Rick didn’t answer, but a look of such sadness passed across his face that Vee hesitated. ‘What’s up?’ she said. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
He shook his head. ‘No, no… it was just… oh, nothing. Go and get clean, I’m starving. It’s warm enough to be in the garden now, see you there.’
They ate everything that was in the bag, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the steps leading to the rough expanse of lawn. Vee was relieved that Jed had come back into the house after finishing loading the skip and asked if there was anything else to go, as he had a bit of room left. Just in time, Rick had remembered the half-burnt mattress in the garden. While he and Jed were lugging it through the house, Vee collected as many other bits of old play equipment and broken garden furniture that she could find, and they’d flung those in on top of everything else. Now, the garden looked a lot less depressing, although it was very overgrown.
‘You two are looking very comfy,’ said a voice from over the fence.
Both craned their necks to see who had spoken, but the direction of the sound meant it could only be one person. ‘Hang on, I’m coming over,’ Beryl called. ‘Give me a hand, Rick. It’s easy to break bones when you get to my age, and you don’t want that on your conscience for the sake of a piece of cake.’
Rick got to his feet and made for the part of the garden where the hedge met the decrepit fence. Sure enough, Beryl’s head could be seen getting higher and higher.
‘This is how I used to get over when I came to visit your mum,’ she shouted to Vee. ‘Only I was a good bit younger then and the hedge wasn’t so high. Give us a hand, young man. I’m wobbling on these pesky steps.’
As Rick reached out to help, Beryl passed him a cake tin and slung one leg over the fence. He put the tin down quickly and caught her just as she teetered over towards him. Vee had jumped to her feet by this time, certain that this acrobatic elderly lady was going to plunge headfirst into her garden, but Rick lifted her up as if she was no heavier than a child and placed her gently on the grass.
‘Phew, that was trickier than I expected,’ Beryl said, tidying her hair. ‘I’m glad I was wearing my oldest leggings. That fence hasn’t had a rub down for years, and the hedge is a disgrace, I’m all mossy.’
She began to brush herself down and Vee helped by picking twigs of privet out of her jumper. ‘I’m not sure that’s the safest way for you to come and visit,’ she began but Beryl quelled her with a look.
‘I think I’ll be the judge of that,’ she said, with a sniff. ‘Do you want a piece of my fruitcake, or what? It’s said to be the best in Willowbrook. I won a rosette for it at the village show last summer.’
Rick gestured for Beryl to come and sit down on the steps. ‘We can’t offer you a chair at this point,’ he said. ‘But as for cake, it’s yes from me.’
‘Actually, I didn’t just come to bring supplies,’ Beryl said. ‘I heard the music. Fancied a bit of a dance, I did. It took me right back. Me and your mum.’ She pointed to Venetia. ‘We used to dance on the grass when the mood took us. We cut the hedge right down in one place so we could hop over and see each other.’
‘I don’t remember that happening,’ said Vee. ‘Where was I?’
‘I suppose it was when you’d be at school. We were nifty movers in those days. Turn the volume up, lad, and I’ll show you a thing or two.’
Somewhat bemused, Rick did as he was told and the sound of Billy Ocean singing ‘When the Going Gets Tough’ filled the garden. Instantly, Beryl began to dance, first jigging from foot to foot and waggling her elbows in the style of the more senior wedding guests at the evening disco but then branching out into a kind of solo tango, up and down the lawn.
Vee and Rick looked on in amazement, mouths gaping. As the tempo speeded up, Beryl whooped as she headed back towards them, gave a skip and fell over a tussock of grass. Before she had chance to hit the floor, Rick leaped forward and caught her again, scooping her up in his arms.
‘Ooh, Ricardo.’ Beryl giggled. ‘You’re sooo strong. Good job you were there.’
Vee’s heart was pounding. The sight of the elderly lady heading for what could have been a nasty fall had taken her right back to the final days with her mum, when Tallulah had fallen over more times than she was upright. Then the use of the different name caught at her attention. Ricardo? Why did that ring a bell?
‘What did you just call him?’ Vee asked, in case she’d misheard.
Rick put Beryl down and made a big performance of making sure she wasn’t going to wobble. ‘Oh, it’s just a daft nickname she sometimes uses,’ he said. ‘Right, you’re okay now, aren’t you, Beryl? How about cutting that fruitcake? We really need an energy boost.’
Beryl gave him a sideways look but said no more, busying herself with opening the tin and bringing out a knife, three paper plates and a large cake, gilded with glacé cherries, walnuts and almonds that glistened under their sticky glaze of apricot jam.
Vee thought about pursuing her question, but the sight of the cake put that idea out of her head. She accepted a large slice, almost forgetting to say thank you in her eagerness to bite into it. Silence reigned apart from happy munching noises. Beryl looked to be enjoying her own creation as much as the other two were, but when they’d all finished, she collected their plates and said, ‘It was funny, that song playing just at the right time.’
‘Why was it funny?’ Rick said, brushing the last crumbs from his boiler suit.
‘Well, Tallulah did the exact opposite ofgetting goingwith life when things got tough. Instead of sticking around to sort out her problems here, she voted with her feet, didn’t she, Venetia? She did a runner. Tallulah got going in quite the wrong way. Why was that? I always wondered. Your ma wasn’t the kind of woman to quit, as a rule. Must’ve been something pretty drastic to make you all run away like that.’
Beryl pursed her lips and gave Vee the sort of look that made her feel she was back at school and had once again forgotten to give in her homework. It felt as if Beryl was blaming Vee in some way for what had happened back in 1985. Perhaps she was. Or did she know something else? Something that had been hidden for all these years. Maybe the secrets Vee was keeping weren’t the same ones on Beryl’s mind after all. Vee suddenly felt icy cold, even though the spring sunshine was warming the garden and making the daffodils that had survived the tangled mess of the border almost luminous in their golden glory. How to answer that question? She stalled, and Rick stepped in.
‘I don’t reckon Vee’s up for talking about the past just now,’ he said. ‘Maybe another time, eh?’ He gave Beryl his biggest smile. ‘Now, what I’m wondering is, are we allowed more than one slice of cake?’
Distracted, Beryl began to fuss with the plates again, offering Vee more too, but the churning in Vee’s insides made that seem like a very bad idea. She shook her head. Beryl eyed her suspiciously.
‘Don’t you like my fruitcake? Oh, I get it, you’re on some sort of health kick, I suppose. Well, you’ll be getting more than your five-a-day with this beauty, let me tell you. Sultanas, dates, cherries – you name it, it’s in there. Come on, don’t be shy.’
Vee wondered if it would be easier to give in now and risk being sick on Beryl’s purple slip-on shoes, or try and brazen it out. The first piece, although as delicious as the very best Christmas pudding, lay heavily in her stomach and all this talk of her family’s departure from Willowbrook was making her want to weep. It had been a tough time for them all even before events had escalated and triggered what amounted to a moonlight flit.
