Chapter Fourteen Bingo!
It begins to rain on the way up to the Lake District, which seems entirely appropriate; on one of our family holidays here when Zoe was young she insightfully pointed out that there probably wouldn’t be as many lakes if it didn’t rain so much. The book that we’re here to discuss, Grave Tattoo by one of Ed’s favourite authors, Val McDermid, also begins on a rainy day, so the setting and the weather will be perfect.
‘Did you get the chance to read it?’ I ask Sarah. When she decided she would come along after all, I offered to give her a lift although I knew I was taking a risk with Patty also being in the car — her journey pastime is making up vulgar words from the number plates that pass by. Fortunately she’s been focussed on the potential Granny-Okie playlist she’s downloaded and hasn’t started playing yet.
‘Yes,’ Sarah says. ‘It was a bit of a rush because the tea shop’s been really busy.’
‘Is it always busy in January?’ I ask.
‘Yes, if the weather is as mild as it has been then there are always joggers and dog walkers along the canal. I think people like to get out in the fresh air after food and TV bingeing over Christmas.’
‘I can certainly understand that,’ I say. ‘The fresh air part, not the jogging bit.’
We both laugh.
‘Me neither,’ says Sarah. ‘But I read the book and enjoyed it.’
‘Doesn’t matter if you haven’t,’ Patty interjects. ‘Just nod along and add in a few stock phrases.’
‘I apologise for my best friend,’ I say to Sarah. ‘She doesn’t actually read any of the books, she simply comes to the weekends away.’
‘There’s no need,’ says Patty. ‘Okay, tell me each type of book I’m talking about with these phrases: I really thought I knew who’d done it but the ending was a complete shock.’
‘Murder mystery,’ say Sarah and I in unison.
‘Ten points each,’ continues Patty. ‘Okay, what about this one: The author must have spent months researching the detail; it was fascinating to find out about that era.’
‘Historical,’ we both say again with a smile.
‘Okay, let me have a go,’ says Sarah. ‘I so wanted her to end up with the bad boy but they never do.’
‘Romance,’ I call out.
‘See?’ says Patty. ‘So, this weekend let’s play book review bingo. These are the rules: I’ll give each of you a list of clichés that I think you’ll hear from the others and the first to tick them all off gets a GT from me.’
I can’t help but think it sounds rather cruel, as if we’re mocking our book-loving friends, but Patty reassures me that they’ll love it when they realise what we’re doing.
‘And of course it challenges you two to actually say something that isn’t a cliché,’ my friend points out.
That has me thinking, as I genuinely didn’t guess the ending but I now have to find a way of expressing that without risking losing the bingo game. Damn it, I’m already feeling competitive about Patty’s silly idea.
‘Tell me about the Granny-Okies,’ says Sarah and I don’t even need to look at Patty to know that her chest has risen and fallen as she prepares to talk for the rest of the journey.
* * *
‘A gingerbread shop?’ asks Patty as we drive past. ‘Is that all it sells?’
‘Grasmere is famous for it,’ I tell her. ‘It would be a travesty not to try some.’
‘And that’s the churchyard, isn’t it?’ asks Sarah, pointing at the church next to the gingerbread shop. ‘The one where Wordsworth is buried?’
‘It is,’ I reply. ‘And again, it would be a travesty not to visit it, given that he features in the book.’
As I pull up to our hotel, the rain has stopped and the air has that smell of being freshly washed. We’re in the centre of the village with its twisty lanes and slate-built houses.
‘Hmm,’ says Patty, scribbling away. ‘I need to add that to the bingo — “should visit grave”. You’re excused for saying it this time.’
I protest that it’s not a clichéd expression and therefore can’t go on the card but she’s not listening. She finishes scribbling then hands Sarah and I separate pieces of paper containing the phrases that we have to listen out for. ‘Just as with bingo, you’ve each got different ones to look out for,’ she says with a smirk.
Peter, Ed and Caroline have already arrived when we go to check in. They wave at us from the bar, where they look very cosy around a real fire with a bottle of delicious-looking red. We girls quickly head to our rooms, freshen up and then join them, ordering another bottle to ease us into the weekend.
‘So what’s the plan for these next two days?’ asks Ed after we’ve toasted our book club. ‘I guess we should really go and see Wordsworth’s grave at some point.’
Patty purses her lips trying to hold back the laughter and I notice Sarah taking a discreet look at her piece of paper and giving me a barely noticeable shake of the head. That means she doesn’t have that phrase on her card and it’s one–nil to me.
I explain that my idea is to relax after our drive and discuss the book after dinner; that leaves tomorrow for exploring the village and the surrounding countryside. The hotel has a library room which I’ve reserved so we have a snug place filled with the smell of paperbacks and leather chairs to settle down in and discuss the story. This book actually combines both Ed’s and Peter’s literary loves. It’s a crime story but with a historical twist involving a lost Wordsworth poem. So I hope that being here, where Wordsworth lived and died, brings the book to life.
‘Have you been doing these weekend jaunts for long?’ Sarah is asking the group.
‘It’s nearly a year since our very first,’ replies Peter. ‘We went to a haunted castle not far from here to discuss a ghost story.’
‘And Peter met his partner, who was skulking in the dungeons wearing a tattered wedding dress,’ adds Ed.
‘I should have guessed then that was his thing,’ said Peter with a smile. ‘It was a lovely break anyway, so we kept them going.’
‘It sounds very special,’ says Sarah. ‘I’m really looking forward to this.’
After drinks we head to our rooms to change for dinner. Mine is a small suite with a king-sized bed which seems a waste; if things had gone differently I might be sharing that bed. Although I still can’t imagine doing anything more than lying in someone’s arms; it’s romance rather than sex I think I need — which is not the case for Patty.
‘The bed in my room could certainly withstand some action,’ she declares as she bursts through the door. ‘I’ve just videoed it for Jack. This isn’t bad either, shame Michael didn’t work out.’
‘Never say never,’ I say. ‘I’ve decided I’ll call him when we get back. After all, he might have a good reason for not showing up.’
‘You’re right, he could have died for all we know — at least that would be excusable,’ says Patty, getting a pillow thrown at her.
‘Are you ready for dinner?’ I ask, refusing to dignify her comment with any further discussion.
‘Born ready,’ is her reply.
* * *
We descend the stairs side by side, looking as if we’ve coordinated our outfits. We’re both wearing thigh-length dresses in rich winter colours with high-heeled boots. Of course Peter notices it.
‘You two look like you’re about to do some catalogue modelling,’ he says. ‘Or appearing on daytime TV showcasing the fashions for this season.’
‘Makes a change from me always modelling last season’s clothes,’ I reply, smiling.
Sarah looks stunning. She has thick auburn hair which I’ve only ever seen tied up, but now that it’s down, it’s gorgeous. With the deep plum tunic she’s wearing, the effect is so glamorous.
‘You look like a classic movie star,’ I tell her, getting a shy smile in response.
The hotel does us proud with a dinner full of local produce including Lakeland lamb and sticky toffee pudding. We’re almost ready for a nap by the end of the meal but Caroline wakes us up by clinking her glass with her knife and telling us it’s time to adjourn to the library. We carry our full tums through the hotel lobby and take our seats with the book on our laps. Most of us have little post-its inserted to talk about paragraphs and pieces we have particularly enjoyed.
‘I don’t mind kicking off the discussion,’ says Ed. ‘And you may find this surprising but I was most fascinated by the historical element. Every time the narrative veered towards modern day, I just wanted to be back in Wordsworth’s time or hearing more about Fletcher Christian.’
‘I feel the same,’ added Caroline. ‘If this is true, the author must have spent months researching it — there were details I would never have known.’
My ears prick up and I take a quick glance at my bingo sheet, which I’ve hidden at the back of the book. I don’t have that phrase but a look up at Sarah tells me she has and she gives me a tiny smile.
‘Well, I’m going to surprise you too,’ says Peter. ‘I loved the crime-solving aspect, and I really thought I knew who’d done it but the ending was a complete shock.’
I can’t actually concentrate on the discussion now as I’m so obsessed with winning this bingo game. I catch a glance of Patty out of the corner of my eye and she has a hand clamped over her mouth trying to hold back her laughter.
‘Angie, what did you think?’ asks Sarah.
Immediately, I wonder if this is a trick question and she’s simply trying to get me to say one of the expressions on her list. I try desperately to think of something that Patty won’t have. I ponder some possibilities:
‘I loved the characters and felt I really knew them.’
‘I thought she really brought the landscape to life through her descriptions.’
‘The segue between the two timelines really worked for me.’
I doubt Patty would have thought of using the word segue, but I also know that she hasn’t read any of it so decide to read out a section that I thought was beautifully written. I do just that and see Sarah gleefully ticking something off her sheet. How could that have happened? Wanting revenge, I ask her how she found the book. She hesitates, knowing the stakes are high at this stage then says, ‘I’m not sure I’m qualified to critique really, being so new to the group. I’d rather just listen to your views.’
Aha! She thinks she’s been clever but the newbie at book clubs often professes their inadequacy — it’s as big a cliché as any other and I have it on my list. I cross it off and know we’re neck and neck.
‘The other thing I thought,’ says Peter in a slow contemplative manner as Sarah and I have pens poised, ‘is that the lead character was completely believable.’
‘BINGO!’ I shout, as does Sarah and everyone else in the room. It’s followed by howls of laughter.
‘You’ve been playing us,’ I say, realising what has happened.
‘Patty told us what we had to say.’ Caroline is wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Watching you two getting more and more competitive was hilarious.’
I hit Patty with the book this time and claim a GT for both Sarah and myself. We regroup and discuss the book properly, after which we retire to the bar. I quickly become engrossed in a conversation about Mum’s bucket list with Peter and Ed while Patty, Caroline and Sarah chat together.
We all head to bed shortly after midnight and as I get to my room, Patty tells me she has something to tell me. I invite her in and sit on the bed, taking off my boots as she clears her throat and then begins.
‘I was talking to Sarah about the day you got stood up.’
My shoulders drop.
‘I really wish you hadn’t,’ I tell her. ‘It’s private.’
‘It’s probably a good job that I did.’ Patty sits down beside me and takes hold of my hand.
I hold my breath, saying nothing. Patty gets out her phone and brings up pictures of the New Year party.
‘I was telling Sarah about Jack and showed her this photo of the four of us together. She instantly pointed at Michael and asked whether he was the man you’d been waiting for. I told her it was and she said she recognised him. He came into the café a couple of times later that week with a woman, someone he looked very close to.’