“He is not her man,” Tamara stormed. “He’s mine.” She struggled (unsuccessfully) against Rick’s hold on her with her glare steadfastly aimed at Sibyl. “I waited years for him to notice me. Years! And when he finally did, it took me ages to get him where I wanted him. I was so close, so damned close. I worked so hard and then you stroll in and he instantly forgot me. It was like I never even existed!”
“I wish I could forget her but I don’t think I ever will,” Tina mumbled.
Tamara kept ranting. “I kept warning you, I shot your dog, tore up your house, made threatening phone calls. But you just would… not… go… away!”
“Of course she wouldn’t just go away,” Gilbert put in at this juncture. “They’re supposed to be together. Don’t you read the papers?”
“You shot her dog?” Mrs. Griffith’s eyes had narrowed ominously at the very idea of anyone hurting an animal.
“He was okay, Mrs. Griffith,” Sibyl assured the older lady quickly before her cane had a chance to be put back into action.
“Enough,” Rick growled, his patience at an end. He dragged Tamara without apparent effort kicking and spitting down the length of the Day Centre. Without another word, he threw Tamara into Sibyl’s office, followed her and slammed the door.
Everyone stared at the door for several moments and then jumped when they heard Mags.
“Well! I guess that’s that,” Mags stated with a sliding clap as if she was cleaning off her hands after a messy task even though she hadn’t done a thing. Then, as if they had all not just witnessed something entirely out of the ordinary, she suggested, “Let’s get these carrier bags sorted,” and she bustled forward with Phoebe to help the oldies claim their bags.
Marian did not go to help Mags, Phoebe and the oldies. Instead, she placed her hand on Sibyl’s forearm and peered closely into the younger woman’s eyes, “Are you all right, dear?”
Sibyl turned dazedly to Marian.
“I think so,” she whispered and then continued incredulously, “Did you see that?” Her eyes cleared and they were shining brightly. “The dart didn’t even touch me just…” She made a loud “ping” noise, combining it with a quick slap of her fingers against her thumbs and an endearing blink and then she carried on, “like I was encased in invisible armour. Marian, you are the greatest witch ever! I cannot believe it’s all over!”
Sibyl pulled Marian to her for a fierce hug and kissed her cheek.
“I can’t wait to tell Colin,” she enthused and then her attention was turned and she needed to rush forward to mediate the carrier bag organisation as it appeared to be becoming somewhat confused with the situation escalating rapidly as oldies confusedly claimed other oldie’s bags or, at least, what the others thought were their bags.
* * * * *
Marian watched as Sibyl, her mother and Colin’s mother sorted out Sibyl’s charges.
That was too easy, she thought as she heard the police sirens approaching The Centre.
Something wasn’t right, Marian knew, she would have sensed the dark soul in the young woman the moment she met her the night Sibyl and Colin started their challenging journey.
Marian felt a sense of disquiet, knowing, somehow, it was not over.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Byrne?” Tina asked her, still standing quietly at Marian’s side, wisely choosing not to enter what had now become a carrier bag melee.
“Yes, dear, fine,” Marian answered distractedly but Tina kept watching her, not believing a word she said.
* * * * *
Colin sat at the head of the dining room table. He had pushed his chair back with a slight tilt to the left, put an ankle on his opposite knee and he was now resting his elbows against his abdomen, his fingers linked and his chin resting thoughtfully against them. The dishes carrying the remains of his mother’s heavy treacle pudding with custard littered the tabletop.
Sibyl sat to his left, her bowl pushed forward, her forearms bent at the elbows and resting on the edge of the table, her head on them. Her face was hidden from view, buried in her arms and her hair, partially (but not competently) held up in a clip, fell all over her shoulders and down her back.
And those shoulders were shaking uncontrollably with hilarity.
Phoebe and Mags sat opposite her, his mother’s whole body was bouncing up and down in her chair with the force of her uncontained laughter.
Marian, Colin noted with interest, sat next to Sibyl and her face was oddly blank.
“And then, Gilbert dropped to his knees, although I wouldn’t call it a ‘drop’ so much as a ‘cautious descent’. Then he… he…” Although Colin had heard it earlier from Rick, Mags was relating the story about what happened at the Day Centre and found, not for the first time, she could no longer continue as her cackling got the better of her. These last words sent both Phoebe and Sibyl into fresh shouts of laughter.
Although all three women thought this was the height of entertainment, Colin did not find it the least bit amusing. In fact, he found it supremely annoying, not their amusement but that afternoon’s escapade.
His eyes slid to Marian who, feeling his gaze, moved hers to him. She shook her head and offered him a weak smile.