Page 81 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘What are we talking about?’ Effie said. ‘Have I missed anything?’
‘For goodness’ sake!’ I said, trying not to laugh.
‘Cassandra passed her a secret note, and I want to know what it was.’
‘I want to know too,’ Anita said, ‘we all do, and there’s no use just telling Beryl. It’s part of the Old Ducks creed. Two people can keep a secret only if one of them is dead.’
I sighed. ‘Cassandra had a phone call from someone looking for the Lower Begley painting group asking her to pass on a mobile number to me. Which is what she did. From a Mr Mole.’
‘Mr Mole? Oh, I remember, that discussion we had about mole wrenches. Will, it has to be him,’ Beryl said, her face brightening. ‘We told you he wouldn’t just disappear.’
‘You told me he would pass like a kidney stone,’ I said.
Gwen stopped collecting coffee mugs and gave us the benefit of her wisdom.
‘Kidney stone? They can be nasty. My aunt had a kidney stone. She had a terrible time and then the hospital said they were going to use a Taser on her and she was terribly worried, because that’s the thing the police use when there are riots, isn’t it, but apparently it was a laser.’
Beryl flapped a hand at me.
‘Nonsense, I’m sure I didn’t say that. So what are you going to do?’
‘She’s going to ring him, obviously,’ Effie said, ‘and then they can arrange to meet up. What about that new wine bar near the reservoir? You know the place, years ago it used to be a water treatment plant and then it was turned into a conference centre and then a boutique hotel. Nice views over the water but someone told me they had terrible problems with the septic tank.’
‘So hardly an ideal destination?’ I said.
Anita nodded vigorously. ‘Or you could try the place up by the castle? It used to be the Kings Head and then it was renovated and it’s now the Dog and Bonnet. Will could be the Dog and you could wear… No, perhaps not. I remember the old landlord, Cyril somebody, who was the most miserable, bad-tempered man you could ever meet. He once threw out some customers who asked for clean cutlery. But I’ve heard it’s very nice in there now. They do exotic, spicy nibbles.’
‘Exotic. Spicy.Nibbles. Ideal, I bet both of them could do with that.’ Beryl chuckled.
‘Will you stop it! I’ll be nervous enough as it is without you lot adding innuendo.’
‘And you can find out why he left in such a marked manner,’ Effie said, ‘and then you can tell us.’
* * *
Anita and I walked home through the drizzle and after promising her that I would indeed ring Mr Mole, she left me to it.
First I made a sandwich, this time feta cheese and salad, and then I sorted out some laundry and cleared away the scattering of bird feathers which Ivan had left in the hall while I was out.
‘So? Where is the rest of the bird, you horrible cat?’ I asked him as he wedged himself through the cat flap. He ignored me and went to have a noisy drink of water.
‘If you have taken it upstairs and left it under my bed, I will be very annoyed,’ I said.
Ivan jumped up onto the draining board and swiftly knocked a teaspoon onto the floor.
‘Will said he liked the sound of you,’ I said, picking the cat up and depositing him on the floor, ‘but then he doesn’t know you.’
This of course reminded me of Will and the phone number and the expectations that I would ring him. Would I? At that moment I wasn’t sure.
I put the Post-it note on the windowsill and weighted down one edge with the pepper mill. Then I went to get the ironing basket which was full of my clean holiday clothes. When I got back, Ivan was on the draining board again, patting at the Post-it note with one paw. And then he knocked the pepper mill over so that it fell into the sink, the lid flew off and all the peppercorns fell out.
‘For heaven’s sake, Ivan, what is the matter with you?’ I shouted.
Ivan retreated to a safe distance on top of the fridge and watched me balefully. And then he jumped down and went back out through the cat flap, his back legs flailing.
I got on with the ironing, happily watching more of the glamorous detective scuttling around an abandoned warehouse in the Bronx, looking for criminals, and then I had another cup of tea and a biscuit. All the time, my eye was drawn back to the pink Post-it note on the windowsill.
I should ring Will. I had run out of reasons not to. I emptied the dishwasher and cleared some coffee rings off the worktop and wiped it down. Will had liked clearing things away too; he’d said so. I wondered what he was doing this morning.
