Chapter 101
Do you like Pilates?” asks Ibrahim.
“I couldn’t tell you,” says Gordon Playfair. “What is it?”
His tour of Coopers Chase finished, Gordon is sitting with Ibrahim, Elizabeth, and Joyce on Ibrahim’s balcony. Ibrahim has a brandy, Elizabeth a G she loves Bexhill.
“It is the art of controlled movement,” says Ibrahim.
“Hmmm,” says Gordon, considering this. “Is there darts?”
“There is snooker,” says Ibrahim.
Gordon nods. “That’s near enough.”
They look out over Coopers Chase. In the foreground is Larkin Court, curtained windows in Elizabeth’s flat. Beyond that is Ruskin Court, Willows, and the convent. Then those beautiful hills, rolling to the horizon.
“I could get used to this,” says Gordon. “There seems to be a lot of drinking involved.”
“Always,” agrees Ibrahim.
The phone rings and Ibrahim gets up to answer it. He talks to Gordon over his shoulder as he goes.
“I think I’ve made Pilates sound too boring. It is very good for the core muscles, and for flexibility. At any rate, it’s every Tuesday.”
Gordon watches some of the residents pass by below, and sips his beer. “You know, I’m not kidding, but I wouldn’t know if any of these women had been here back then. Who’s to say? All those nuns. You could have been one of them, Joyce.”
Joyce laughs. “It feels like I have been for the last couple of years. Not for the want of trying.”
Elizabeth has been thinking the same as Gordon Playfair. The nuns. Perhaps that was the route they would have to go down next. It’s Thursday Murder Club tomorrow. Maybe that’s where they should start. She feels the gin beginning to work its magic. Ibrahim returns from his call.
“That was Ron; he would like us to join him for a drink. It seems Jason has gifts for us all.”