Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
V eronica stood in front of the open wardrobe and flicked through the hangers. She didn’t know why she was being so uncertain; it hardly mattered what she wore. On the other hand, she didn’t want to look too ‘done up’ – it was only the village pub – but she needed Jack to see she’d made some kind of effort.
It was almost half past seven, and she hadn’t even put a comb through her hair yet. She reached for her best black trousers, hooking them off the hanger. Black trousers took you anywhere. A few minutes more, and she’d chosen a three-quarter sleeve jersey top, wine red with a tiny print, to go with them. Smart but not dressy.
Veronica changed into her outfit then sat down at the dressing table and gave her hair a good brush before coaxing it into its usual chin-length bob with the comb. She hardly wore make-up these days but she smoothed on some light foundation, then applied a pinkish-brown lipstick.
Back downstairs, Jack looked up from his paper. ‘What’s all this, then? Going somewhere, are you?’ He stared at her with friendly curiosity, not animosity, and Veronica immediately felt guilty.
She pushed the feeling to one side. ‘I said earlier, if you’d been listening. I’m popping out. I won’t be long.’
‘Ah yes, you did say.’ Jack put his paper down on his lap. ‘Didn’t think you were serious. Where are you off to, exactly?’
‘I told you. I’m having a drink with someone who comes in the shop. A few of them, as it goes, women I’ve known a while. We get on well. It was nice to be asked.’
‘Oh. Well, I suppose that’s all right then.’ Jack’s face changed a bit, his mouth turned down at the corners.
Veronica almost said she wouldn’t bother going out after all. That murder thing they were following was on telly tonight. And then her mind swung back to the purpose of tonight’s little mission.
‘Yes, it is all right. I won’t be late.’
She marched into the hall, wriggled into her grey jacket, swung on her shoulder bag and left the cottage.
She still felt guilty, and, if she was honest, a teeny bit nervous. She admonished herself for the feeling. What was there to be nervous about? She was a grown woman, wasn’t she? More than grown. Every day she stood behind the counter, greeting every customer with a ready smile, whether she knew them or not, and she was never short of a friendly word. The shop was her own domain, it was true, but if she couldn’t walk into a pub in her own village without a companion, it was a pretty poor show.
By the time she reached the Goose and Feather, all her nervousness had gone, and she pushed open the door with the confidence she’d known was in there somewhere. Veronica looked around the bar. It was so long since she’d been in here, she’d forgotten what it looked like. It was a Wednesday evening; the pub was fuller than she’d imagined. Several pairs of eyes were on her, including those of the landlord, but she didn’t mind. The faces she saw were friendly, and there were several ‘hellos’ as she stood a little uncertainly inside the door.
She wasn’t meeting anyone, of course. She’d only told Jack she was to stop him objecting to her outing or thinking it strange, which it was, in a way. She hadn’t been able to think of anywhere to take herself off to other than the Goose, and she was damned if she was going to wander around the village in the cold until she felt it was a suitable time to go home.
Maybe she should have asked someone to come with her. She had friends in the village, naturally, especially among the women who came to the shop, but none of them could be described as close enough to invite to the pub when it was such an unusual thing for her to do. So, here she was, alone, and being brave about it.
‘Veronica?’ A voice came from the table furthest away from the window, the darkest spot. ‘Come and sit with us.’
Veronica peered through the gloom and made out the nice couple who ran the greengrocers in the high street, Nick and Anne. She went across.
‘On your own, are you?’ Anne said. She didn’t sound shocked or surprised in the least. ‘Pull up a chair. Nick, get Veronica a drink.’
‘Sure.’ Nick beamed at her. ‘What’s your poison?’ He stood up, pushing his hand in his pocket.
Veronica sat down. She’d no need to worry, had she? This was her local. It was also the twenty-first century. If she fancied a drink and some company, what was to stop her?
The time raced by. Veronica sipped her second lager shandy – she’d bought the second round – and chatted happily to Nick, Anne, and quite a few other people she knew who’d come over to say hello. Nobody looked askance at her, or wondered aloud why she’d come alone. She’d had an answer ready in case they did; her husband had a cold and had gone to bed early. But maybe it was superfluous; those who knew Jack would also know he liked to keep himself to himself.
Sitting at the bar on stools were a group of men who looked like regulars. Veronica half-listened to their chat and hearty laughter while the plock of billiard balls and a crescendo of younger voices sounded from the back room.
‘We’ll be seeing you in here again, I hope,’ Nick said, as Veronica rose to leave. ‘We often pop in on a Wednesday.’
Anne laughed. ‘We do, and not only on a Wednesday. Makes a change from looking at the same four walls.’
As she left the pub to a chorus of cheery ‘goodnights’, Veronica felt the guilt flow through her veins once more. It was Anne’s mention of four walls that did it. She’d left Jack on his own in the evening for the first time in… she couldn’t remember how long. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it?
‘You’re not going out again, are you?’ Jack said on Sunday evening, as the Antiques Roadshow played its opening tune. He’d laid a faint emphasis on ‘again’.
Sunday was pushing it a bit, she realised. It was only four days since her last trip to the pub. But it wasn’t that long until Christmas Eve; time was of the essence if she was going to succeed in her mission.
‘I said I would. You don’t mind, do you?’ Veronica wriggled into her long coat. It was a colder night than before.
‘S’pose I won’t have to.’ Jack gave a small sigh. Then he smiled. ‘Course I don’t mind. As long as you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.’
‘Come with me if you like,’ Veronica ventured, knowing full well what the answer would be. It was early days. Nothing – nobody – would be changing that quickly.
‘No, no. I’m fine right here. I know how you women like to natter. Be careful in the dark, though, love. That pavement’s getting dicey.’
‘I will.’ She planted a kiss on top of Jack’s head, where his receding hairline met his bald patch. ‘I’ll only be an hour or so.’
The Goose was naturally busier than it was during the week, but she found a spot on a banquette seat, having bought herself a drink, and soon she found herself drawn into the group nearby, including two of her regular customers and the one and only male member of the book group.
The time passed pleasantly enough, and Veronica stuck to her promise and was back home in an hour and a half.
‘Will you be doing it a lot, this going-out-of-a-night business?’ Jack handed her a mug of hot chocolate, the last thing she wanted after a lager shandy and a large glass of white wine somebody had insisted on buying her. She thanked him anyway, aware of the slight edge to his voice.
A warning light flicked on in her head. If Jack was upset about her new activities, she couldn’t let that happen. She may have started out on this route with a particular goal in mind but all she’d wanted to do was ruffle the waters a little, give him food for thought. She loved Jack just the way he was. What sort of wife would she be if it were otherwise? Party or no party, she’d have to give up her plan and accept things as they were.
But maybe not just yet. Veronica could be just as stubborn as her husband if she chose to be.
‘I might go again. I’ll see how I feel.’ She shrugged, as if it was neither here nor there. ‘It makes a change from staring at the same four walls,’ she added, borrowing the words from Anne from the greengrocers.
‘And from staring at the same old me.’ Jack raised his eyes.
‘I never said that!’
He laughed. ‘I know. I’m only kiddin’. Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.’