Fifteen
Rita and Vera Boot’s eightieth birthday party was a far more raucous affair and resulted in the Reverend Brian Copeland appearing to be somewhat traumatised when he left, although his wife Daisy looked happier than anyone had seen her for years. They were both friends of Rita and Vera and had been invited as such, but the vicar had never been known to let his hair down.
Granny Joy said that the strippers were hot, which made Hope and Grace exchange looks as if they were about to vomit.
‘I made fifty quid at the poker table. But some of that is now down the front of one particular pair of gold sparkly pants. And there wasn’t much room, believe me.’ Granny Joy chuckled.
‘You weren’t supposed to be playing with real money,’ Hope exclaimed. ‘I handed out the imitation notes myself.’
‘I know you did,’ said Granny Joy. ‘We decided we’d rather play for the real thing.’
‘It’s not illegal,’ said Simon. ‘Strictly speaking. Providing it’s not a commercial enterprise.’
‘Fabulous,’ said Hope. ‘No wonder the vicar was traumatised. Gambling and male strippers at the birthday party of two eighty-year-olds is enough to traumatise anyone who is expecting tea and crumpets.’
‘I didn’t know there were crumpets,’ said Granny Joy. ‘I haven’t had crumpets for years. Your grandfather loved a nice crumpet slathered with butter.’
Hope rolled her eyes. ‘I hope Bruce Boot doesn’t phone us to complain. I dread to think what he must’ve thought about it all. Although he did know what they wanted. He was there when they requested it.’
‘He has phoned,’ said Pat, looking serious. And then she smiled. ‘To give us a five star review which he says he’ll be posting as soon as he gets home.’
‘You haven’t heard the best bit,’ said Simon. ‘We’ve already had five requests for birthday parties from, shall we say, the older generation.’
‘I’ve only just brought Granny Joy home,’ Hope said. ‘They must have called as we were walking out the door. I did have a lot of requests for my card. Now I know why.’
Tom laughed when Hope told him all about it later that evening. She had called him on the pretext of just checking he and Della didn’t want any changes to the fairy grotto, and were happy with the venue for the proposal. They both knew that what was developing between them was more than a business relationship but for now Hope still needed to keep things vaguely professional.
‘It sounds as if you had your hands full,’ he said.
‘I think those male strippers were the ones with their hands full. Their gold sparkly pants certainly were. And those ladies were rather liberal with their own hands.’
‘You had fun though?’
Hope laughed. ‘I did. Never judge a book by its cover, Tom. Those sisters look like butter would melt in their mouths but they could set water on fire. They are lovely, and very sweet in a way, but I’m glad they’re not my relatives. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.’
‘Then you’d better get some sleep. It’s Monday tomorrow.’
Hope wasn’t sure if he meant she’d better get some sleep because she was tired, or that she’d better get some sleep because she might not be getting much sleep tomorrow. Or maybe both. Whichever one he meant, his voice sent tingles up and down her body.
‘You’re right. And it’s going to be another busy day. I’ll see you and Della at seven in the bar of the Trulove Folkestone Hotel.’
‘I’m counting the hours, Hope. Sleep well.’
‘Me too, Tom. And you.’
She rolled over onto her back when she rang off. Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t get much sleep tonight because all she would be thinking about was meeting Tom tomorrow.
Although when she did close her eyes, she had a vivid image of a tall, tanned man in a pair of sparkly gold pants with wads of ten pound notes stuffed down the front.