Page 14 of The Black Trilogy

“Something like that. I’m glad I scraped my house key along his Mercedes on my way down the driveway.”

Carol clapped her hands with glee. “Did you do anything else?”

“No, that was it, but the scratch went from the bumper to the boot.”

Ashlyn was pretty tame. If these events had been real, darling Jamie would have been fighting for his release from prison in a country that paid lip service to human rights.

Carol tilted her head to one side, but her tight grey curls didn’t move. “You say you came from America, but why do you have an English accent?”

“Because I grew up in London. I moved to the States to be with Jamie when I was twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one? Golly, you were together a long time then.”

“A third of my life: wasted.” I gave a convincing groan. “It took him eight years to propose. That alone should have told me something, right? I think he only gave me a ring because I talked about getting a job. He obviously figured that if I was his wife, I’d be back under his thumb, and I fell for it. I’m an idiot.”

“They say love is blind. You’re not the only woman to have the wool pulled over her eyes by a man thinking with his little head instead of his big one.”

Oh, Carol. What would a normal girl do right now? Giggle. So I giggled.

“I know, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Well, we’ll just have to take your mind off things. Keep you busy. That’s what worked best for me after I lost my Len. We were married for forty years.”

Forty years, and she still talked fondly of him. I felt a pang of jealousy. If my husband had lived, would we have lasted four decades? I liked to think so.

“I’m so sorry, Carol. Losing Len must have been far worse than what happened to me.”

In fact, it was closer to the truth than I cared to admit.

“It happened almost ten years ago now, dear. Time’s the greatest healer, but my friends were a huge help too. At first, I didn’t know how to go on without him, but now I can look back and smile at the good times. Nobody will ever replace Len, but I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to sit around moping, so I’ve filled my life with other things.”

Her look turned wistful, and I knew she was thinking of her late husband. I couldn’t help thinking of mine too. Was there life after death? I’d never believed in it, but now I wondered. Was he up there, willing me to get my act together? I hoped Carol was right and time would heal my cracks, because I didn’t see what else would help. I gave a sniff, a genuine one this time, and Carol snapped her eyes back to mine.

“Enough about me,” she said. “We need to get you back on your feet. Tomorrow I have a fundraising lunch for church and then bingo at the village hall in the evening. You can come to those. It’ll do you good.”

Was she serious? Seniors’ bingo and a church fundraiser? Apart from the funeral, my last visit to a place of worship had involved a sting operation on a pastor who liked the younger members of his congregation a little too much.

And by lunch, did Carol mean making it or eating it? I could manage the eating part, but cooking had never been my strong suit.

“It’s ever so nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. It’ll be terrific fun.”

Well, if she said so. In my current state, I didn’t have the energy to argue with the force that was Carol. Tagging along seemed like the easier option.

“Another custard cream, dear?”

A white-haired lady held out a plate with one hand while pushing her glasses back up her nose with the other.

“I’ve already had six, thanks.”

I felt hideously out of place at the church lunch, firstly because I was the only person not wearing chintz, and secondly because I was the youngest by at least three decades. The way everyone stared at me, I could have been a zoo exhibit.

Maybe I should’ve invested in a plaque to save answering endless questions.

Name: Ashlyn Hale

Species: Barely human

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