Vintage Babes (54 page)

She laughed. ‘Yes, though today I am on home territory. But not for much longer, because I shall soon be moving to London. You see, I’ve agreed to leave Duncan’s house and give up any future claim to residence, in return for a payment from my stepsons.’

‘I trust it’s a substantial payment,’ I said.

Earlier in the month, Max had asked Lynn’s estate agency to value the property and, as I had guessed, the Thyme Park plot was worth a six figure sum.

Tina smiled. ‘It is. It’ll be enough for me to buy an apartment in a fashionable neighbourhood, like Chelsea. And the money Max and I are making means we’ll be able to furnish the apartment in style.’

‘Max will live there, too?’ Jenny said. ‘Like he’s living with you now?’

A couple of months ago, Jenny and I had arrived at Tina’s house for what was our final exercise session to find that Max had moved in. Their daily lives were, he had explained, so entwined that living together made sense; which was why he’d suggested it. After telling us of her instant agreement, Tina had enthused about how the young man had checked out her car, topping up the oil and pumping up the tyres. He was happy to despatch spiders and mix gin and tonics, too.

‘He will,’ Tina replied, then lowered her voice, though there was no one else within earshot. ‘Every morning I do my face in the bathroom before he’s awake. I don’t want him to see the basic me.’

‘That’s silly,’ Jenny protested. ‘I’m sure you don’t look that bad without make-up.’

‘Not bad, but I look… different. This is just between the three of us,’ she went on, ‘but Max seeing the basic me is one reason why I’m not keen to share a bed.’

As Tina reached for her glass to take a drink of apple juice, Jenny and I exchanged a look. This was something we had wondered about.

‘He’s mentioned it?’ I asked.

‘He said that as plenty of people think we do, perhaps we should.’

‘Doesn’t sound very romantic,’ Jenny remarked.

‘It wasn’t.’ Tina shrugged. ‘I pointed out the fact that I’m older, but Max’s response was that age doesn’t matter if minds and bodies connect.’

‘And age is just a number?’ I suggested. ‘Age is purely in the mind?’

‘He said that, too. But –’ Again, Tina’s voice dropped to confidentiality, ‘– to be honest, I’m not desperate about sex, never have been. Messy business and much overrated, in my opinion.’

But not in mine, I thought.

Jenny frowned. ‘You didn’t like it with Joe Fernandez?’

‘Not with him, not with Duncan, nor with my first husband. I’ve spent my life faking orgasms.’

I bit into my sandwich. When I had been interviewing Max alone – Steve and I had agreed that his and Tina’s popularity merited a follow-up piece in
The Siren
– the young man had confessed, strictly off the record, that living in a spacious, albeit run-down, house with Tina was a big improvement on sharing the ‘over the chip shop’ flat with his brothers. He had also intimated that should his hostess show signs of wanting him to sleep with her, he would oblige – though he was not smitten with overwhelming desire.

Yet a significant part of the interest in Max and Tina centred on their sexual relationship. Were they lovers, yes or no? There had been much media speculation on the subject which endlessly intrigued and which both of them – Max in particular – encouraged. One camp insisted the sexual attraction was glaringly obvious and if thirty years separated them, so what? Didn’t plenty of older men have much younger partners? However, other factions felt that, no matter how good she looked, Tina was the wrong generation to appeal to such a virile young man.

Jenny had even read a suggestion that Max might be gay. It was a suggestion Max had not dismissed, though that did not necessarily mean he was. It just meant he could see greater fame and fortune to be made from appealing to all proclivities.

‘How did you persuade Simon and Giles to be so generous?’ I enquired.

Tina pulled at one of her sequinned braids, braids which, according to a magazine Jenny had read, were becoming the rage with woman
d’un certain age.
‘I got Max to do the negotiating. You see, we’d been talking about how travelling up and down to London was becoming a pain and –’

‘You do seem to spend a lot of time there,’ Jenny inserted.

‘We’re in London almost every day… at the television studios or doing publicity gigs or attending meetings. Right now we’re involved in talks with a chain of sports clubs which wants to use our names and we’re also looking into designing our own fitness wear. And we might run life change and stress management seminars. Max is forever coming up with ideas.’ She flicked a hand. ‘Anyhow, I’d told Max about my financial situation and how my crap stepsons had cheated me out of Duncan’s share portfolios and how chuffed they’d be if I decided I couldn’t afford to live in Thyme Park any longer.’

‘Did you tell him about finding the bundles of notes?’ I said.

‘That, too. And he’s spent ages going through the house, searching for more. He found a couple wedged behind a painting, but that’s all. But when Max realised the position with Simon and Giles,’ she continued, ‘he suggested we should speak to them and ask how much they were prepared to pay me to leave.’

‘You knew the amount you wanted?’

‘Max did. As you know, he had the house valued and he’d also researched the price of apartments in trendy parts of London, so he had a sum fixed in his mind.’

‘Simon and Giles offered much less?’ I said, knowing they would have done.

‘At first. They were also unpleasant and quite rude towards me, until Max told them to show respect.’ Tina giggled. ‘He had them both shaking in their shoes.’

I grinned. ‘Good for Max. And they agreed to pay the amount you stipulated?’

‘They did. What’s more, Max insisted they send me their cheque straight away, which they have done and which I’ve cashed, and he got them to agree that I can stay in the house until October. So we have plenty of time to look for somewhere in London. We’ve already viewed a few apartments and have appointments to look at others,’ she said, and started on her sandwich.

‘Any plans to get in touch with your mother before you leave Dursleigh?’ I asked.

‘No, though… do you know if she’s here today?’

‘She isn’t. She and Ernest have gone on a coach tour holiday to the Lake District.’

‘She’s keeping well?’

‘Very well,’ I confirmed.

‘I’m not planning to get together with her within the next few months, but I may do later,’ Tina said. ‘Perhaps next year, once our TV programme has settled down. Max says that then, if it should become known that Billy is my brother and Dilys is my mam, it won’t do any harm. It could even add interest. But how are things with you and Steve? Silly question, I can tell by your glow they’re still fantastic.’

I smiled. ‘You’re right.’

‘Carol and Steve have got it bad. They’re like a couple of soppy teenagers, forever smiling at each other, touching each other, drooling over each other,’ Jenny said, in mock complaint. ‘All we need now is for Carol to follow her daughter’s example and walk down the aisle.’

I groaned. ‘Here we go again. But it’s not as though Steve and I will have any children and masses of people cohabit and have loyal, long-lasting relationships. We’re perfectly content as we are.’

Within days of our ‘treat’ weekend, Steve had moved in with me. Him spending the night at my house, then driving over to his flat to pick up his post, check the answerphone or get a change of clothes was a hassle he did not need. However, he had decided he would not sell his flat, he would rent it out. Property prices continued to rise and, in the future, we might decide to sell both our places and buy one larger house.

‘I’m a believer in happy endings. The eternal optimist,’ Jenny said stubbornly, and looked at her watch. ‘I should get back to Eileen.’

‘And I have a dog show to attend. How are the feet?’ I asked Tina.

‘Easier,’ she replied. ‘So I’d better find Max.’

‘Shouldn’t be too difficult. You look for a crowd of breathless females who’re preparing to lob their lingerie.’

She laughed. ‘I’ll do that. It’s been lovely to see you both.’

‘Lovely to see you,’ I replied.

Jenny nodded. ‘I hope we can get together again before too long.’

‘Hope so, too.’ Tina kissed us both on both cheeks. ‘Goodbye, girls, goodbye.’

As she disappeared, a little unsteady in her high heels, Jenny sighed. ‘So if she does eventually tie up with her mother, it’ll partly be because Max reckons it could add a fillip to their fame. How calculating is that?’

‘It’s sad,’ I said, ‘though I’m sure neither of them see it that way. And, still with calculation, Max has found himself a sugar mummy.’

‘And Tina’s got a man to look after her who’s handy about the house, which means they’re both happy.’

‘Though she’s not keen on lovemaking. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. I think it’s sad, too, that she needs to put on her make-up before Max can see her.’

‘You’re not worried about Steve seeing you with a naked face and running away screaming in horror?’ Jenny asked.

‘I’m not worried about him seeing my naked face or my naked body. In fact, while I don’t like to boast – yes, I do – he reckons my shape is well-nigh irresistible.’

‘Bruce thinks I’m the sexiest woman in Christendom.’

We looked at each other and laughed.

‘What a smug pair we are,’ I said.

‘And what’s wrong with celebrating the joy of being in our fifties? Jenny demanded.

‘Nothing,’ I replied. ‘Not one thing.’

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

As I wiped the
last of the spoons and put them into the drawer, I yawned. I was ready for bed. When the fête had ended, Debbie, Paul and Ronaldo had come back with Steve and me to my house. Annette would not be home until mid-evening, so they were to have dinner with us.

Both children had been in a joyous mood; Debbie thanks to her writing success and Paul because of Ronaldo’s performance in the dog show. His first test had been ‘stop and stay’. In truth, Ronaldo had not stopped and stayed well – at one point, he had run round in circles chasing his tail – but he had been awarded a ‘highly commended’ certificate. Although the judges’ magnanimity meant that every entrant, apart from the winner, had received the same certificate, Paul had been pleased.

However, his pleasure had turned into rip-roaring delight when the dog had come first in one category and won a silver – actually chromium-plated – cup. This had been for ‘Best Sausage Catcher.’

‘The way he jumped!’ Paul had said, reliving the moment time and again. ‘So high! And he went straight for the sausage.’

Steve had grinned. ‘Reminded me of his namesake, leaping for the ball.’

‘You’re right, Dad, it was just the same,’ his son had solemnly declared.

I bolted the back door. After dropping off his children, Steve was calling in at the bottle bank to dispose of a load of empties, but he should be home any minute. Retrieving the rubber chicken from the kitchen floor, I had returned it to its polybag when I heard the front door open.

‘It’s me,’ Steve called, and I felt a warm glow.

‘Did Annette’s fair go well?’ I asked, when we had kissed in the hall.

‘It was very successful, apparently. Though she didn’t get the chance to say much about it because the kids were so busy telling her about their day. How Ronaldo had won that goddamn prize and how Debbie’s story had been accepted. She’d left before the post arrived this morning, so she didn’t know.’