her eyelids at him. ‘Must do an awful lot of hammering.’
This remark hung rather pregnantly in the air. Pete blushed and looked at the floor. Sue cleared her throat impatiently.
‘Peggy? What d’you think?’
‘Of what?’ She turned.
‘Of the book, of course.’
Peggy glanced down at the tome she appeared to be holding. ‘Oh. Oh, no. Far too long. We’ll never get through that. I should think Pete here’s the only one who can lift it!’
She passed it to him, mock staggering under its weight, and he laughed, agreeing in flat northern tones that aye, it was terribly heavy. Angie rolled her eyes despairingly at me.
‘What about something a bit lighter to kick off with?’ suggested Jennie sensibly. ‘It does look a trifle ambitious, Sue, although I’m sure it’s very good,’ she added in a placatory manner.
‘It’s first class,’ Sue said pompously. ‘You’ve read it, haven’t you, Luke?’
‘Er, started it,’ Luke said sheepishly.
‘Well, if you’ve already read it, Sue, that’s cheating,’ Angie said sharply.
Sue looked stung. ‘It’s not a competition,’ she told her acidly.
‘Exactly,’ retorted Angie. ‘Which means no one should have a head start.’
They glared at one another.
‘Anyway,’ interjected Angus apeasingly before things really degenerated, ‘something a bit lighter might be more the ticket. I agree with Jennie.’ He smoothed back his silvery locks and leaned forward eagerly, resting the leather elbows of his tweed jacket on his knees. ‘I thought Poppy here said we were going to do Robert Harris. Eh? Splendid!’
‘Did you, Poppy?’ Jennie turned in surprise.
‘Oh, well, I just …’
‘It’s not a bad idea,’ said Simon, easing smoothly into his diplomatic, prospective MP role. ‘I, for one, love Harris. How about we all read his latest?’
‘I’ve got it right here!’ boomed Angus delightedly, producing it from under his chair like a magician. ‘Went to Waterstones specially.’ He passed it around, and as it progressed the rest of us looked enormously cheered. The accessible cover and the thought of a rollicking good thriller at bedtime, not some heart-sink intellectual tome, were most satisfactory. Pete, still pink from talking so much in public, agreed it looked terrific, action-packed and just the sort of thing he was dying to have a go at but never knew which one to choose; Luke said it was the only one he hadn’t read and assured Pete that once he’d read one he’d read the lot; and Angie, Jennie and I agreed that whilst we read a lot of Aga sagas and chick lit, we never read the he-man stuff and were keen to have a go. Only Sue looked as if she’d sucked a lemon.
‘Popular fiction,’ she sniffed, as the book made its way round to her. She regarded it distastefully. ‘I thought we were going to do something a bit more thought-provoking?’
‘It’s only popular because it’s good,’ Jennie pointed out. ‘If it didn’t work, no one would buy it.’
‘The Beatles were popular,’ Angie reminded her. ‘And they were completely brilliant.’
‘Yes, but they were easy listening,’ insisted Sue. ‘Just as this is easy reading.’
We all fell silent; slightly shamed.
‘Does it have to be difficult to be good?’ I asked, miles away, actually. I’d been wondering if Luke had a ghastly mother and sister; I couldn’t cope with that again. In-laws were so important.
‘No, it has to be difficult to be exclusive,’ said Peggy with a small smile. There was another silence.
‘So.’ Angus stood up, rubbing his hands. ‘That’s all settled, then. Splendid. I’ll pop into town and get another eight books and post them all through your letter boxes tomorrow. Now, Peggy, what about opening that other bottle of wine? It’s like the Gobi Desert in here!’
Everyone got to their feet. Angie and I passed around smoked-salmon nibbles and the wine flowed, the noise level growing as people chatted, relieved the rather formal part of the evening was over. Indeed, before long, a veritable drinks party had ensued and even Sue looked slightly mollified, especially since Simon was chatting politely to her; but then Sue’s family – aside from the Jardines – were the grandees of the village, Sue’s father being a local judge, and Simon did need an awful lot of pukka support to ensure selection.
‘But will you live in the village?’ Sue was asking him earnestly.
‘My family lives in Wessington.’
