Page 15 of The Black Trilogy

Habitat: Found on every continent, usually in a hostile environment.

Traits: Excellent hunter, adopts camouflage when threatened. Thought processes can be unexpected.

After four cups of tea, two trips to the toilet, and the aforementioned biscuits, I was grateful to escape to the kitchen. Please, someone give me a sharp knife.

“Can you make the shortcrust pastry?” a lady with a purple rinse asked.

I stared blankly at her. Didn’t pastry come frozen in packets?

“You don’t know how to do pastry?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, can you help chop the vegetables?”

Oh yes, I could do that. Playing with knives was a particular skill of mine. I forced myself to slow down, but I still sliced three cucumbers perfectly in under two minutes, avoiding the temptation to close my eyes while I did so. Didn’t want to scare the old dudes.

Lunch took the entire afternoon, and afterwards, most of the people present went straight from the church hall to the village hall for bingo. I’d expected a subdued affair, but I’d underestimated this crowd.

The alcohol flowed, and one old gent produced a couple of bottles of home-brew. I had no idea what was in it, but from the way it burned my throat it had to be 160 proof. I practically had to carry Carol when we left.

“Don’t forget your raffle prizes,” one of her friends said.

I’d tried to leave them behind on purpose, but now I pasted on a smile.

“How very remiss of me.”

I tucked my toiletry basket and Carol’s fruit cake under the other arm, and Carol wrinkled her nose.

“Mildred Armitage made that. Her cakes are always far too dry.”

I caught Mildred watching us from over her beak-like nose. “Sorry, but we’d better take it back with us. You can use it as a doorstop.”

I thought after that evening I’d earn a reprieve from more socialising, but no such luck.

“The tea dance is today at three,” Carol told me over breakfast the next morning.

I stifled a groan. Where did Carol get the energy? I hadn’t slept well, and the last thing I wanted was to go out again.

“I’ll have to pass.”

“You have something else on?”

“I fancy some time on my own.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. Sitting alone won’t help matters.” She snapped her fingers. “Vera mentioned yesterday that her son’s looking for a nice young lady. I’ll invite him over to keep you company.”

Spend the evening with a random bloke? No thanks. I went to the tea dance.

Between eating cakes and the endless cuppas, I gained a few new friends by taking some of the old boys for a spin—well, more of a shuffle—around the dance floor. I’d been a bit concerned about their artificial hips and the like, but Carol insisted it would be okay.

“Are their hearts up to this?” I asked.

“If they’re not, at least they’ll die happy.”

My husband had taught me to ballroom dance soon after we met, insisting it was a useful skill for undercover work at posh functions. I’d grown to love it, and even though he pretended it was a chore, I knew he’d secretly enjoyed it too. And boy, could he move. He’d had a particularly dirty tango in him, but we’d reserved that for the privacy of our own home.

Those memories overshadowed the evening, because now we’d never dance again.

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