Chapter 22
JACKIE
Jackie smiled as she heard Nancy singing in the kitchen the next morning.
Nancy had been so sad and withdrawn when they first moved in, so she was delighted to see her gradually coming out of her shell as the weeks passed by.
She’d really enjoyed herself last night; she’d been like a different person.
Slate had noticed it too. Jackie had seen his eyes drawn to Nancy several times during the evening.
‘Someone’s happy,’ Phyllis said, as she came down the stairs.
Jackie turned and smiled at her. ‘She’s got a smashing singing voice, hasn’t she? And you should have seen her dancing last night. I think the night out did her good.’
‘So it seems.’ Phyllis’s dark eyes rested on Jackie’s face. ‘It’s turned out a lot different living here than I thought it would. It’s starting to feel like we’re a little community, more than lodgers, don’t you think?’
‘I do,’ Jackie agreed. ‘Have you made any progress with finding another mobile home? I’ve looked at a few flats recently but honestly you couldn’t swing a cat in any of the rooms.’ She looked down at Cobweb who had just sauntered down the stairs. ‘Not that any of us would swing a cat.’
Cobweb strutted past, tail in the air.
‘I’m going to look at another one later, but first I’m going to visit Joyce. I’m afraid she’s taken a turn for the worse. I bet her son and his family are swirling like vultures.’
‘I’m so sorry. Growing older stinks, doesn’t it?’
‘It does if you let it. We have to squeeze as much enjoyment out of our lives as we can. We never know when we’ll end up like Joyce.’
They both walked into the kitchen to see Nancy wiping down all the surfaces, still singing at the top of her voice.
‘You’ve got a great voice, you know,’ Jackie said loudly.
Nancy stopped mid-syllable and spun around. ‘Oh, hello, you two. I’m just having a bit of a spring clean.’
‘So we see. I can’t believe how full of energy you are after last night. I’m dead on my feet. I bet Slate hasn’t surfaced yet, has he?’
‘I haven’t seen him. It was a fab night, wasn’t it? You must come next time, Phyllis.’
‘Maybe,’ Phyllis said vaguely. ‘Now, who wants a cuppa? I’m going to read my tea leaves.’
‘Count me in,’ Jackie said. ‘What about you, Nancy?’
Nancy hesitated, then nodded. ‘Me too.’
So, a little later, tea drunk, they were all sitting around the table while Phyllis read their tea leaves.
They both swirled around the bit of tea they’d left in their cups, turned them upside down on the saucers, picked them back up again and stared intently at the patterns left by the remaining leaves, as Phyllis had instructed them.
‘I can’t make out anything,’ Nancy muttered.
‘Nor me,’ Jackie said disappointedly.
‘Let me see.’ Phyllis stood up beside Nancy and peered into her cup.
‘Hello, what do we have here? You look like the three witches,’ Slate said good-humouredly as he came into the kitchen.
‘We’re reading our tea leaves. Do you want yours read?’ Jackie asked.
‘Heck, no. I can’t be doing with any of that malarkey. But you ladies go ahead. I’ll just make myself a coffee and I’ll be out of your way.’
Jackie noticed that he hovered about though, waiting to see what Phyllis said. Maybe he wasn’t as uninterested as he made out.
Phyllis studied Nancy’s cup, the skin between her eyebrows puckered into a frown. She pursed her lips, nodded then looked at the saucer.
‘I see a butterfly – that indicates success and pleasure,’ she told Nancy.
Nancy beamed. ‘Really? That’s great. Thank you, Phyllis. Now what about Jackie?’
Phyllis concentrated on Jackie’s tea leaves next. ‘You have a few stars; good luck is coming your way.’
‘Hooray! I might get a flat soon then,’ Jackie said.
Then Phyllis read her own tea leaves and a worried look came over her face.
‘What is it?’ Jackie asked.
‘A cross. And it’s near the rim.’
‘What does that mean?’ Slate asked curiously. He was leaning against the worktop, sipping his drink and watching the tea-reading ritual with a casual interest.
‘Trouble or death. And soon.’ Phyllis looked dejected and Jackie’s heart went out to her because she knew she was thinking of Joyce.
‘You looked after her the best you could, love.’
‘Who?’ Slate asked.
‘Her friend Joyce,’ Jackie explained. ‘She’s taken a turn for the worse. Phyllis is off to visit her in a bit.’
Slate looked dumbfounded. ‘You actually believe in all this mumbo-jumbo?’
‘Don’t scoff at what you don’t understand,’ Phyllis told him sharply.
‘If the bathroom’s going to be free for a while, I’ll light some candles and have a soak in the bath,’ Jackie said. ‘My bones are aching after all the dancing last night and I’ve got a hot date tonight.’
‘Typical Taurus, I told you,’ Phyllis said to Nancy.
‘Yes, I am. How did you know?’ Jackie asked in surprise.
‘The hour-long baths give it away, and your love of luxury and nice clothes. Plus, you’re loyal and independent.’
Jackie stared at her in surprise. That was quite spot on. ‘What about Nancy?’ she asked.
‘She already knows that I’m Capricorn,’ Nancy said. ‘Practical, reliable but emotionally reserved and doesn’t like to take risks – apparently.’
That sounded pretty spot on too. ‘And Slate?’
Slate raised an eyebrow, arms folded, a smile playing on his lips.
‘Libra. Charming, social, intelligent but avoids conflict and deep relationships.’
Slate shrugged. ‘I think that’s a lucky guess. Not everyone born under the same zodiac sign has the same nature.’
Maybe not, but Phyllis seemed to have got the measure of them all, Jackie thought.
‘What’s your star sign?’ Nancy asked Phyllis.
‘Pisces. Psychic, intuitive but I get emotional and overwhelmed. Which is why I’m not looking forward to visiting Joyce.’ She stood up. ‘I must be off. See you all later.’
‘Bye,’ they chorused together.
‘I must be off too,’ Slate said.
‘Who are you going out with, someone from work?’ Nancy asked Jackie, as Slate walked out of the kitchen.
Jackie winked. ‘Someone from Bumble. He’s only in his early forties so I need to make a BIG effort. And I might not be home tonight.’
She grinned as Nancy’s mouth dropped open. ‘See you in a couple of hours.’
* * *
Jackie had a real pamper session, scented bubbles, face mask, pedicure and manicure.
Hughie, the guy she was meeting looked like a real hunk.
She loved the fact that she was in her early sixties and could still pull men years younger.
Not that Pam approved, so she didn’t talk about her private life much to her daughter.
Which might be a bit awkward now that she was living with Nancy, and Nancy worked with Pam.
Nancy didn’t strike her as a gossip though, and she didn’t need her daughter’s approval anyway.
She didn’t want to date men her age, Jackie thought, as she soaked in the bubbles.
She wanted to go out and enjoy herself, to be wined, dined, desired.
She looked after herself, kept to a decent weight, ate healthily most of the time, dressed fashionably.
She wanted fun in her life. Most men her age had let themselves go and just wanted someone to look after them, a mother more than a wife. Like Malcolm.
Slate was different, of course. Last night had been such fun.
She had no idea he played in a rock band.
His bandmate, the tattooed Decaf, looked like he could fight off a pack of wolves but was putty in the hands of his girlfriend, Muriel.
And Oxo looked far too nerdy to be in a rock band.
She liked them all but none of them appealed to her in that way.
It took her a few hours to get ready but she was pleased when she studied her reflection in the mirror.
Her legs were still shapely so she could carry off the slinky red mini dress, no problem, bright colours suited her dark skin.
She had matched it with black stilettos, a black bag and a little black jacket.
She’d pass for fifty easy, she thought. Which was good as that was the age she’d put on her profile.
As she went downstairs, she heard Slate come back in with Oxo. Oxo’s eyes rested on her and widened.
‘Hi, you look stunning,’ Slate said. ‘You must be going somewhere special.’
‘I’m on a date.’ Jackie blew him a kiss. ‘See you later… maybe.’
As she walked out of the door she could sense Oxo’s eyes still on her. Good. She hoped she had the same effect on Hughie.