Clearly still shaken by her own bravery, Pru went with her to the front door.
Left alone at the kitchen table, Dulcie heard them murmuring together in the hall. Ah well, she was getting used to it.
She stubbed out the cigarette she’d forgotten to smoke in all the excitement, and refilled her almost empty glass.
Straining to overhear, Dulcie managed to make out Liza’s words: ‘No, no, I’m fine. Kit’s waiting at home for me.’
Dulcie took a great slurp of wine. Raising her own voice, she called out, ‘Don’t forget to warm his bottle before you tuck him into bed.’
Chapter 36
Unlike Pru’s bedsitter, which – as Dulcie had pointed out to Eddie Hammond – wasn’t on the way to anywhere, Bibi’s house was situated on the main road leading into Bath.
This meant you couldn’t help passing Bibi’s house even when you didn’t want to.
Like today.
Dulcie felt her stomach begin to tense up as she approached the first bend in the road. One twist to the left, one twist to the right, then the traffic lights. And there, on the left if you were unlucky enough to be caught at the lights, was Bibi’s house with its sloping front garden and narrow, hard-to-get-into drive.
Dulcie had a thumping headache, thanks to finishing off all the red wine Liza hadn’t stayed to drink last night. She had woken up sensing something was wrong, then groaned as the awful memories seeped back.
Pru hadn’t helped.
‘You should apologise to Liza,’ she told Dulcie.
‘Oh God, why do I always have to be the one to apologise?’ Dulcie wailed.
Pru hadn’t stated the obvious, she had simply given Dulcie a long look.
And since in view of the Liam thing it seemed sensible to steer clear of Brunton Manor for a while, Dulcie could think of only one other sensible way to pass the time.
Go shopping.
She especially didn’t enjoy passing Bibi’s house today because it served as a horrible reminder of yet another occasion when she had tried to improve a situation, only to end up making it much, much worse instead.
At first, in the weeks following Patrick’s eventful surprise party, Dulcie had crossed her fingers each time she approached the traffic lights, praying that when she rounded the second bend she would see James’s car parked on Bibi’s drive.
But this hadn’t happened, which just went to show what a waste of time praying and crossing your fingers was. These days Dulcie simply hoped she wouldn’t see Bibi.
Now, as the house came into view, she saw a different car on the drive.
This was interesting, because it might mean there was a new man at last in Bibi’s life.
Dulcie braked, even though the traffic lights — for once in their contrary lives — were on green.
A blue Renault behind her tooted irritably but Dulcie ignored it, far too intrigued by the car on the drive.
This was good news, this was promising news. If Bibi’s found herself a new man, thought Dulcie, perking up at the idea, I can stop feeling guilty about James.
The lights changed to red and she drew to a halt. The driver of the Renault gave a blast on his horn in disgust.
And Dulcie realised, too late, that the car on Bibi’s drive wasn’t unoccupied, as she had at first thought. Those headrests weren’t head-rests at all, they were heads.
Claire Berenger hadn’t only snapped up her husband, Dulcie realised miserably; she’d gone for the job lot and bagged her mother-in-law too.
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Dulcie had ever had much to do with, but she couldn’t help feeling it now. It hurt too, like a serrated knife twisting in her ribs.
Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched Bibi and Claire jump out of the car, laughing and weighed down with glossy carriers. Dulcie recognised several of them; in the old days she and Bibi had indulged in delicious spending sprees, visiting all their favourite shopping haunts and stopping for lunch somewhere gossipy and glamorous. They had both enjoyed their days out together almost as much as the actual buying of the new clothes.
We always got on so well, thought Dulcie, feeling horribly bereft. Bibi was the best mother-in-law anyone could wish for. And now she doesn’t need me any more. She’s got herself another potential daughter-in-law, a new best friend.
The lights had changed to green again without Dulcie noticing. The blare of the Renault’s horn behind her made her jump. When she lifted her foot from the clutch, the car jerked in protest and promptly stalled.
More horns were tooted. Beginning to perspire, Dulcie turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened.
She tried again.
And again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
From the sound of it, every car in Bath was blasting its horn at her now. The prickle of perspiration had turned into a torrent of sweat. And although Dulcie couldn’t bear to look, she knew Bibi and Claire would be watching with interest. Interest that would turn to amusement, no doubt, the moment Bibi recognised her car. This would make her day.
The traffic lights, almost with a shrug — ‘You had your chance, you blew it’ — turned back to red.
