Mitzi stroked each of them, loving the feel of their fur, soft like liquid silk beneath her fingers. The purrs became loudly competitive.
‘Okay, I was wrong about being alone,’ she kissed the tops of their heads. ‘I’ve got you two … and who knows, I might learn to cook, or find myself another job – or even another man to while away the hours.’
Richard and Judy narrowed their eyes at this and the purring halted.
Mitzi shrugged. ‘I agree, it’s not likely – but a girl can dream, can’t she? Now, give me a few moments to turn into Mrs Slob At Home and then we’ll find something suitable for a lonely celebration supper.’
Showering and changing into jeans and a multicoloured sweater took Mitzi less than half an hour. She surveyed her deliciously golden boudoir-for-one bedroom which had, during Lance’s time, been as bland as the rest of the house but now was rich apricot and honey, with low lighting, and layers of sensuous fabrics trimmed with beads and sequins, and provided sheer, unadulterated, tarty luxury – and decided that a wardrobe purge would be high on her things-to-do agenda. She’d donate all her business outfits to the charity shop, and a major junking-out of her old life would be at least something to keep her occupied for a while. And why stop at the bedroom? Why not the whole house? Why not go for the full life-laundry treatment?
Feeling slightly more positive about filling at least the next few days, she padded downstairs, fed and watered Richard and Judy, then gazed at the stack of dinners-forone in her freezer.
The phone rang just as she’d decided on Fiesta Chicken with a glass of something dry.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Doll’s voice echoed cheerfully in her ear. ‘How did it go? No, don’t tell me, I’ll be round later as soon as I’ve finished work. We’ve only got a couple more patients, so it’ll be in about half an hour or so. Shall I bring fish and chips?’
Mitzi grinned. ‘Fish and chips would be lovely – but won’t Brett be expecting you home?’
‘He’ll be asleep as usual,’ Doll’s voice was still cheerful. ‘He won’t know if I’m there or not. I didn’t want you to be on your own – not tonight. Shall I bring a bottle or two as well – to toast your new-found freedom?’
Mitzi smiled fondly into the phone. Her elder daughter was a perpetual optimist. ‘That’ll be lovely, too. Thanks, love. I’ll warm the plates, chill the glasses and see you soon.’
As she was shoving the Fiesta Chicken back into the freezer, the phone rang again.
‘We’ve got a bloody great big sausage casserole on the go,’ Flo Spraggs from next door barked into her ear. ‘I know you never cook for yourself. Me and Clyde thought you might like to pop round – it being a bit of a sad day and all that. He’s uncorking some of his elderflower and rhubarb, special like. After all, you don’t want to be on your own tonight, duck, do you?’
‘Oh, Flo, that’s really kind of you, but Doll’s coming over as soon as surgery finishes and bringing fish and chips. Will my share of the casserole keep for you until tomorrow?’
‘Bound to,’ Flo said stoically. ‘We always does too much. That’s fine, duck, as long as you’re not on your own. Tell you what, you can nip round here for elevenses in the morning, all right?’
‘Lovely,’ Mitzi smiled. ‘I’ll bring the biscuits. Thanks Flo.’
‘You’re welcome, duck. We just didn’t want you to be lonely tonight.’
‘No, well, it’s going to be a bit strange of course, but – oh, there’s someone at the door … I’ll see you in the morning – and thank you so much.’
Still clutching the phone, Mitzi opened the front door. Her other next-door neighbours, the emaciated elderly spinster sisters Lavender and Lobelia Banding, were standing on the doorstep in the dusk clutching small tea plates covered in tinfoil.
‘We wanted to make sure you were all right,’ Lavender said. ‘Didn’t we, Lobelia?’
‘We did,’ Lobelia confirmed. ‘We know what it’s like to be cast aside. We didn’t want you to be doing anything foolish, did we Lavender?’
‘You’re at a funny age, young Mitzi,’ Lavender said. ‘Withering hormones and what have you. They can play havoc. You’ve been abandoned once by that philanderer you married, and we thought that losing your job might push you over the edge. Lots of people commit suicide at your age you know, especially when they find themselves unwanted.’
‘So we’re here to cheer you up,’ Lobelia beamed. ‘And keep an eye on you – oh, and we’ve made you some nice sandwiches. Fish paste.’
Mitzi chewed the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself laughing. ‘Thank you … oh, you’re lovely – but honestly, I’m fine. And Doll’s on her way over with fish and chips, so I won’t be on my own. And I’m not suicidal, honestly. A bit sad, of course, but otherwise I’m coping.’
‘That’s the shock.’ Lavender nodded, peeling back the tinfoil and chewing on a paste sandwich with relish. ‘You’ll be running on adrenaline right now, but you wait until the reality kicks in.’
‘Um – yes, I’ll bear it in mind … look, why don’t you come in? It’s cold out here and—’
The Bandings needed no further invitation. In a scuttle of drab drooping skirts and much-washed cardigans, they hurtled past Mitzi and positioned themselves in front of the fire.
‘Don’t shut the door, duck,’ Flo’s voice echoed over the fence. ‘I’ve put the casserole on the back burner. Me and Clyde thought you might like a bit of the elderflower and rhubarb to go with young Doll’s fish and chips.’
Slightly stunned, Mitzi waited until Flo and her husband had sprinted up the garden path.
‘Tell the truth, we saw Lav and Lob arrive,’ Clyde said gruffly, kissing her cheek through his bristly moustache and clanking together an armful of wine bottles. ‘We thought you might need someone to tip the balance away from the wrist-slitting.’
‘Lovely and warm in here, Mitzi,’ the Banding sisters twittered happily as the Spraggs trooped into the living room. ‘Mind, you’ll have to watch the pennies now you’re out of work. You won’t be able to have the heat on like this for much longer. We know what it’s like to have to wrap up warm indoors and not turn the fire on until after Coronation Street … Ooooh, Mr Spraggs! Some of your home-made wine! Lovely!’
‘I’ll get some glasses,’ Mitzi said faintly. ‘And maybe I’ll ring the surgery and get Doll to bring some more fish and chips since this seems to be turning into a bit of a party.’
‘That would be a rare treat,’ Lavender pushed the last sandwich into her mouth just as Lobelia reached for it. ‘We don’t ever eat out. Can’t afford it on our pensions. As you’ll find out, Mitzi dear. You make the most of it.’
In the kitchen, Mitzi grinned at Richard and Judy who had retired to the washing basket and who were staring at her with orb-like eyes. ‘Yes, I know. I know. And I thought I was going to be lonely … Goodness me, now what’s that?’
The front door had crashed open. The chatter from the living room had died.
Mitzi stepped into the hall and gazed at the heap of bags now completely blocking the doorway and then at her younger, Afghan-coated daughter leaning red-eyed against the front door.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Lulu sniffed tearfully through a mass of blonde braided hair. ‘I’ve left Niall. This time he’s gone too far – I’m never, ever going back. Never! I hope you won’t mind but I’ve come home – to stay.’
Chapter Two
Mitzi stared at the bulging sports bags, several bin liners and a couple of overstuffed Waitrose carriers strewn across the hall with a real sense of déjà vu.
‘Oh, dear – not again,’ she smiled cheerfully at her younger daughter. ‘Of course you know you’re more than welcome to stay, love. Your room is all made up – but we both know you’ll be back with Niall before tomorrow, so why not leave the luggage where it is and come and join the party?’
‘Party?’ Lulu swept back her beaded braids with a clatter and peered at Mitzi through heavily kohled eyes. ‘Oh, bugger – it’s not your birthday,
is it?’
Mitzi shook her head. ‘That was last month. You bought me a loofah and a book on transcendental meditation.’
‘So I did,’ Lulu looked relieved. ‘So, what’s this for then?’
‘Oh, it’s just a small impromptu bash, thanks to the neighbours, to celebrate the little matter of my enforced retirement. The end of my life. Being officially one of the oldies. Out to grass. No longer needed.’
‘Shit!’ Lulu looked stricken and hopped across the baggage in the hall to hug her mother. ‘Is that today? Oh, Mum – I’m so sorry! I should have remembered.’
Mitzi hugged her back, aware, as always, of her daughter’s slender fragility. It was like hugging a baby bird. Lulu smelled of old clothes and mysterious unidentifiable musky things and dust. Mitzi wouldn’t have expected Lulu to remember. Lulu had never remembered anything at the right time in her entire twenty-eight years.
‘It doesn’t matter, honestly. You’re here now – whether by design or accident – and Doll’s on her way over with fish and chips. Which reminds me, I’d better ring her and tell her to get some extra and—’
Lulu peeled off her Afghan coat and threw it across the banisters where it hovered for a moment before slithering onto the stairs. ‘There! Doll knew it was today! She should have reminded me, she knows what I’m like and–’ she regarded her mother fiercely ‘–I am not going back to Niall. Not this time. Not ever.’
Mitzi smiled gently. ‘No, of course you’re not. Now you go into the living room and chat to Flo and Co. I’ll give Doll a ring for the extras and we’ll talk about it later.’
Picking up the phone, Mitzi closed the kitchen door behind her. Richard and Judy popped neatly out of the washing basket and twisted themselves round her legs. While the phone rang on Hazy Hassocks’s dental surgery reception desk, Mitzi fondled the pair of fluffy grey heads, and pondered on her daughters, wondering not for the first time how she and Lance had produced two such different children.
The phone was suddenly answered with a dragonish roar making Mitzi jump.
‘Oh … yes, hello Viv. It’s Mitzi. Yes, Doll’s mum. Is she still there? Oh, good, good – look, can you tell her to make it fish and chips for five this end – and for herself, of course? Oh, and can she get a veggie burger for Lu, too? Tell her I’ll pay her back when she arrives. Thanks. What? No it’s not my birthday. No, nothing like that. No, no celebration at all really … What? I retired today, that’s all – yes, today. Yes, it has come round quickly, hasn’t it? No, I haven’t got a clue what I’m going to do with myself. The church flower rota? Really? No, that hadn’t been uppermost in my mind … no, nor the bowls club nor the Evergreens’ coffee mornings – or what? Cricket teas? Good heavens …’
She clicked the phone off before Viv could depress her even further. The church flowers, the Evergreens, the bowls club and the cricket teas were all policed and championed by old ladies. Really old ladies. Like Lobelia and Lavender. All of whom wore knitted waistcoats and kept their hats on indoors without their coats and turned first to the obituary column in the Winterbrook Advertiser.
Surely, surely things hadn’t come to this. Not to her. Not when she still danced around the kitchen to the Rolling Stones on Radio Two and remembered doing exactly the same thing, barefoot in Hyde Park in 1969, and felt not a day older.
She scooped up Richard and Judy and kissed them both. ‘It looks as though I’m now officially regarded as one of the Hazy Hassocks wrinklies. Hey-ho … But if you ever catch me wearing the tea cosy as a hat or wandering around the garden at midnight pruning things or starting every sentence with “it wasn’t like this in my day”, you’re perfectly at liberty to look for new lodgings, okay?’
‘You want to watch that, duck,’ Flo Spraggs pushed open the kitchen door. ‘Talking to yourself is one of the first signs. I’ve just come in for some glasses for our Clyde’s elderflower and rhubarb. Young Lulu’s drinking it from the bottle. Says she’s emotionally disturbed.’
‘When isn’t she?’ Mitzi sighed, reaching for a selection of mismatched glasses from the cupboard over the cooker. ‘She and Niall are always volcanic. Not like Doll and Brett.’
Flo took the glasses. ‘Ah – but maybe it’s better to be a bit sparky. Sometimes I look at your Doll and Brett and feel sorry for ’em.’
‘Do you? I’ve always thought they were—’
‘Bored to tears,’ Flo nodded. ‘You mark my words. They’ve been together since they were kiddies at school –what fifteen years? Not married, just fifteen years of the same old routine. Where’s the excitement in that?’
‘Maybe they don’t want excitement. Maybe they’ve found what they’re looking for and have settled for contentment and familiarity. Maybe they’re just happy with one another.’
‘And maybe they ain’t,’ Flo clanged the glasses together. ‘Still, you’ll have plenty of time on your hands to sort both your girls out now, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I suppose I will.’ With a last gloomy glance at Richard and Judy, Mitzi picked up the remaining glasses and followed Flo out of the kitchen.
In the living room, the Bandings were still hogging the fire, standing cheek by skinny jowl with their backs to the flickering flames, their drooping skirts lifted to allow the warmth to soak into their spindly, lisle-stockinged legs.
Clyde was talking earnestly to Lulu on the plum sofa, who, by her crossed eyes, looked as though she’d already had several glasses of elderflower and rhubarb. Mitzi hoped Doll would hurry up with the parcels of fish and chips – Lulu was definitely going to need a massive intake of saturated fat and carbs to soak up the alcohol. Clyde’s home brew was almost 100 per cent proof. Rumour had it that Flo ran her moped on it, and they’d always used it to kick-start the Hazy Hassocks bonfire every November the fifth.
As Flo busily filled glasses, Mitzi smiled fondly at the odd assortment of people in the living room. They were there – with the exception of Lulu, of course – because they cared and didn’t want her to be alone. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe she’d get used to all the WI-ish occupations and the cheap pensioners’ lunches at The Faery Glen, the only pub in Hazy Hassocks, and not having to remember to pluck her eyebrows and shave her legs and have clean shoes …
‘We were just saying, Mitzi dear,’ Lavender grabbed at her glass of wine, not moving a millimetre from the fire, ‘that you’ll have to find some little pastimes to keep you from going – well – funny. Weren’t we Lobelia?’
‘We were,’ Lobelia drained her glass in one gulp and without so much as a cough or an eye-watering blink. ‘Being alone and being unwanted can bring untold misery. It’s one of the blessings that Lavender and I have, being spinsters. We may have no money and no hope of anything wonderful happening, but we have each other. There’s always someone to look out for you on the mornings when sticking your head in the gas oven looks like a good option.’
‘Er – yes, yes – I can see the advantages …’ Mitzi stared hard at the floor.
Lavender noisily sucked the last drops from her glass and held it out for a refill. ‘There’s some of us gets together in the select bar of The Faery Glen every Thursday afternoon, after we’ve collected our pensions, for a nice game of housey-housey and a schooner of Amontillado. You’d really enjoy it. Shall I put your name down?’
Not meeting Lulu’s shocked gaze, Mitzi nodded. ‘That’s – um – very kind of you.’
‘And,’ Lobelia continued as both glasses were topped-up by Clyde, ‘you might like to think about knitting some squares for our Christmas blankets. We always do lots and lots for the lonely old folks in the village.’
Mitzi nodded again. How long would it be before some fresh-faced forty-something knocked on her door with a festive blanket cobbled together in fawn and lovat?
‘And if you find you can’t make ends meet,’ Lavender swayed unsteadily towards the fire, ‘you could always take in a lodger. We’re going to let out our spare room to eke out our pensions, aren’t we, Lobelia?’
&n
bsp; ‘We are,’ Lobelia confirmed. ‘We’ve put an ad in the doctor’s surgery. And we’ll be offering breakfast as well. Cornflakes and toast. We wanted a nice young professional lady. Someone who understands how things should be done – but that damn surly leftie of a doctor says we couldn’t stipulate the – er – sex.’
‘Gender,’ Lavender looked shocked. ‘She means gender. But no, apparently we couldn’t because it’s not politically correct – tosh! – so we had to leave it at “person”. Most unsatisfactory. Still, at least we’ll get someone medical who can help us with our little ailments.’
Mitzi privately thought that by advertising in the doctor’s surgery Lav and Lob were far more likely to attract someone who was even more unstable and infirm than they were. And that any lodger unfortunate enough to take up residence would starve to death within a fortnight. She smiled encouragingly. ‘It’s a lovely idea, but I like to keep the girls’ rooms ready for them – just in case – so I don’t have room for a lodger.’
The Bandings clicked their dentures in sync at this shortsightedness.
‘Oh, you’ll find plenty to keep you amused without all that old duck’s nonsense,’ Clyde said quietly. ‘Far better things to spend your time on. There’s a fair bit of scandal and skulduggery afoot in Hazy Hassocks that you won’t have noticed being a nine-to-fiver and away from here most of the time.’
‘Really? Are Otto and Boris watering down the beer in the pub, then? Or is Mrs Elkins at Patsy’s Pantry overcharging for the iced fancies?’
Clyde stroked his moustache. ‘Oh, you may mock, my girl, but the village isn’t the little haven of tranquillity it looks on the surface. There’s a lot of bad stuff going on. You could do worse than to get yourself elected to the parish council and start sorting out the wrong ’uns.’
Hubble Bubble Page 2
