Scuba Dancing

by Nicola Slade

  Ever happy to be distracted from the really serious matter in hand, namely the problem of finding first, three other like-minded and well-heeled holiday makers, second the small matter of nearly four thousand pounds, which a jumble sale or two would hardly make a dent in, and third, the prospect of ending up in the Scrubs on a fraud charge, the gang got down to business and the question was debated loud and long.

  ‘I know.’ It was Delia Muncaster, tipping up the now almost empty bottle of Tio Pepe. ‘Let’s call ourselves Hope Springs. You know the quotation?’ She looked round at the rest of them and sighed as she registered several blank faces. ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast.’

  They adopted it with enthusiasm and, in Julia’s case, a certain amount of relief. She had been having difficulty in steering Bobbie away from her treasured suggestion: The Good Time Gang.

  It was lunch time and the group was getting restless. Jonathan Barlow was fretting about giving Pauline her lunch and Ursula was twisting her hands as she worried about Henrietta, who could be more than usually unpleasant if her food was not on time.

  ‘I’ll have to go.’ Sue Merrill gathered up her bag and headed for the door. ‘I’ve a meeting in half an hour. Let me know what you decide, I can manage the first week in July, but not earlier,’ she warned. ‘I’ll go along with anything you want, just hand me the rubber stamp. What about extra people though?’

  At the sitting-room door she nodded to Julia as a thought struck her.

  ‘You could always ask your sister, of course,’ she suggested. ‘And isn’t Jamie’s son around too? Do they know each other? If they get on all right they might like the chance. At least they know our set-up and they might not mind tagging along in exchange for a cheap holiday.’

  Eventually Rosemary and Delia Muncaster were the only members of the group left at Forge Cottage. Julia raised her eyebrows at her friend and gave a tiny nod towards the predatory creature communing with Julia’s own sherry bottle.

  ‘How about a spot of lunch?’ Rosemary rose to the occasion. ‘I could rustle us up a salad if you’d care to come across the green?’

  Julia hastened to offer lunch on her own behalf, too, but both were waved aside by Delia who uncrossed her elegant, stick-thin legs with their amazingly long, bony feet encased in Manolo Blahnik pumps. She stood up, shrugging on her pink wool coat – Very Jackie Onassis, thought Julia in admiration – and arranging the matching pillbox hat on her glossy, blow-dried, improbably black chignon.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Delia announced. ‘You two will come to the pub with me and we’ll form a sub-committee of three – the sub-committee that gets things done instead of waffling about it all day.’

  They were all greeted with smiles and nods all round at the pub, while Delia’s reception was more in the nature of a royal one. News of the size of her final bar bill had flashed round the village like wildfire when she moved into her own house a fortnight ago after long delays, no wonder the landlord was almost on bended knee to her.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Rosemary backed precipitously out of the lounge bar. ‘Bandits at three o’clock! Let’s go into the public bar, quick, before she sees us.’

  ‘But do you all get along okay?’ Finn had asked Julia when she heard about the gang. ‘It sounds a weird mix, don’t they fight sometimes?’

  ‘Not any more,’ Julia grinned. ‘But we did have to filter out a few oddballs.’

  ****

  The second meeting of the new social group had been held, like the first, in the garden of the pub, a week after the inauguration. This time their numbers were swelled by first two, then a third extra, all elderly women at sight of whom Julia sighed; it would be so nice to have more younger members, she’d never meant it to be a retirement club.

  ‘I like knitting and bingo,’ one of the women said with a sweet smile, placing herself firmly beside Jamie Stuart and gazing up into his startled dark eyes. ‘My husband passed on five years ago and I like to keep myself busy. “Mother,” he told me just before he died, “remember to keep yourself busy.” Will you be having your meetings in the village hall from now on?’

  ‘Er, no …’ Julia found herself deputed to answer this. ‘We thought we would move around a bit, use our own houses, those of us who can take a crowd, go out to dinner, the theatre, that sort of thing.’ Didn’t you read the notice, she thought, it was set out quite clearly.

  ‘Oh dear, no I wouldn’t want that.’ “Mother” spoke with decision, wound up her wool and stashed it into her knitting bag. ‘I can’t have people tracking dirt in. I’ll bid you goodnight.’

  Julia caught Rosemary’s eye and raised her eyebrows, but at that moment the third newcomer lumbered out into the garden, stared round at the assembled company and plonked herself down on a folding chair that buckled under her weight. She cast a considering look at each member of the group then addressed herself to Delia.

  ‘I’ll have a Snowball,’ she announced. ‘Then I’ll see if I want to join your club.’

  Apparently paralysed by surprise Delia obediently trotted off to do her bidding, returning with a large gin of her own to help her over the shock. The stranger inspected the cherry on the cocktail stick, nodded approval and sipped at her drink.

  In the meantime “Mother” had swollen up like a cat with its fur on end. She marched round the tables and hoicked out the remaining newcomer.

  ‘This is no place for us,’ she said dramatically. ‘If you lot are going to be friends with her, you’ll have to do without us.’

  ‘But what was the matter with her?’ Finn was intrigued. ‘She’s not still a member of your lot, is she?’

  ‘No fear!’ Julia shuddered with heartfelt gratitude. ‘But we had a hell of a job getting rid of her. We found out she’d been thrown out of the WI, the Mothers’ Union, the Townswomen’s Guild and everything else like that. She used to be the old doctor’s receptionist, years ago but she’s got a poisonous tongue, which can’t have been an asset in his practice. She told us she wanted whist drives and outings, even though we’d laid it out, right from the start, that we weren’t talking about that kind of club. We all tried, we really did, but it was clear, right from the start, that she wasn’t going to gel. For one thing, we all agreed that we’d use first names, but she told us her name was Mrs Parsons and she wouldn’t budge. People who’ve lived in the village for years, you know – Jonathan and Ursula and Bobbie– were getting very nervous whenever she hove in sight, and Marek had a stand-up row with her. It ended in a draw! In the end Jamie came up with the solution. Somehow or other she let slip that she was eighty-four so he told her, very sweetly and kindly, that he was very sorry but we’d set an upper age limit of seventy-five, which isn’t actually true. I think Delia actually shoved her hand over Marek’s mouth to shut him up when he tried to protest; he’s cagey about his age but he’s certainly older than that, and he thought he was going to be chucked out.’

  Hoping they hadn’t been spotted the newly formed sub-committee scuttled into the public bar and gave their order in a whisper. Under the astonished gaze of the other two, Delia knocked back what looked like a quadruple gin with a solitary bottle of tonic. ‘Now then, this special offer you’ve dug up, Rosemary. There must be some hidden costs? Excursions, you said, and food? Drinks?’

  ‘There aren’t any, honestly,’ Rosemary explained, tucking into her sandwich and mumbling rather thickly. ‘It’s a fantastic deal. Like I said, they’re pushing a new hotel, it only opened last week, so they said they’d give us this reduced price if we booked now.

  ‘It’s ideal for a group like ours, with disparate incomes, I mean. It really is all-inclusive,’ she continued. ‘That means everything, including drink. In fact the only thing you can’t have is alcohol by the bottle. It’s all right,’ she said hastily as Delia pursed her lips ominously, ‘you can have as many glasses as you like, just not a bottle. You could always commandeer a bucket, Delia, and pour the drinks in it.’

  ‘Are you implying that I drink, my dear?’ Deli
a flashed her wolfish grin. ‘Right-oh, that’s the main worry off my mind. Now, what about this idea of booking the holiday? What kind of deposit are they after? Ten per cent?’

  Rosemary nodded, gloomily.

  ‘Cheer up, I’ll divvy up,’ offered Delia casually. ‘No skin off my nose. That old blackguard left me extremely comfortable and I love the idea of spending his money on something he would have hated so bitterly.’

  The other two blinked at this but accepted the offer with gratitude.

  ‘Another thing we need to do,’ said Julia, downing her own modest gin, ‘We must set up a building society account or something similar and pay into it all the available money as a start, then add to it as and when.’

  ‘We’ll need somebody to keep tabs on the cash,’ suggested Rosemary anxiously. ‘Just don’t let it be me; I’m not good at book-keeping.’

  ‘Bobbie might agree to do it,’ put in Julia thoughtfully. ‘I know she’s very diffident about her abilities but I happen to know she ran the accounts for the whole Ramalley Division Guides and Brownies; did it for years. They’re really fed up that she’s given up but she insisted. If she couldn’t be Brown Owl any more she wanted out completely. I think she’d be really chuffed to be asked.’

  The idea was voted a winner by the unofficial sub-committee and then Delia broached a very delicate subject with her usual sledgehammer brand of tact.

  ‘We’d better write in some regulation to cover death,’ she said, waving an imperious hand to the barman who sped over with more iron rations. ‘Well,’ she stared at their astonishment, ‘we’re knocking on, some of us, after all. What happens if somebody pops their clogs before the trip? The whole damn thing would be loused up, wouldn’t it? You’ve been dealing with the travel company, Rosemary, you’d better ask them about group insurance and things. And if it’s a new hotel we don’t want to find our cash going down the drain if the place goes belly-up.’

  Rosemary obediently made a note.

  At that point they were interrupted by Mrs Parsons who pushed her face round the door.

  ‘Have you got round to organising those whist drives and outings yet?’ she asked mildly, then she answered herself. ‘Course you haven’t, too good for that, aren’t you? You just want to catch yourselves a man, that’s all you started it for. Well, you’ll be lucky I tell you, daft old biddies!’

  Delia pursed her lips as the old woman made her exit, laughing loudly at her own wit.

  ‘And what about these three like-minded, congenial people,’ Delia said without further comment. ‘These people who will be happy to fork out more than a grand each for the privilege of spending two weeks in the Caribbean with an assorted bunch of eccentric pensioners – begging Sue and Bobbie’s pardon?’

  ‘You speak for yourself,’ grinned Julia. ‘I must say that until last night I wouldn’t have thought about putting Finn together with Charlie Stuart, but guess what happened?’

  The other two nodded sagely as she repeated Finn’s guarded description of her dinner with Charlie.

  ‘Hmm.’ Delia was sceptical. ‘One swallow does not a summer make – or one dinner a romance. Julia, stop match-making!’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ Julia shrugged defensively. ‘But she’s had a rough time and so has Charlie. I know he can be moody and they got off to a bad start, but there. And he’s so tall …’

  ‘So?’ Rosemary raised her eyebrows. ‘Does that matter so much?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Julia was definite. ‘You wouldn’t know, you’re only little, but believe me, when you’re a really tall woman it’s absolutely wonderful to be towered over by some man – and don’t bother telling me how sexist that is, I don’t care. Oh, to be treated like a delicate little thing!’

  ‘Is that what happened with you then, Julia?’ Delia topped up her glass and leaned forward with interest.

  ‘Sometimes,’ Julia sighed nostalgically. ‘The best lover I ever had was very, very tall – six foot five, in fact.’

  ‘You didn’t feel any urge to make it a permanent relationship?’ Rosemary asked with interest.

  ‘Oh no,’ Julia shook her head. ‘I was forty and a twenty-year age gap isn’t ideal, is it? It was just a holiday fling; he was a lovely Swede I met in Majorca. But oh my, he had the most wonderful body I’ve ever seen in a man and believe me, I’ve seen plenty.’

  ‘Goodness.’ Delia was frankly envious. ‘Unfortunately I only ever slept with one man. It wasn’t an inspirational experience and nobody’s likely to want to have a fling with me now. But he must have been quite something, to have a body like that in his sixties?’

  ‘Who said anything about sixties?’ Julia’s saucy grin should have alerted them.

  ‘Well, come on, Julia,’ argued Rosemary. ‘You just told us you were forty so …’ Her jaw dropped. ‘What? You mean he was only twenty?’

  ‘Seventeen, actually,’ admitted Julia, preening. ‘But don’t you dare let on to Finn, she doesn’t need to know everything.’

  Amused at their scandalised expressions Julia gathered up her jacket and handbag ready to leave.

  ‘Hold on a second,’ commanded Delia craning her elegantly long neck in the direction of the pub door. ‘I think I see a potential member of our merry band. See that chap just going up to the bar? Silver hair, smart cashmere overcoat?’

  Ignoring Rosemary’s dubious ‘How do you know it’s cashmere from this distance?’ Delia hooted and waved until the stranger gave in and came towards them.

  ‘Aha!’ she announced with a terrifying smile. ‘Just the person I wanted to see. Come and sit down with us for a minute or two. Girls, this is Hugh Taylor.’

  Introductions took place and the other two women took stock of Delia’s captive.

  Nice face, thought Rosemary, smiling shyly at him. Nice arse, Julia had noted as he put in his order at the bar.

  ‘Hugh lives in the white house along the Ramalley road,’ explained Delia, patting his hand and making him look even more anxious. ‘Tell the girls about yourself, there’s a good chap.’

  Hugh Taylor looked mutinous for a moment then caught Julia’s eye and gave in with a good grace.

  ‘How much detail do you want, Delia?’ he demanded. ‘Size nine shoes? Collar size fifteen-and-a-half? No? Well then, I’m sixty-four, retired as managing director of the family firm near Swindon two years ago when my wife decided she wanted to move back to her roots in Hampshire.’

  There was an imperceptible sagging in his audience as Julia and Rosemary registered the presence of a wife, while Delia grinned maliciously.

  ‘However, Joan died last year, I’m afraid; she had heart trouble so I’ve been at a bit of a loose end since. I met Delia in the pub and we get together for a drink now and then.’

  ‘How have we never happened to bump into you,’ asked Julia. ‘I know it sounds awful, but we’re always in the pub! It’s the village meeting place, after all.’

  ‘He didn’t specify which pub,’ interrupted Delia. ‘I have a great many watering holes, though this is my particular favourite. No problem about driving here, you see. Now then, Hugh, I’ve mentioned our little group once or twice, how do you feel about coming along to a meeting to test the waters? Now, now,’ as he looked unconvinced. ‘Got to stop all this solitary drinking, you know. It’s all very well for me, got a cast-iron liver, but you need taking out of yourself.’

  She looked around for her belongings.

  ‘Right. You come with me, Julia, got something I want to discuss. You stay here, Rosemary, and entertain Hugh. Don’t let him get pissed; he’s like you, can’t hold his drink. Come along, Julia.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ remonstrated Julia as they emerged on to the sunny village green. ‘Why is Rosemary given a clear field? What about me? He’s rather gorgeous – and available. It ought to be all’s fair in love and war.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Delia was firm. ‘Rosemary needs love and companionship and romance and that’s exactly what Hugh needs. And it’s right what I said, they’re not drink
ers – don’t work hard enough at it. Now you, my girl, you don’t want any of that mush, you’ve got Jamie and – don’t interrupt, I know what you’re going to say – all that’s wrong with you and Jamie is that he needs Dutch courage and a good dose of Viagra. You don’t want romance, whatever you think. What you need, my dear Julia, is sex and lots of it.’

  Chapter 6

  The next few days were action-packed. Rosemary found out about group insurance and had dinner with Hugh. Bobbie burst into floods of tears when the suggestion was put to her that she should become the book-keeper for the group but she mopped herself up and accepted with becoming modesty, already murmuring about double-entry and checking out interest rates on savings accounts.

  Finn and Charlie also went out to dinner again, at a nice-looking pub on the Salisbury road. And for a drink at lunchtime; to the cinema; another drink both lunchtime and evening; and for a brisk walk along the river into town where they shared a pizza before walking home, talking, talking, talking, laughing and squabbling as their friendship deepened. As he counted off the days to Jamie’s removal to the Old Parsonage Charlie became increasingly cheerful and Finn kept catching glimpses of herself in the mirror, smiling. Without a word being spoken she knew that Charlie was looking forward to having an empty house, no inconvenient audience. The memory of Luc – Luc who? – was definitely no longer a problem. What she found interesting was this unusual reticence; unusual for her, at any rate.

  I’m used to jumping into bed straight away with my latest grand passion, she mused over coffee one morning when the shop was bare of customers. I’ve no experience of this. I suppose it’s what they used to call courtship. It’s rather – nice.

  A cautionary note was struck by Hedgehog, of all people.

  ‘You’re gettin’ a bit serious, aren’t you?’ he commented one day as Finn danced into the shop after another blissful lunch with Charlie.

  ‘So?’ She was surprised at his interest; Hedgehog was the least interfering creature she’d ever come across.