Tickled Pink

by Christina Jones

  Ellis was in the garden with Dom, Norrie and Mr D and Mr B, playing with the model railway layout. She’d watched them from her window. Ellis would leave her now, she knew it. Even if last night hadn’t been just a one-night stand, no man would want a woman who had been such a complete fool. And certainly not one more than twice his age. No fool like an old fool . . .

  As she opened the French doors they all looked up from shunting a goods train into some newly constructed sidings, and smiled kindly. Kindness, as Lola had discovered before, was far harder to take than censure. She blinked hard and smiled back.

  Ellis moved away from the others. ‘They know the gist of what’s happened. Not the full details. No one will say anything. They’re all your friends. They’re on your side in this. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Stupid. Confused. Hurt. Exhausted. Pretty awful, really.’

  He nodded. ‘Understandable. It must be like discovering you’ve been adopted or something. When everything you’ve believed in all your life turns out to be a big pretence. And everyone you’ve ever trusted is uncovered as a liar. It’ll take a long time.’

  ‘I know. It’s also going to drive me crazy because I can’t ask Nigel why he did it. Or how he really felt about me. Or anything. Barbara’s done a good job.’

  ‘She’s a bitch. And a vindictive and hurt one. A dangerous combination. But, honestly, all you must cling on to is the thought that whatever else Nigel was doing in the time you were together, he made you happy. You made him happy. The time you were together was great, wasn’t it? A lot of people don’t ever have that.’

  ‘I suppose not. It just all seems such a waste of my life.’

  ‘Why? You spent it being happy. He may well have lived with you when he retired. It doesn’t matter now. None of the “what if’s” matter. He died. He’s dead. You can’t go back and change any of it. You had a wonderful time together, but now you’ve got to let go and move forward.’

  Lola watched the dozens of tiny trains whizz round their intricate tracks, rattling through stations and halts, past miniature farms, over green rolling hills, and plunging into grey industrial towns. Sunny Dene’s garden was springing into new life, perennial borders already plump with foliage, the lilac trees smelling sweet, the pollarded limes unfurling vivid leaves. Life beginning again.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Thanks for being here. And for understanding. And especially for the last couple of days. They were the best . . .’

  ‘And for me.’ Ellis stared at the trains, too. ‘And we’ll have plenty more. If you want to, that is. I mean, under the circumstances I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me.’

  She scrubbed her fingers across her eyes. It didn’t matter. There was no mascara to smudge. Without the mascara she knew she looked every one of her fifty years. ‘Of course I want to see you. You’ve been . . . It’s been . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ellis smiled, ‘It has, hasn’t it? But you can call the shots. Just let me know when you’re feeling okay . . . whatever.’

  ‘And Tatty?’

  ‘I’ll tell Tatty. Tonight. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life, and Tatty doesn’t deserve to be the first one.’

  Lola sighed. ‘No, she doesn’t. But the age difference –’

  ‘Doesn’t matter to me. Or to you. And is no one else’s concern. We’ll be okay.’

  She nodded. She thought they might be. Who could tell? Who could tell anything about relationships? No one could predict if they’d last or not – maybe the age difference would mean their odds were shorter than most. Maybe . . . And anyway, one thing was abundantly clear, nothing lasted forever. Why not grab a little transient happiness? It was better than the alternative, wasn’t it?

  ‘I suppose I ought to go into The Crooked Sixpence and start work.’

  ‘Flynn and Posy have it all under control.’ Ellis touched her cheek. ‘They’ve been really worried about you and they send their love. I’ve told them the censored version and they’ll do the evening shift as well. You just need to take care of yourself for a while. Go and have another brandy and go to bed for the rest of the afternoon.’ He grinned. ‘Alone. To sleep.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You’re a very special man. Your tutor’s wife must have been crazy to let you go.’

  ‘I’m so pleased that she did, though. If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been here and I wouldn’t have met you, and that would have been a tragedy, well, for me at least. Now go and get some sleep, and try not to think too much about Barbara fucking Marion and her evil spitefulness. She’s gone and it’s over. I’ll call you later. Sleep well.’

  Surprisingly, she did. A deep, exhausted, dreamless sleep that meant she woke feeling refreshed, if shaky and slightly sick. It was growing dark, and she switched on the bedside lamp. Nigel’s face smiled at her from its frame.

  ‘You old bastard.’ She blinked away the threatening tears, and pushed the photograph into the top drawer of the cabinet. Maybe one day she’d throw it away. But not yet. Not just yet.

  Not wanting to eat, and certainly not wanting to join in the happy frivolity echoing from Sunny Dene’s dining room, Lola threw her black jacket over her jeans and sweater, and let herself out of the front door.

  The Crooked Sixpence was early-evening busy. At least she hadn’t interrupted Happy Hour or a karaoke night. As she walked in, everyone turned and looked at her. They knew. She held her breath. Everyone smiled. Kindly. She allowed her breath to escape in a sigh, and smiled back. It was going to be okay.

  Glad, Rose Lusty and Vi Bickeridge were clustered round the jukebox and all waved cheerily. Of course, Lola thought, Tatty wouldn’t be with them tonight. Tatty would be with Ellis. And probably crying.

  ‘Nice to see you,’ Vi shrilled. ‘We’ve missed you, haven’t we girls?’

  The ‘girls’ nodded vigorously.

  ‘Hope you gave that old witch a proper pasting,’ Rose said. ‘She was ever so rude about the facilities in my salon.’

  ‘We don’t want to be talking about her,’ Glad frowned. ‘Young Ellis says she’s been sent packing. Poor Lola’s been through enough. Anyhow, duck, it’s got Gloria Gaynor on here. “I Will Survive”. Reckon that ought to be our anthem, don’t you?’

  Lola nodded, unable to speak. No doubt Glad knew more than she was letting on about the previous night – Lola and her beloved grandson both missing from the village until after breakfast – but even so, the coven had accepted her into the sisterhood. It was all too much.

  ‘Come and chuck a few arrers,’ the Pink twins exhorted from the oche, as though they’d been playing darts all their lives. ‘We’re pretty nifty at 501 now, but we’ll let you win seeing as Glad says you’re going through a rough patch.’

  ‘That’s really kind of you. Maybe later.’

  ‘And as we haven’t got the old hokey-cokey machine going tonight, I’ll play some really nice tunes to cheer us up, shall I?’ Neddy waggled his accordion towards her. ‘Nothing like a good old sing-along to “The Old Rugged Cross” to lift the spirits.’

  ‘That’d be great. I’ll, um, look forward to it.’

  By the time she reached the bar, she was almost laughing.

  Posy paused in pulling a pint and rushed out and hugged her. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay. Ellis told us. It must have been bloody awful.’

  ‘It wasn’t great,’ Lola muttered into Posy’s mass of curls. ‘Thanks so much for all your help, and for being such a good friend.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I owe you. I behaved like a real spoiled brat at the beginning. Too wrapped up in myself to have any time for anyone else. And you’ve changed my life too.’

  ‘Okay,’ Flynn moved Posy gently aside. ‘That’s enough girlie stuff or we’ll all be in tears. Can you go and stop the Pinks wrecking the dartboard – again?’ He waited until Posy was out of earshot, then looked down at Lola, ‘It must have been hell. Is it all over now?’

  Lola nodded.

  ‘Great,’ he kissed her cheek, ‘I’m so glad. And
you haven’t come in here to work, I hope? Because tonight is your night off and we’ve got it under control here. So what would you like?’

  ‘A G&T please, and thank you both so much. Oh, that’s totally inadequate. I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t say anything.’ Flynn grinned at her. ‘Go and sit by the fire. Ellis will be in later. I’ll bring your drink over.’

  He did, and squeezed her hand again. ‘Be happy.’

  ‘You know, don’t you? About Ellis?’

  ‘Sure. Boys talk too, you know. He’s over the moon. I think it’s really cool.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Believe it. Hey, if someone as gorgeous, elegant, and sexy as you had come along when I was twenty-four I’d’ve known I’d died and gone to heaven.’

  Lola was still smiling when the door flew open and Tatty, in her usual multicoloured layers and a lot of frills, squinted round the bar. Spotting Lola, she beamed, and pushed her way across to the fireplace.

  ‘Hi, is everything okay now? Did you get hold of Ellis last night?’

  Oh, yes . . . Lola thought. Oh, definitely yes, yes, yes. She pulled herself up quickly. ‘Yes, thanks. Er, haven’t you seen him today, then?’

  Tatty shook her ringlets. A lot of her tinkled. ‘I haven’t set eyes on him. Which is why I’m here. His damn mobile’s been switched off for hours. Mind you, I’ve been far too busy all day mugging up on the tattooing. Rose is lending me young Malvina as a trainee. We’re going to share her, and we’ve been working out designs and practising. I want to be up and running with the tattoo parlour next week.’

  ‘Great . . . great.’ Managing to smile, Lola groaned inwardly. ‘Um, actually I think Ellis’ll be in here later.’

  ‘I do hope so,’ Tatty lifted her gypsy skirts and sank into the opposite chair. ‘And I hope he won’t be too long because I’ve left Clive Bickeridge baby-sitting the kiddies and between you and me he has no control over them at all.’

  ‘Really? You surprise me.’

  Tatty turned her head towards the bar. ‘I really, really fancy a double brandy. I’m exhausted, but I think it’ll just have to be a bitter lemon.’ She smiled at Lola again. ‘Actually I’m looking for Ellis because I’ve got some really, really good news and I want to share it with him.’

  ‘About the tattooing?’ Lola asked, feeling as guilty as sin. Tatty was so damn nice.

  Tatty shook her ringlets and jewellery vehemently. ‘No – oh, I’m just bursting to tell someone, and you’re such a good friend, only promise you’ll keep it to yourself for the time being?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘Well . . . there’s something that I’ve known about for ages but hadn’t done anything about properly because I’m usually okay dealing with it myself, you know how it is?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lola, who didn’t have a clue what Tatty was talking about. ‘It must be good news though, the way you’re smiling.’

  ‘Oh, it is.’ Tatty beamed. ‘The best. You see, today I’ve been to the doctor, and she’s confirmed that I’m pregnant again.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Posy thought that the parish council meeting had gone really well, all things considered. At least everyone had stayed awake and the vicar hadn’t shouted too much and no one had raised the old chestnut of what was going to happen if it rained.

  Fortunately they’d voted unanimously for the Letting Off Steam nametag, and had been visibly bowled over by the news about The Memory Lane Fair. The discussion about the Limonaire organ playing outside The Crooked Sixpence had caused slightly more uproar. Clive Bickeridge had been assigned to check out the bylaws. It also had been agreed that Queen Mab was to lead a procession of floats around the village, and the carnival queen competition was to take place at the end of May.

  Posters and flyers were now being designed by the Townswomen’s Guild. Proper posters this time, not the hand-written jobs of months earlier, which would be produced and laminated by the vicar’s wife who had obtained the equipment ‘ever so cheap, considering’ from the shopping channel in the mistaken belief that it might make the hymn sheets last a little longer. Stalls had been allocated, and jobs allotted. Everything now seemed to be well in hand for making Steeple Fritton’s Letting Off Steam one of the biggest events on the county’s calendar.

  And next week, Jack Morland and Nell Bradley were coming over to spend an evening with her and Flynn to talk about the fair and the traction engine, and to meet everyone else involved. Dom had returned to university, with Sunny Dene well and truly in the black for the first time in ages. The karaoke nights were bringing in punters from miles around, not to mention all the other Fritton-saving ventures they’d thought up really doing the business.

  There were just a couple of niggling ‘if onlys’ blotting Posy’s immediate horizon.

  If only she hadn’t been so damn boyish when Flynn had said he’d kiss her at Fox Hollow. If only, for once, she’d behaved properly and stood on tiptoe and fluttered her eyelashes and damn well done it. Now all she had was the memory of that slow, erotic finger-stroking, and the fact that she really, really, really liked him – and having turned him down once, he’d never give her a second opportunity to show him how she really felt.

  Added to that, if only Lola wasn’t behaving so strangely, life would be pretty near perfect.

  Still, Posy thought, as she escaped from the village hall and headed for her evening shift in The Crooked Sixpence, Lola had been through a hell of a lot recently. She was entitled to be a bit withdrawn.

  The news that Lola’s Nigel had been a Love Rat hadn’t pleased Posy as she’d thought it would. So many things had changed in the last few months – not least her own intolerance. Lola’s pain was tangible, and grossly unfair. And there was something really strange going on between her and Ellis, too. Try as she might, Posy couldn’t get either of them to talk about it – although the news of Tatty’s pregnancy didn’t seem to have delighted anyone very much, except Tatty, of course.

  The pregnancy had been the main topic of village conversation for two weeks now, eclipsing the reopening of the tattoo parlour, the initial success of Posy’s Gear Change, the inception of Letting Off Steam, and even Barbara Marion’s shattering disclosures. As she’d suspected, her own dumping-and-replacement-by-Sonia was now ancient history.

  Ellis refused to be drawn but looked as though someone had given him a one-way ticket to Afghanistan. Glad was openly furious with Ellis. Dilys and Norrie and most of Steeple Fritton were crowing with ‘I told you so’ faces. Only Tatty was radiantly happy, grabbing anyone who stood still long enough, to ask their opinions on the chosen names, which sadly hadn’t been Horatio and Hebe as Posy had forecast, but were currently Mercutio and Silva.

  The April evening was closing in, but was still as warm as the day had been. Several people were drinking outside The Crooked Sixpence in the twilight, and they called greetings to her as she passed. Inside, Marc Bolan was boogieing from the jukebox and the place was about half full.

  Still smiling, Posy was halfway across the pub before she saw that Lola and Flynn were behind the bar – and in each other’s arms.

  No! The shaft of jealousy that shot through her took her breath away. Not Lola and Flynn! She suddenly realized that she didn’t just like Flynn ... It was more than that. Much, much more. And now – oh, God!

  Aware that people were looking at her, she exhaled and fixed a smile. Lola wriggled away from Flynn, pulled an apologetic face at Posy, and fled towards the cellar steps.

  ‘All okay?’ Flynn asked as Posy squeezed in behind the bar. ‘No one raise any objections?’

  Determined to give them the benefit of the doubt, Posy upped her smile several degrees. ‘None. They loved it all. We’re definitely full steam ahead. The vicar and his henchmen are happily organizing it with all the precision and warm-heartedness of the Nuremberg Rally. Er, how’s Lola?’

  Flynn shrugged. ‘How do you expect? Miserable. She’s going to clean the pipes and reorgani
ze the cellar again tonight rather than serving anyone. She still doesn’t want to talk.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ Posy, praying that she’d leapt to entirely the wrong conclusion, began emptying the slop trays. ‘It’ll take a lot of getting over.’

  ‘She’ll never get over it,’ Flynn levelled a glass under the Guinness pump.

  ‘Oh, I think that’s a bit over the top. It’ll take time, but we’ll all help her. Of course she’s unhappy now and it’s been a heck of a shock, but once she gets over the initial pain she’ll be all right, you’ll see. Look how she’s blossomed recently, dropping all the starchy power-dressing and looking sort of rumpled and sexy and really gorgeous.’

  Flynn slid the Guinness towards Neddy Pink and looked at her pityingly.

  Posy frowned. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like I’ve missed something? I honestly feel dead sorry for Lola, but if I got over Ritchie doing the dirty on me, she’ll be the same eventually, believe me. We women are pretty tough. She’ll find someone else and –’

  ‘She already has,’ Flynn said.

  ‘What?’

  Posy clung on to the edge of the bar. So that was it . . . It was true. She’d always known that Lola and Flynn got on well together, of course, and the fact that Flynn had said Lola wasn’t his type was typical male double-bluff stuff.

  Oh, God – she couldn’t bear it! Selfish or not, she simply couldn’t spend the rest of her life living and working with Lola and Flynn as a couple when she . . . when she . . .

  She looked at Flynn. ‘Since when?’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago. Listen, Posy, I shouldn’t be saying anything. It’s supposed to be a secret.’

  ‘I bet it is. Goodness, you could have told me. I thought we were friends.’

  ‘We are friends. Lola would have told you, I know she would, it’s just that so much has happened since, and things have got complicated.’

  Posy shrugged and assumed an air of disinterest. ‘Oh, that’s okay. I’m not that bothered to be honest.’ She stomped along the bar and glared at a couple of lads from the Cressbeds Estate. ‘Yes?’