Vintage Babes (47 page)

‘And another lady who has a view of the entrance could pinpoint the times William arrived by what television programme she’d been watching.
Countdown
around three or
Richard & Judy
at five p.m.’ My father shook a bemused head. ‘Imagine being glued to the box like that.’

‘With short breaks to monitor arrivals,’ I said.

‘Nora is also almost sure of the colour of the car William was driving on which day,’ Ernest added. ‘Seems she has dresses in similar shades.’

Steve laughed. ‘Some memory!’

‘Have you spoken to Dilys today?’ I asked my father. He nodded. ‘How is she?

‘Doesn’t seem too bothered about the idea that William could be locked up for years and delighted with the way everyone’s rallied round her. Folk have been constantly knocking on her door to wish her well. She’s so grateful. But they know she can’t be held responsible for her son being a bad ’un – could happen to any of us – and, besides, she’s a friendly character.’

‘Very friendly,’ said Ernest. ‘She’s invited me for dinner at her place this evening, to say sorry for William’s behaviour.’

‘Play your cards right and maybe she’ll offer to cook your dinner for you every evening,’ my father remarked.

Ernest’s cheeks pinkened. ‘I wouldn’t mind that.’

‘Marie was saying she wouldn’t mind being able to kick like you did,’ my father told me, ‘when you kicked the knife out of William’s hand.’ He chuckled. ‘You reminded me of that woman who wore the black leather rig-out in
The Avengers
and got up to all kind of antics. It’s years ago now, but what was her name?’

‘Emma Peel,’ Steve provided, and grinned. ‘Carol could be her twin. Same fire, same merciless aggression, same agility.’

‘Same smooth-talking sidekick male,’ I said.

‘Carol’s agility is due to her work-outs with Max,’ my father declared, ‘as I told the reporter from –’ He named a downmarket and often luridly sensational tabloid.

I stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘There was a reporter at Bridgemont this morning and I told him the reason you were so agile was because you’d been doing exercise classes twice a week with Max, who is on TV. I said you’d been on television with Max, too, and I played him the video. He loved it.’

I groaned. The photograph of Steve and I had been bad enough to bear, but now… ‘Knife Attack Heroine Was Hot, Vows Personal Trainer’ was one headline which flashed through my mind. ‘‘If You Believe It, You Can Achieve It’, Vintage Babe Chanted,’ was another.

‘I expect you also told the reporter that I used to be married to Tom?’

‘No. Forgot, actually. Nor did I say anything about you and Max being a pair, because –’ he winked at Steve ‘– it’s obvious you have another chap in tow. Pity the papers have stolen your
thunder,’ my father went on.

‘Meaning?’ Steve said.

‘They’ve already written about William taking Ernest captive, and how you and Carol came to the rescue, whereas it won’t be in
The Siren
until next week.’

‘Ah, but then the story will be straight from the horses’ mouths,’ Steve told him. ‘We can provide the low-down. The nitty-gritty. And while it may not rate exactly as a scoop, appetites will have been well and truly whetted.’

‘Perhaps you should get the printers to produce extra copies next week?’ I suggested.

He nodded. ‘I was thinking the same myself.’

Ernest looked at his watch. ‘And I’m thinking it’s time we were off, George. I need to get washed and changed, dressed in my finery before I go up to Dilys’s for dinner. Do you think I should wear a suit?’

My father shook his head. ‘Sports jacket and flannels will be adequate.’

‘With a tie?’

‘Yes, a tie. The ladies always like a tie. Shows respect. You could take her a bunch of flowers, too.’

‘Good idea, I will. So long as the florists’ is still open.’

‘Thanks again for the champagne,’ Steve said, as we all rose to our feet.

‘It’s not much. Nowhere near enough, considering you saved my life,’ Ernest told him. ‘I believe you were the editor on
The Ringley Bugle
before you came here. How long were you in that job?’

‘Around six years.’

‘You started there as editor?’ he asked, as they walked out onto the corridor.

‘Yes.’

‘How many reporters did you have working for you?’

As Ernest continued his quizzing and we followed behind, my father leant towards me. ‘He’s sweet on Dilys,’ he whispered. ‘All of a sudden, she’s God’s gift and can do no wrong. So watch this space, Ernest could be husband number four. And how about this chap –’ he indicated Steve ‘– as your second hubbie?’

I slung him an impatient glance. ‘Dad, you’ve got the wrong idea.’

‘I know what I see.’

‘You see nothing,’ I hissed.

‘Good picture, the one of you and Carol in the paper,’ he said, as he shook Steve’s hand in farewell. ‘Gillian pinned it up on the notice board in the residents’ lounge this morning and everyone’s been admiring it.’

Though tempted to tear out my hair and give a manic scream, I restrained myself. And to think, I had regarded the house manager as a friend.

‘Nice to be appreciated,’ Steve said drily.

With Ernest hurrying to get to the flower shop and my father smiling a smile which could only be described as irritating, the visitors departed.

‘So, as your dad’s been spilling the beans, we’ll need to watch out for another dose of publicity tomorrow,’ Steve said. ‘Plus maybe a re-run of the shot of the ‘luvverrrs’.’ He made a face. ‘Still, it gave Debs something to tease me about.’

‘She didn’t mind that you were photographed… embracing me?’

‘No. It seems to have finally dawned that her mum and dad are now separate entities, will stay that way and are thus allowed to have other –’

‘Friends?’ I quickly provided, when he hesitated.

‘Quite so.’ He inspected his watch. ‘I must go. Need to get ready to perform my removal man duties. I’ll be too busy tonight, but suppose I fix your lavatory tomorrow evening? I should’ve found a new lock nut by then.’

‘Tomorrow I’m out at the council meeting –’

‘Sorry, forgot that.’

‘– so how about Friday?’

‘With scratch dinner again?’ Steve asked.

‘Sure.’

When we had left Bridgemont the previous evening, I had suggested we should go to my house for a drink and to recover. Once there, we had become so involved in talking over ‘the William incident’, that time had flown. Suddenly we were both hungry, yet had felt disinclined to venture out, so I had knocked up a quick omelette. And during the course of the evening, Steve had gone upstairs, discovered the wonky loo and offered to repair it.

‘And on Friday we can drink Ernest’s champagne,’ he said.

‘Remember you suggested I speak to the producer about Tina and me doing the work-outs as a duo?’ Max asked me, as we took our places in the conservatory the next morning. ‘I did and he’s in favour. We start our regular slot on the show next week, probably Wednesday.’

I grinned. ‘Congratulations.’

‘And to you on your vigilante performance.’ Lifting a couple of newspapers from his bag, he spoke to Tina and Jenny. ‘I assume you’re aware you’re in the presence of a wonder woman.’

‘I am,’ Jenny confirmed.

Tina nodded. ‘Me, too. I read about the trouble at the retirement flats and how you and Steve came to the rescue, Carol, and –’ She hesitated. ‘Mrs Langsdon must’ve had a difficult time and I wondered if you had any idea how she is.’

‘She’s in good spirits. My father lives at Bridgemont, too, and it seems all the residents are supporting her.’

Tina smiled. ‘That’s kind.’

‘So is this,’ Max said, opening a copy of a tabloid. He spoke to me. ‘Don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I want to thank you.’

‘I have seen it.’ On my way over to Tina’s, I had stopped to buy those papers which seemed likely to print a follow-up report on the William incident and looked swiftly through them. I needed to know what was being published. ‘But it’s my father you should thank. He’s the one who gave the reporter all the info.’

The piece Max indicated had used my knife-kicking as a hook into writing about him. He was named as my personal trainer and the source of my prowess, his exercise regime was described and there were references to his television appearances. To my relief, the report was matter-of-fact, did not make mock and came with no tacky headline. And the fuzzy photograph which accompanied it was of Max, Tina, Jenny and me on the morning show.

‘Then tell him I’m grateful, real grateful, because it’s already proving to be one hell of a plug. I was only just out of bed when the TV studios rang to say they were getting calls from women asking how they could enrol for my classes, and wanting to know if I was agreeable to them passing on my number. You can bet I said yes. A couple of calls came through before I left home and since then I’ve received six more messages. And the day has only just begun.’

‘It could also encourage people to watch our TV slot,’ Tina said.

‘And how.’ Setting aside the first newspaper, Max opened the second. It was yesterday’s tabloid and he displayed the page which carried the report of the William incident. He grinned at me. ‘Some snog!’

Jenny stepped forward to see the photograph. ‘Interesting,’ she murmured.

‘That’s what happens in office romances,’ Tina remarked casually. If she felt irked or jealous, she did not show it.

Should I explain how Steve and I had been carried away by relief and only for a moment? But it could sound as if I was protesting too much, so it was probably wiser – and was certainly easier – to say nothing.

I shrugged.

‘Right, babes, action,’ Max instructed, and we started the exercises.

After a good night’s sleep I felt fit and refreshed, and I worked hard.

As soon as we had finished, Max checked his mobile. ‘Four more messages!’ he announced delightedly, and gathered together his gear. ‘Must go home and answer them.’

‘Are you intending to raise the mother/daughter situation?’ Jenny asked me, as Tina accompanied the young man to the front door.

I nodded. I had spent a lot of time wondering whether to remain silent or if I should speak out, weighing up the fors and againsts. ‘I think I will, in view of the fact that Tina wanted to know how Dilys was.’

‘I agree. I think we should at least see how the land lies.’

‘We
?
’

‘I’m happy to help.’

I smiled. ‘Thanks, Jen.’

When Tina returned, we went through to the kitchen.

‘Jenny told me how you and your mother don’t speak,’ I said, as she filled glasses with water. ‘Have you never been tempted to get in touch and put matters right?’

Tina blinked, surprised by the question. ‘Well… yes. And actually –’ She broke off.

‘Actually what?’ Jenny encouraged.

‘Actually, I first came to Dursleigh because of my mother. I knew she lived in the area and I hoped we could revive our relationship.’