The Getaway Girls: A hilarious feel-good summer read

by Dee MacDonald

‘And sandals, and a necklace.’

  ‘Good for you!’ Connie exclaimed. ‘High time you treated yourself!’

  Maggie, still thinking about the telephone calls, wondered if the cost of ‘treating herself’ might be too high. If Ringer really was around here somewhere, it almost certainly would be.

  * * *

  As Connie studied the menu she was conscious of Larry’s leg pressed against hers. She moved hers away, and he followed with his. She wished she’d been wearing trousers; at least then she wouldn’t be quite so aware of his hairy skin.

  ‘The food here is sublime,’ Larry informed them, rubbing his leg against hers. ‘You simply must have the moules, and the salade niçoise, and the fried zucchini flowers, of course.’

  ‘We have to eat flowers?’ Gill looked from one to the other in consternation.

  ‘Zucchini flowers – deep fried and stuffed with ricotta, quite delicious,’ Larry said airily.

  ‘That’s courgettes to you and me,’ Maggie said quietly.

  ‘They sound very interesting.’ Gill’s sarcasm was barely disguised.

  ‘Come on, Gill, be adventurous,’ Connie said.

  Gill rolled her eyes. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘fried flowers it is.’

  But she would not be persuaded to eat the moules marinière. ‘Ugh!’ she said. ‘I can’t eat anything slimy out of a shell!’

  ‘Not very adventurous, your friend, is she?’ Larry murmured to Connie.

  Gill might not be very adventurous, Connie thought, but, in the few weeks since they’d left England, she had blossomed. Apart from the haircut and the tan, she’d managed to lose some weight and, more importantly, she’d softened a little. She swore less, laughed more and, although she and Maggie still bickered occasionally, it was with humour and a certain amount of affection.

  ‘Gill’s all right,’ Connie murmured.

  ‘If you say so…’ Larry pressed closer to Connie. She pulled her leg further away. She was now almost sitting sideways. Maggie eventually cottoned on to her plight, and obligingly moved along to give her some leeway. Maggie was very quiet and seemed rather twitchy, constantly looking around as if she was expecting someone, Connie thought. She was definitely not her usual self.

  The moules, in their creamy sauce, were beyond delicious, as was the famed salade niçoise, which even Gill, who professed not to care much for fish, demolished at speed. And they all ate the fried zucchini flowers, washed down with a great deal of excellent Bordeaux. Then Gill made some reference to the courgettes being left rampant after their deflowering, which set them all off into alcohol-fuelled giggles, particularly Maggie, who seemed to be on the verge of hysteria. Only Larry wasn’t laughing; he adopted the expression of a long-suffering parent unable to control his unruly offspring.

  ‘Are we having pudding?’ he interrupted. ‘I fancy the tart myself.’

  At this the three became hysterical.

  ‘The tarte au citron,’ Larry explained loudly above their laughter. Several heads had turned in their direction from nearby tables. Plainly annoyed at such frivolity, he moved his leg away from Connie’s and continued to study the menu avidly.

  ‘You have your tart, Larry, and I’ll just have some coffee,’ Connie said, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Yes, coffee’s fine,’ Maggie confirmed. ‘And maybe a nice wee brandy to go with it?’

  Connie thought Maggie looked like she could do with a brandy.

  ‘I’ll have Cointreau then,’ said Gill.

  ‘Well, why not?’ Connie added. ‘And, as we’re almost in Italy, I’ll have a Limoncello.’

  Seeing the expression on Larry’s face, Maggie said, ‘Don’t worry, Larry, we’re paying our way, aren’t we girls? We had this little windfall, you see…’ She gave a small smile and looked around distractedly.

  * * *

  Climbing up the Colline du Château didn’t seem such a brilliant idea on full tummies, after too much wine and with Maggie’s bags. They navigated the worn steps with care, and further giggling after Gill’s sandal fell off and she had to descend half a dozen steps to retrieve it.

  ‘No wonder I’m losing weight,’ Gill puffed, while Larry soldiered on ahead, waiting with a look of long-suffering patience at the top.

  ‘Look!’ He spread his arms at the panorama below because there it was, in all its breathtaking glory: the sparkling blue and turquoise of the Baie des Anges, the beach, the Promenade des Anglais, the marina and the city, glittering in the afternoon sunshine. And flowers everywhere.

  ‘Well worth the climb,’ Gill conceded as they fished out their cameras and phones.

  Larry was studying his watch again. ‘We must be off in a minute,’ he said. ‘I’d like to get to Felicity by four o’clock at the latest.’

  ‘Surely Felicity won’t mind if we’re a bit late,’ Maggie said. ‘We’re not in any hurry, are we?’

  ‘We’ve stopped hurrying,’ Connie explained to Larry. ‘We just do what we feel like doing, if and when we feel like doing it at all. That’s the whole point of our trip.’ And it suddenly dawned on her that it was, that time had become unimportant.

  Larry frowned. ‘I thought the point was that you were going to meet relatives in Italy?’

  ‘If they exist. We’ll get there eventually. This week, next week, sometime, never.’

  ‘And I want to look at the view for a bit longer,’ Gill added. ‘Will you just look at those yachts!’

  ‘Don’t let her anywhere near a yacht, for God’s sake,’ Maggie said.

  It took ten minutes to walk to where Larry had parked his Land Rover. It was a foregone conclusion that Connie would sit in the front seat, where she kept as much distance as she could from Larry’s wandering hand, caressing her thigh each time he changed gear. They climbed up and away from the city to a thickly wooded area, eventually turning into a driveway and a car park. From there they walked along a path through the pines, to what looked like a small village of very large mobile homes, Felicity included. Each unit was screened from the others by trees, and formed a large semi-circle facing a giant swimming pool. And from there, through the trees, was a panoramic view of the sea.

  ‘Wow!’ said Connie.

  Larry looked pleased. ‘I think Felicity will be very much at home here.’

  He led the way to where Felicity was sited, accessed by a path of tiny white stones.

  ‘Home from home, what?’ Larry pronounced as he unlocked the door.

  ‘This is great,’ said Gill. ‘But I need to pee. Are you plumbed in?’

  ‘Of course it’s plumbed in,’ Larry retorted, pointing to the relevant door. ‘Now, let’s get the kettle on.’

  As he fussed around in the kitchen area, Connie and Maggie took stock of their surroundings. It seemed enormous after Bella’s modest dimensions. It was luxurious but spartan, and a ray of sunshine was highlighting a network of cobwebs in one corner. It lacked a woman’s touch, Connie felt.

  There was a copy of The Times lying on the table. ‘May I have a look at this, if you’ve finished with it?’

  ‘Of course,’ Larry replied. ‘It’s several days old. Take it with you – no good to me!’ He was fumbling about in the cupboards.

  ‘Let me help,’ Connie offered, all at once feeling a little sorry for him.

  ‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to get out the mugs,’ Larry said, ‘while I look for the biscuits.’

  As Gill emerged from the toilet she said, ‘I fancy having a quick look round that pool.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Maggie, plainly feeling surplus to requirements. ‘Too many cooks and all that…’ She nudged Connie as she headed out of the door.

  Thanks a bunch, Connie thought, as she set out the crockery on a colourful tray Larry had unearthed. The tray, which featured a bright blue sea and sky, white sands and emerald fields, with pink blossoms positioned coquettishly round the edges, proclaimed ‘Northumberland’. Connie wondered on what day of which year the artist had depicted Northumberland in such tropical glory
.

  She was suddenly aware of Larry’s close proximity.

  ‘How about a little kiss?’ he asked, facing her with his hands on her shoulders. ‘While they’re admiring the view, what?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Larry,’ Connie said, backing away.

  ‘Oh, come on, old girl!’ he persisted. ‘At our age we don’t get so many opportunities for a little hanky-panky, what?’

  ‘I am really not looking for any hanky-panky,’ Connie said slowly and clearly, as she tried to extricate herself from his embrace.

  He was strong and persistent. ‘Just a kiss,’ he pleaded, ‘for now. But perhaps we could lose the other two tomorrow?’

  ‘No, Larry!’

  Now he had her pinioned to the wall, his lips seeking hers and his right hand seeking her breast.

  ‘GET OFF, PLEASE!’ Connie turned her head to one side to avoid his lips while frantically trying to push him away and remove his hand. As she edged towards the work surface she managed to extricate herself for a moment.

  ‘I like a woman who puts up a fight,’ said Larry through gritted teeth.

  It hadn’t put him off though. As he tried to kiss her again, Connie said, ‘I’m going to shout, Larry, and really loud! Think about your neighbours!’ Because this was outrageous, in broad daylight and with the other two due back any minute!

  He tried again to grab her by the shoulders in a clumsy embrace.

  ‘Get off, Larry!’ Connie shouted at the top of her voice.

  He backed off. ‘OK, OK, keep your voice down!’

  They could hear footsteps on Larry’s path.

  ‘Tea ready yet?’ Gill asked cheerfully as she bounced in through the open door.

  * * *

  The next evening, sitting outside Bella, Connie was relieved to know there would be no more Larry, having told him so in no uncertain terms. She enjoyed these evenings with purely female company, when they sat outside to eat supper, drink wine, fall asleep. And they chatted. Gill spoke of her husbands and lovers and Maggie spoke of happier days with Ringer. And Connie realised that she felt more relaxed and content than she had in a long time. Because, in spite of their differences, they were all getting along just fine.

  During the day they’d taken themselves to Monaco on the train, where Gill spent most of her time going on about how crazy it was to have a station ‘in the middle of a bleedin’ tunnel’. Maggie said it was all exactly as she had expected, with the high-rise buildings and the yachts and, if it wasn’t a tax haven, who would want to live in what was, after all, a millionaires’ skyscraper estate? Connie thought it had a certain charm with some noteworthy buildings, particularly the casino, and so many beautiful flowers everywhere. Best of all, they’d managed to avoid lecherous Larry.

  Now, as they sat sampling some of Jean-Paul’s finest vintage, Gill said, ‘At times like this I’m really glad I’m not married any more.’ Seeing the raised eyebrows of the other two, she added, ‘I don’t mean that I wouldn’t like to get married again, ’cos I would. But there’s something very nice about being free, sitting here getting gently sloshed with you two.’

  ‘It’s what’s known as friendship,’ Maggie informed her.

  ‘Do you like being free, Connie?’ Gill asked.

  ‘Yes, I do. I love it, but it can be a little lonely at times. Not with you two around though.’

  ‘Were you really married for forty years?’

  ‘Forty-one years,’ Connie said.

  ‘Blimey!’ Gill said. ‘That’s a life sentence! Except you’d have got time off for good behaviour.’

  ‘Some people wouldn’t be able to turn their lives upside down after all that time,’ Maggie said. ‘They’d just soldier on. I think you were very brave.’

  Connie was aware that she’d never really opened up to the other two about her marriage. They knew, of course, that she was divorced and had three children and that she’d been married for such a long time, a fact that plainly intrigued them.

  ‘Why would a marriage go wonky after forty-one years?’ Gill had persisted. She’d always been very vocal about her own relationships. ‘The only decent bloke I ever had died on me,’ she added, a fact that obviously still rankled.

  Maggie, on the other hand, had asked more than once, ‘If he wasn’t beating the hell out of you, why would you bother to leave him at this stage of life? Or was there someone else?’

  ‘No one else,’ Connie had replied firmly. ‘I told you about my trip.’ But she’d never really explained much. It had all been too personal and she hadn’t known these women well enough. But Connie had become very fond of them both, although at home they’d been merely acquaintances, not particularly her ‘cup of tea’. And she still wasn’t sure why she’d ever considered bringing them along. Nevertheless, over the miles and the metres, they’d grown close. And now, at last, she felt able to open up a little to them.

  They were both looking at her expectantly.

  ‘Well, I told you I was brought up with my uncle’s family. Then I became a florist, and also did a couple of summers as a tour guide.’ She thought fondly of Freddy, who’d been her fellow guide on both trips. Camp as a row of tents, but great fun. ‘And then I married Roger. He was very handsome and very respectable, he got me pregnant and so we had to get married.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Gill said impatiently. ‘And then you were married for a million years!’

  ‘And you had three children,’ Maggie added, refilling their wine glasses.

  There was a pause before Connie said, ‘I had four children.’

  ‘Four?’ they chanted in unison.

  ‘Yes, four. There was Ben as well. He was born when Diana, my eldest, was nearly five, and before I had Nick and Lou. He was killed. An accident.’

  There was a horrified silence before Maggie said, ‘Oh, Connie!’ and Gill said, ‘Oh God!’

  ‘It’s a long time ago now,’ Connie went on, ‘but, do you know, I think about him every single day. He loved swimming and, every time I look at this beautiful sea, I imagine how he’d have enjoyed this.’

  ‘I know I moan about my lot sometimes,’ said Gill, ‘but I can’t bear to think about losing any of them.’

  ‘You should never outlive your children,’ Maggie said. ‘However did you cope, Connie?’

  ‘Well, you have to,’ Connie replied. ‘I had three other children to bring up.’

  ‘And your husband, what’s his name again?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Roger.’

  ‘How did he cope?’

  ‘Roger coped by immersing himself in work and going to church on Sundays.’

  ‘Not much help to you then,’ Gill retorted.

  ‘No, but I had a wonderful neighbour who helped enormously. But, you know how sometimes that kind of a tragedy can bring couples closer? Well, it didn’t for us.’

  ‘Was that where it all started to go wrong?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Connie said truthfully. ‘There were other factors involved.’

  ‘Like what?’ Gill asked.

  ‘Roger was always a very “closed-up” sort of person, if you know what I mean,’ Connie continued. ‘Sad to say but I never felt, deep down, that I really knew him. And now, I know for sure that I didn’t.’ She paused. ‘We never had a joined-at-the-hip type of marriage, so that may be why I didn’t notice the indifference creeping in over the years. I just thought it was because we had different friends, different hobbies.’

  ‘When did it come to the crunch?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Well, one day I just decided I’d had enough. Not just of Roger and his endless golf, but I was expected to look after the grandchildren three or four days a week. On my own. And then there was the bungalow.’

  ‘The bungalow?’

  ‘Yes, the bungalow. I hated it. Roger decided it was a sensible choice for our retirement.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with a bungalow,’ Gill murmured.

  ‘No, there isn’t,’ Connie agreed. ‘But I’d loved our old hous
e and my lovely garden and didn’t want to downsize. I’m sure it was the sensible thing to do but, for me, it was the final straw and I decided I needed to get away; recharge my batteries, leave them all to it. So off I went.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  Connie described her trip from Sussex up to the Highlands of Scotland and back again, and how it had changed her perspective on life. She reduced them to tears of laughter at some of her escapades.

  ‘Things just happen,’ Connie explained, ‘when your car gets a puncture or breaks down, or you stop somewhere for a meal or a pee. But, you see, I was leaving myself wide open to new experiences for the first time in years.’

  She spoke too about how she’d constantly thought about Ben, finally absolving herself from blame and finding some peace of mind. Gill wept openly when Connie said, ‘Treasure your children, even when they drive you crazy. Because there’s no love, or loss, like it.’

  ‘I feel bad now thinking that I came on this trip to get away from them,’ Gill said, wiping her eyes. ‘I love them really.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Connie said.

  ‘I’ve just the one,’ Maggie said sadly, ‘and I don’t see him very often, but he’s there, in my heart, all the time. I’m not very religious but I pray for him every day.’

  ‘And you found a lover?’ Gill chipped in, eager to change the subject.

  ‘Well, apart from Don, who I told you about, I had some other amazing experiences. In fact everything that happened to me made me realise that life is short and to be lived, not endured. So, after six weeks, I headed home to tell Roger I was leaving him.’

  More gasps.

  ‘I worried myself sick about how I was going to tell him, and how he’d react. I didn’t want to hurt him, you see.’

  ‘And?’ Gill had moved closer.

  Connie paused. ‘Well, all I can say is that it was obviously time to leave.’

  ‘And your children?’ Gill asked. ‘How did they take it?’

  ‘Di and Nick were upset at first, but have taken it quite well. My youngest, Lou, hasn’t. She’s always been a real “daddy’s girl” and he can do no wrong. According to Lou it’s all my fault for going off and leaving him like that.’