeguard will probably never be the same again.’ Beryl giggled and reached for the TV controls. ‘What’s it to be then? A bit more of lovely Hugh Grant?Notting Hill?’
The other two agreed, and for the next hour, peace reigned apart from the popping of another cork and somewhat bawdy asides about the marvellousness of Mr Grant’s bottom. When a timer pinged in the kitchen, Beryl paused the action.
‘Time to eat,’ she said. ‘Trays on knees, as usual? Then we can carry on with the action.’
Anthea and Winnie agreed readily and got to their feet to help with serving the food. Soon the three ladies were sitting with a padded tray on each lap and the delectable aroma of Winnie’s legendary jerk chicken filling the room. For a while, eating took all their attention, but then Beryl put her fork down and paused the film again.
‘I wanted to talk to you both about something,’ she said. ‘I need some advice. I’m… well, I’ll be honest, I’m proper worried.’
‘That sounds ominous, darling,’ said Anthea. ‘Have you been thinking inappropriate thoughts in church again?’
Beryl snorted. ‘You know I only go to church if the Rev Bev has something interesting on, with cake afterwards. I miss her Happiness Gang meetings. We should arrange a get-together again soon. They gave us a lot to think about, did those get-togethers. But no, it’s nothing to do with Bev. This is more serious.’
She had the full attention of the other two now, which was gratifying. ‘Go on,’ said Anthea. ‘You can’t stop there. Hang on, let me just top our glasses up again if it’s going to be confession time.’
With this task completed, Anthea sat down again and she and Winnie waited for Beryl to continue.
‘It’s abouther-next-door,’ said Beryl, lowering her voice slightly as if Vee was hiding outside the window with her ear to the glass. She took a large gulp of her drink and burped in a ladylike manner. ‘That Venetia Prescott’s unsettled me, and that’s the truth.’
‘In what way? I sussed that you knew something about what happened when the Prescotts left Willowbrook in such a hurry. Come on, spill the beans,’ said Winnie.
Beryl took a deep breath. ‘I can’t stop thinking about my Patrick,’ she said, in a rush. ‘I’m certain Venetia and her nasty little group had something to do with him being so unhappy. There was a big cover-up at the time. The vicar then was a nice chap, quite sexy in his way, but not very… forceful, shall we say. He turned a blind eye to the stuff those kids were getting up to in the churchyard on the nights when their parents thought they were at the youth club.’
‘Oh!’ Winnie’s exclamation made Anthea jump so much she spilt some Prosecco on her dress. ‘The fire! You’re talking about when they set fire to the shed, aren’t you?’
‘Don’t do that again, darling,’ Anthea said, dabbing at the wet patch with a napkin. ‘This is my new one. Can’t go wrong with linen, I always say, but stains never look good. Carry on, Beryl. It’s getting to be like an episode ofGrantchester. I do love a handsome vicar and a bit of intrigue. What fire? What shed? I must have been on one of my extended adventures and missed it.’
