One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [91]
I felt weak. Lunged for my wine. Popped another olive in.
‘So how many shops have you got?’
I nearly choked on the stone.
‘One. Just the one shop.’ Had he always been this nosy? ‘Which I share with my partner, Maggie. The one you met in the village, remember? You’ll love her.’ Would he necessarily get to know her? I felt hot. Became garrulous to compensate for nerves. ‘She’s lovely, very outspoken and forthright, and she’s always got a bee in her bonnet about something. At the moment it’s people who let their dogs foul the pavements. She keeps a poop scoop in her bag, scoops it up, then runs after them saying, “I think you forgot something!” ’
‘Quite bold.’
‘Oh, she’s fearless. She’s a bit older than me and she’s convinced HRT is the secret to eternal youth, but her doctor won’t give it to her ’cos she hasn’t got any symptoms, so she’s constantly banging his desk demanding it, claiming she’s having hot flushes and things. The other day she sat in his waiting room bundled up in coats and scarves and when it was her turn, she threw them off and ran in saying, “See? Take my temperature. See how hot I am – phew!” ’
Hal laughed. ‘So did she get it?’
‘No, he won’t budge, so she’s working on the mood swings now. Sunny smiles one minute and murderous rage the next – not hard at our age. Well, her age. She’s a bit older than me, as I said. Ten years, ish.’ Five, in fact, and would she ever forgive me? For telling a complete stranger her most personal details? Easily. Maggie told everyone her most personal details, and was vociferous on this topic: ‘She’s definitely on it,’ she’d hiss as a Joanna Lumley type swept into the shop, or, ‘See the alternative?’ as a Nora Batty type shuffled out.
‘And of course Margaret Thatcher swore by it,’ I rambled on. I couldn’t quite believe I was still running with this. ‘Only needed four hours’ sleep a night.’ Hal was clearing the plates. I got up to help. Why weren’t we tumbling over our words as we had been in Montauroux? Why was this more difficult? No teeming streets, of course, no background chatter. I followed him inside. ‘But as I say, she’s a bit older than me – Maggie, I mean. My Maggie, not Maggie Thatcher. Well, Maggie Thatcher is too, obviously. She must be—Oh.’ Happily I was stopped in my tracks. ‘Is that Céline?’
I’d been passing a walnut sofa table at the time, crowded with photographs. The largest of them was of Hal, sitting on some lichen-covered steps, his arm around the shoulders of a girl of such astonishing beauty, it fairly took my breath away. A relief all round, I should think.
Hal glanced over but carried on walking, plates in hand. ‘Yes, a friend took it last summer.’
I stared. Couldn’t help it. She was gorgeous. Long, silky dark hair swept back off a heart-shaped face, leaf-shaped eyes, full lips. She was laughing into the camera.
‘How old is she. Hal?’
‘Thirty-two.’
Right. Seven years younger than me. Him too, of course, which was fine for men, quite usual. But perhaps not so usual the other way round. I might keep quiet about that.
‘And Ivan?’ he asked as I joined him in the kitchen. I nearly dropped the plates.
‘How d’you know about Ivan?’
‘Letty mentioned that your sister had said something.’
‘Oh! How news travels.’
He shot me a sympathetic look. ‘Well, you know how it is. If you’re single and over thirty, family and friends see it as their positive mission to help you settle down.’
‘They do rather, don’t they?’ It was nice to hear it from another single, albeit affianced, one. ‘They’re so flaming smug,’ I added, slightly more fiercely.
He grinned. ‘Marriage is the Holy Grail, as far as they’re concerned. So if Hattie’s got a young man…’ He wiggled his eyebrows knowingly at me. I laughed.
‘Yes, all right, he is young. A bit younger than me.’ I left it at that. To be honest I didn’t actually know how old Ivan was. Hadn’t asked. In case it was horrific. And