The cloakroom door had opened behind her. Dulcie just had time to watch with pleasure as bright spots of colourappeared in Imelda’s cheeks – so he did! – before a hand clutched her arm.
‘Dulcie, there you are! Quick, they’re about to cut the cake!’
‘Thanks,’ muttered Dulcie when they were safely out of the cloakroom.
‘My pleasure.’ Claire Berenger’s grey eyes sparkled. ‘Not that you looked as if you needed rescuing, but I thought it might be a good moment to leave.’
Awkwardly, wishing she wasn’t so nice, Dulcie returned her smile.
‘I’m glad you did. Are they really cutting the cake?’
‘No. And I’m still dying for a pee. Come on, let’s find another loo,’ Claire said companionably,
‘then we’ll get ourselves a drink.’
In a daze of happiness, Pru watched the guests milling around her. Eddie’s mother-in-law, Edna Peverell, had been too frail to leave the nursing home but upon hearing about the wedding, and with characteristic bluntness, her irascible fellow resident Marjorie Hickman had announced to Eddie on his next visit to Elmlea that she would be delighted to come instead.
‘Told you he fancied you,’ she had announced, waving her walking stick at Pru as she hobbled into the ballroom, resplendent in an emerald-green ruffled blouse and ankle-length tweed skirt.
‘Said he’d got the hots for you, didn’t I? Good grief, child, what’s happened to your ears? When did you get those done?’
Pru, who was wearing her hair up, started to laugh. ‘What is the old bird on about?’ hissed Eddie, perplexed. Pru shrugged.
‘I’m wearing earrings. Maybe she thinks I’ve had them pierced.’
‘And if you’ve got any more of those saucy books,’ Marjorie declared in a loud voice, ‘bring ‘em with you on your next visit.’
‘Doolally,’ Eddie murmured to Pru. ‘Totally shot away.’ Pru smiled to herself now as she watched Marjorie stuffing asparagus rolls from the buffet into her handbag. She saw Eddie make his way over and whisper something in her ear, and knew he was telling her she could take as much food as she liked back to Elmlea, he had already instructed the staff to make up a box.
Marjorie looked miffed; being given a food parcel wasn’t half so much fun as squirrelling it away in her bag. Glancing across at Pru, Eddie rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gave up.
I’ve just married the kindest, sweetest man in the world, thought Pru. Blanche was right; I have done all right for myself.
Pru had bumped into her last week. She had been loading the wedding cake into the back of the Jag when Blanche had emerged from the Sue Ryder shop. She was wearing skin-tight jeans and yellow stilettos and her hair was even blonder than Pru remembered.
‘Oh ... hello.’ Blanche was only momentarily taken aback. For something to say, she had held up one of her carrier bags. ‘I’ve just bought a pair of leggings for fifty pee.’
Pru recognised the pretty gold chain around her neck as one that had gone missing a year ago.
When Phil had come home to find her sifting through the contents of the Hoover bag he had said,
‘You’re useless, Pru. What’s the point of buying you nice things if all you’re going to do is lose them?’
Blanche had taken her husband but she wouldn’t have taken the chain. Pru knew Phil must have given it to her. She made sure the box containing the wedding cake was wedged securely in the boot of the car and straightened up.
‘Blanche, how are you?’
Blanche half smiled. ‘Oh, we’re fine. Got your divorce, then. Just in time from the sound of things. Phil says you’re getting married on Saturday.’
The decree absolute had come through the week before. As she stared at the all-important piece of paper, Pru had marvelled at her own lack of emotion. It was the weirdest thing,but she could barely remember how it had felt, being married to Phil.
Now, gazing at the carrier bag Blanche was holding, she recognised the distinctive label of a can of Heinz tomato soup, just visible through the thin plastic. The memories came flooding back, accompanied by a blissful sensation of release, because it wasn’t her problem any more.
Blanche, meanwhile, was admiring Eddie’s gleaming topof-the range Jag.
‘Nice car. Got a bit of money, this fellow, has he?’ Pru shrugged. Then she nodded.
Blanche looked envious. ‘You’ve done all right for yourself, then.’
‘Yes, I have,’ said Pru, simply. Silently she added, but not in the way you mean.
‘What happened to the job?’ said Patrick. ‘I called into that cafe a couple of weeks ago and the waitress said you weren’t working there any more.’
Dulcie wondered if he had gone along to snigger, as Liam and Imelda had done.
‘Too much like hard work,’ she replied flippantly. ‘I broke a fingernail.’
As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Patrick was exchanging a ‘see-what-I-mean?’
look with Claire.
‘Actually,’ said Dulcie, ‘I left because the owner developed a crush on me. It got a bit embarrassing.’
She could tell he didn’t believe her.
‘I don’t blame you for giving it up.’ Claire’s tone was consoling. ‘I worked in a restaurant when I was at college. Jolly hard graft.’
