Jag. We can’t stand bloody trains anyway.’
‘We?’ said Pru.
‘Arthur hates them too.’
Chapter 16
Pru was in the pool when Dulcie saw the latest notice up on the noticeboard, announcing the appointment of Brunton Manor’s new tennis pro.
Dulcie’s eyes flickered incredulously from the written announcement to the photograph pinned beneath it, of a blond male in tennis whites being presented with a trophy the size of a fridge.
Her heart went kerplunk. Ignoring the receptionist’s indignant squawk of protest, Dulcie grabbed the photo, clutched it to her chest and raced all the way to the pool. Everyone who saw her stopped and stared; Dulcie had never been known to run before. Whatever next, sit-ups?
Pru was instantly recognisable in her daffodil-yellow swimming hat. Her head bobbed up and down as she doggy-paddled her way laboriously up to the shallow end, completing her sixteenth length. The hat was a must for Pru. If she didn’t wear one, her hair would plaster itself to her head leaving her ears on show to the world. This way her long hair stayed dry. In fact, as Dulcie had once innocently pointed out, the yellow rubber cap flattened her ears so nicely, it was a shame she couldn’t wear it all the time.
Personally, Dulcie wondered why Pru persisted with this swimming malarkey, especially when she was so bad at it. All swimming did, as far as Dulcie was concerned, was wear you out and totally wreck your make-up.
She crouched at the edge of the pool, waiting for Pru to reach her. It was no good yelling, trying to hurry her up; the hat wasn’t only a jolly efficient ear-flattener. When it was on, Pru couldn’t hear a thing.
‘What?’ said Pru, hanging on to the side and blinking chlorinated water out of her stinging, pink-rimmed eyes. She peered up at the photograph Dulcie was dangling in front of her nose.
‘It’s you-know-who,’ said Dulcie triumphantly.
Pru peeled the edge of the yellow cap cautiously upwards, just enough to be able to hear but not enough to let her ear spring out.
‘What?’
‘You-know-who,’ repeated Dulcie, her voice loaded with meaning. ‘Come on, think back a bit.
New Year’s Eve, Pru! New Year’s resolutions.’
Pru looked blank.
‘I give up. Is it someone Liza might want to marry?’ Sometimes Dulcie despaired of Pru.
Honestly, if this was what swimming did to your brain.
‘I’m talking about my resolutions,’ she said impatiently. ‘The ones I wrote when I was fifteen, remember? Do more homework, keep room tidy, all that guff?’
Pru remembered.
‘Join the Starsky and Hutch fan club.’ She brightened. ‘I forgot to ask, did you ever join? I liked Starsky best. Didn’t you think he looked sexy in that wrap-around cardigan?’
‘I preferred Hutch. He was gorgeous. Nobody fancied Starsky.’ Dulcie was full of scorn.
Seriously, was it any wonder Pru’s marriage had failed? She’d always had diabolical taste in men.
Pru peered more closely at the photograph. The chap was blond and tanned, but .. .
‘Dulcie, that isn’t David Soul.’
‘Give me strength,’ sighed Dulcie. ‘Did I say it was? Now listen to me. One of my resolutions was to snog you- knowwho.You said who was he and I said I didn’t have a clue. Right? With me so far?’
Cautiously, Pru nodded.
‘Well, this is him. This is you-know-who.’ Dulcie broke into an uncontrollable grin. She still couldn’t believe it herself. It was the fabbest thing to happen since Pop Tarts.
Pru looked up at Dulcie, still clutching the photo lovingly like a teenager. She didn’t know who you-know-who was, but he must be famous for Dulcie to have had a crush on him for so long. A rock star or something. A tennis-playing rock star like Cliff Richard.
‘And you’ve joined his fan club?’ said Pru. It sounded a bit of an immature thing to do but ...
well, this was a free country...
Gazing down at her, Dulcie decided they were both in need of a stiff drink.
‘I haven’t joined his fan club,’ she told Pru. ‘He’s about to join mine.’
‘Remember how I always used to moan about our family holidays,’ said Dulcie when Pru emerged from the changing rooms at last and joined her in the bar.
‘In South Wales? Tenby, wasn’t it?’
Dulcie nodded. ‘Bloody yacht club. Talk about mental cruelty. I should have sued my parents for dragging me along with them every summer. All day, every day, out in that sodding boat of theirs—’
‘Maybe that’s what put you off swimming,’ Pru suggested. ‘You’re just generally anti-water.’
‘Anyway, when I was fifteen we stayed in our usual cottage and a group of boys were renting the place next door. There were four of them and I fell in love with the best-looking one—’
‘Fell in love?’
‘Figure of speech,’ said Dulcie. ‘Had a crush on. Fancied like mad. His name was Liam and he was seventeen. I was sure he fancied me back but you know what boys are like when they’re with their mates. We chatted on the beach a few times.
