Page 72 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘So what happened?’ I asked.
‘She found out six months later he’d been run over. In the high street. He wasn’t badly hurt, just a mild concussion and a bruised knee. But someone said they thought he had joined another team in Chichester. And apparently he had left his thermos in his locker at the bowls club, and some cheese sandwiches. By the time they opened it she said it looked like Day of the Triffids in there.’
‘That’s not quite the same thing,’ Anita said reasonably. ‘He might have had amnesia.’
‘No, Pauline said he had a wife,anda lady friend in West Wittering.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ I said, ‘let’s talk about something else. I’m a bit hurt, but it’ll pass.’
Beryl leaned over and patted my arm consolingly.
‘Of course it will pass. It might pass like a kidney stone, which I’ve heard can be very unpleasant, but you’ll be fine. I have to admit, I’m surprised though. Now then, I was thinking of ordering some drinks from Costas. What do you think?’
‘Is that wise? We have to be out of our rooms by ten thirty tomorrow,’ Anita said.
‘As Scarlett O’Hara was so fond of saying, tomorrow is another day,’ Effie said, waving to attract Costas’s attention, ‘and the plane doesn’t leave until the afternoon.’
Costas had been peacefully sitting behind the bar reading his newspaper. He came over with a white cloth draped over one arm and a tray in his hand.
‘Ladies?’ he said with a broad smile.
‘Costas! I hardly recognised you with your clothes on. Do you think we could have a bottle of white wine and four glasses?’ Effie said sweetly.
He gave a little bow and ambled off back to the bar, where we could hear him crashing about for a few minutes.
‘He’s in a good mood for once,’ I said.
‘I expect he’s hoping we will leave him a nice tip,’ Beryl hissed. ‘He was just the same last time I was here. Jillian too.’
‘And how much are we expected to leave?’ I asked.
Beryl shrugged. ‘It’s entirely up to you.’
‘I’ve got a good tip for her,’ Effie said. ‘Bees Knees in the two thirty race at Doncaster.’
‘I think she’s lonely,’ I said, ‘and this place, organising groups like ours, is all she has. Which is a bit sad, isn’t it?’
* * *
I enjoyed our last evening together. We had a pleasant meal at the taverna down the street and while we were enjoying coffee and a last glass of Metaxa, Dennis stood up to say a few words, telling us how much he had enjoyed the week and thanking Jillian for organising everything and also commiserating like a teacher’s pet, with her efforts to control us.
Then Jillian stood up, blushing and almost tearful, and thanked us all for being such a fun group and how much she would miss us. I don’t think anyone really believed her, but it was a nice gesture.
‘Now then,’ she said, pulling out a folder from her capacious bag, ‘down to business. This is, after all, the awards evening.’
There was a murmur of excitement then, and Dennis sat up very straight and tried to look modest.
‘I’d like to thank my mother, my agent, all my fans and the whole team at Universal Studios,’ Beryl murmured. Effie giggled and gave her a nudge.
‘So, I have certificates of attendance for you all. And some of them have additional comments,’ Jillian continued. ‘The standard this week has been high, with a great many really accomplished pieces?—’
‘It won’t be me then. I only drew Costas’s foot and some flowers,’ I murmured.
‘Or me,’ June hissed back, ‘but I have nearly finished knitting Nigel’s jumper.’
‘—but without a doubt, the artist of the week – and this is only my opinion – is Dennis.’
Dennis stood up smiling broadly and went to accept his certificate with as much pride as he would have accepted an Oscar. He decided to give another speech in honour of the occasion.
