jewelled hands prettily into the party atmosphere that had naturally ensued – flooded in, more like, when given the chance. Angus was already florid and booming; Luke had his hand on Sue’s arm as he told an anecdote, just emphasizing a point, but still; and the volume was high. ‘Um, everyone! Listen up! Hope’s made a marvellous suggestion for next week. We’re going to read Ulysses, which is a lovely book, apparently. I’m sure you’ll all adore it. It’s by –’ Angie turned to Hope expectantly.
Hope looked startled then collected herself. ‘Oh, OK. James Joyce.’
‘James Joyce, and it’s about …’ Angie tinkled, cocking her head to one side, liking this double act.
‘Well, not so much about anything as a stream of consciousness. One day in the life of. I guess if it does have a central theme it’s … well, it’s –’ Hope puckered her pretty brow; looked momentarily flummoxed.
‘It’s about death,’ Peggy interjected softly, from over by the window.
We all turned to look at her. Her face, in profile to us, was sad and mournful. She blew a thin blue line of cigarette smoke at the pane of glass and thence to the darkened fields beyond.
15
‘Saintly Sue and Luke seemed to be getting on rather well last night, didn’t they?’ Jennie said casually.
I was on my way back from the shop. Jennie was on her hands and knees in her front garden, messing around with a trowel, the second time I’d found her thus in two weeks. Generally she expressed the opinion that plastic flowers were the way forward, so authentic were they nowadays, and soil-tilling just another extension of a housewife’s shackles, only we got to rattle them in the fresh air.
I paused at her gate. ‘Yes, they did, didn’t they?’
‘You don’t mind?’ She straightened up anxiously.
‘Not in the least.’
I didn’t, really. Well, OK, I might have been a bit piqued that he’d spent so much time flirting and amusing her, but no more than that. ‘I’m seeing him on Tuesday, anyway,’ I assured her. I hated disappointing my friends.
‘Are you?’ She brightened, as I knew she would. ‘Oh, good. Oh, I am pleased.’
‘You sound like someone’s mother, Jennie.’
‘I am someone’s mother.’
‘Yes, but not mine.’ I smiled.
‘Fair comment.’ She paused. ‘Probably just humouring Sue last night, then?’
‘Most probably,’ I conceded, although privately I thought the giggling I’d heard behind the azalea bush in Angie’s front garden as I’d left the party might have been more than humouring.
‘Simon was on good form,’ I said conversationally, but not without a parrying thrust. A touch of touché.
‘Yes, he was, wasn’t he?’ she said lightly. ‘Although not with me.’
‘He was busy catching up with the Armitages, Jennie,’ I said, instantly regretting the parry.
‘You don’t have to placate me, Poppy. I’m married, remember? I’ve got my Toad.’ She grinned. ‘My life is complete. You’re the one that needs a man.’
She knelt and resumed her digging, humming to herself, which she didn’t do. I mean, years ago we all did; sing, even, but not recently. There was a strange contentment to her too, as she chivvied those weeds, which was as alien as the horticulture. I went distractedly up my path with the children. Something about Jennie and Simon’s behaviour last night had alerted me; the way they rather pointedly didn’t linger in each other’s company. It was as if, in private time, some modus operandi had been arrived at. As if they were beyond seeking each another out at a party and having tongues wag. Had some decision been made, I wondered nervously? I wasn’t sure. One thing I did know, though, was that the more I encountered Simon, the more I liked him. We’d had a good chat at Angie’s, and amongst other things he’d said how outrageous it was that the bus route from the village was in danger, and that for some old people it was their only independent way into town; they didn’t want to rely on lifts. Said it was the first thing he was going to tackle if he was elected, that and the threatened closure of the post office, which he was tackling anyway, elected or not. He was taking a petition round all the villages affected. Yes, a decent man. A sensible one too. Which Dan wasn’t always, I thought uncomfortably.
‘Where are you going, anyway?’ I heard her voice as I put my key in my door.
I turned. ‘Inside.’
‘No, with Luke?’
‘Oh. The King’s Head.’
Jennie looked astonished. Then delighted. She sat back on her heels on