So that’s why Evelyn Lloyd had walked so stiffly into the sitting room, with her back ramrod straight and shoulders back, Florence thought. She’d been compressed into this torturous device, whatever it was. Florence turned the package over and looked at the photograph of the full-length body shaper. Anyone over a certain age who had ever had any experience with a girdle would have recognized the power of this foundation garment, which reached from just above the knee practically to the neck, compressing and squeezing everything in between. It was a 1950’s girdle on steroids.
Florence was tempted to gather up all the packaging, tissue paper, and tags and cram it all in the large, heavy paper shopping bag from the dress shop, and maybe even turn down Mrs. Lloyd’s bed, but decided she should leave everything as it was. She switched off the light that had beckoned her into the room and, closing the door behind her, walked along the patterned carpet runner to her own bedroom.
“That was absolutely delicious,” said Mrs. Lloyd, licking the sweet stickiness of cherry brandy off her lips. She set down the small glass and smiled at her dinner companion.
“Very nice indeed, but the best part, of course, was the company,” Saunders replied as the waiter approached their table with a coffeepot. Catching Mrs. Lloyd’s eye, he raised the pot and she shook her head.
“That’ll be all, I guess,” Saunders told the man. “Just the bill, please.”
A few minutes later their server returned, bearing the bill on a small plate, which he set down at Saunders’s place. Saunders reached for the bill with his left hand and patted the inside breast pocket of his jacket with the other. A small look of alarm flashed across his face as he reached inside the jacket. A moment later he replaced the bill on the plate and, with an apologetic look at Mrs. Lloyd, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.
“That’s funny,” he said. “I must have left my wallet in my coat pocket. But I always keep it right here,” he said, tapping his breast pocket, “so I know where it is.” He stood up. “Just give me a moment, Evelyn, I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Lloyd’s shining eyes followed him as he headed off to the coatrack and then gazed contentedly around the room, taking in the few remaining diners. She was disappointed that no one from her immediate circle of friends had seen her dining with Harry. It would have been nice, she thought, if Reverend Thomas Evans and his wife, Bronwyn, for example, had come into the hotel tonight.
Saunders returned and from the worried look on his face, she knew that the news would not be good.
He shook his head as he sat down. “I’m terribly sorry, Evelyn,” he began, “but I seem to have lost my wallet. So embarrassing.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Lloyd replied cheerfully. “You’ll have left it in the taxi, that’s all. After all, you paid the fare, so you had it then, didn’t you?”
She smiled at the look of relief that crossed Saunders’s face.
“Of course,” he said, “that’ll be it. I’m sure someone will hand it in. Perhaps if you tell me what firm you used we could call them and see if anyone found it.”
“Well, I’m not just sure which taxi firm Florence rang,” Mrs. Lloyd said in a slightly evasive manner. “But why don’t you come back to mine for a nightcap and we’ll soon find the number and sort this out.”
Saunders nodded and Mrs. Lloyd reached for the bill.
“Now, why don’t I take care of this and you can…” “reimburse me later” hung unspoken in the air between them.
Mrs. Lloyd opened her purse and set a credit card down on the small plate beside the bill. As the waiter took the plate away, she reached into another section of her purse and withdrew two twenty-pound notes.
“Now you’re not to argue with me, Harry, but I want you to take these,” she said, holding the banknotes out to him. “Go on, take them. I insist.” She thrust the notes closer to him. “You’ll need a bit of walking-around money until you get your wallet back. Go on now.”
“Well, I feel terrible,” said Harry, taking the money. “Of course, I’ll…”
“Reimburse you later” again hung unspoken in the air between them.
“Yes, of course, you will,” Mrs. Lloyd said.
The waiter returned to present the credit card receipt for signature and Mrs. Lloyd did a double take when she saw it. That much? she thought. Of course, Harry had ordered the best wine on the menu, and his menu choices were at the top of the price list, too.
Well, she reassured herself, you don’t mind paying when you’ve really enjoyed yourself, and anyway, he’ll be reimbursing me. She added a generous tip, smiled at Saunders as she gathered up her handbag, and the two of them prepared to leave the dining room.
“Don’t forget your credit card, Evelyn,” Saunders said as he handed it to her.
He helped Mrs. Lloyd on with her coat. A moment later, as they approached the front desk to ask the hotel clerk to ring for a taxi, the young woman smiled and nodded toward the door.
“Already here,” she said. “Just dropped someone off. I asked him to wait as I thought one of our customers would likely need him.”
“Oh, well done, you,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Come along, Harry, we mustn’t keep him waiting.” A sudden thought made her smile. “Now wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was the same fellow who drove us here? We could get that wallet business sorted out right away.”
“That would be great,” Saunders agreed. But he didn’t look as if he really meant it.
Six
Classes begin Friday, 12 November in the community centre, 7:30 P.M.
Register now to avoid disappointment!
Penny and Victoria joined the small group peering at the hand-lettered sign in the newsagent’s window.
“Do you think we should go?” Victoria asked. “Would Gareth come, do you think?”
Penny smiled. “I know he likes gardening, but I’m not sure about dancing.” She shrugged. “It might be fun. Why don’t we take down the number and think about it.” As she reached into her bag for the notepad and pencil she now carried everywhere with her, Mrs. Lloyd joined the little group.
“Good morning,” she said. “What’s all this, then?” Penny pointed to the sign and a broad, knowing smile lit up Mrs. Lloyd’s face. “Oh, so the sign’s up, then, is it?” She beamed at Penny. “That’s my friend Harry who’s teaching the class. And if he’s half as good at dancing as he is at bridge, we’re in for a treat, I can tell you.”
“Oh, you’ll be going, then, will you?” Victoria asked.
“Of course I will,” Mrs. Lloyd replied. “It was my idea, after all. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She thought for a moment, then added, “And Morwyn will be doing a write-up about it for the newspaper, I shouldn’t wonder. After all, how often does someone come from Palm Beach to give us dancing lessons?” As she shifted her shopping bags from one hand to the other, she missed the quick exchange of glances between Penny and Victoria as Victoria mouthed
