Chapter Fifty-Two
‘Wow,’ said Liam, as we walked back to the carpark. ‘I certainly felt for that unfortunate doctor.’
I giggled.
‘Yes, it’s not every day you have a psychic on your shift declaring that your dead granny is reading the Riot Act about your love life. Did you see the poor chap’s face? He was redder than a nun at a hen party.’
My stomach chose that moment to give a deafening rumble.
‘Good heavens,’ said Liam. ‘Was that your internal chef banging some pots and demanding attention?’
‘Yes,’ I said sheepishly. ‘My tummy can be embarrassingly loud. It used to make me cringe back in the day when I was a secretary – especially when in the boardroom taking Minutes. All the partners would be there, po-faced and deadly serious, while Yours Truly sat with her notebook making sounds like a bear waking up from hibernation.’
Liam laughed as he popped the locks on the Range Rover. We both climbed in.
‘I’m starving too,’ he admitted, as we buckled up. ‘Fancy a curry?’
‘It’s very kind of you to ask,’ I began, as we set off towards the exit barrier. ‘But you’ve done more than enough for me today. I feel bad that I’ve taken up so much of your time. I’d rather you go home and chill and, er, perhaps catch up with Victoria,’ I concluded.
‘If I caught up with her tonight, I dread to think what would be on the menu. She absolutely would not be up for a madras.’
‘Oh?’ I said, fishing for further information.
‘She’s more into lentils and sitting on beanbags while chanting Om Mani Padme Hum.’
Okay. So perhaps Victoria wasn’t like Mel B after all.
Maybe she was more… Julia Roberts. After all, the actress was known for her deep interest in spirituality and meditation – especially after filming Eat Pray Love and spending time in India.
Even so, whatever Victoria looked like, I had a horrible feeling she was gorgeous and graceful.
And thin. I glanced down at my tummy. Thanks to carrying two babies at the same time, it would never be flat again – no matter how many lentils eaten or yoga positions assumed.
‘Victoria sounds… interesting,’ I said, hoping that Liam would say more.
‘Why do you think that?’ he asked.
‘Well’ – I blustered – ‘other than Hetty, it’s not every day I hear about someone so… alternative.’
‘Oh, Victoria is definitely alternative.’ Liam chuckled, as if remembering a private joke.
I wondered exactly what he meant. Alternative as in New Age? Alternative as in following a vegan diet? Or alternative in ways I’d never dreamt of.
My mind immediately drifted to sex.
Oh, don’t go there, Jen.
But my brain wasn’t listening. Instead, my inner eye was now visualising Liam in bed with this woman.
Her long hair was fanned across Egyptian cotton sheets.
Did she chant his name when climaxing? I mentally shook the image away.
I didn’t want to think about Victoria’s orgasms possibly realigning her chakras.
I gazed out the window, feeling a little sour. Now why was that? Was it because I was a widow, past her sell by date, and contemplating a move to the seaside with an adopted pet by my side?
My brain began to play another image – one that wasn’t remotely saucy.
There I was. Old and grey. Sitting by the fire while a cat purred away on my lap.
Now I was putting down my crochet – a newly acquired skill from an OAP’s knitting group – to give Pusskins a fuss.
A clock ticked softly upon the wall. In the distance, waves could be heard as they broke upon the nearby beach.
A solitary seagull screeched into the lonely night.
The tick of the clock appeared to be getting louder.
Your life, it seemed to say, passing by.
I gulped. All alone, and then, you die. I gulped again.
And whether it was because this image seemed so horribly possible and – cat and beach aside – was not at all desirable, I suddenly felt frightened.
Was this my lot? Growing old alone? With only a moggy and my crochet for companionship?
Liam was now concentrating on driving. He hadn’t volunteered any further info about the luscious Victoria. For a few minutes we said nothing. The Range Rover was retracing the route back to Starlight Croft. There were still several miles to go. Nervously, I cleared my throat.
‘Erm, do you know what,’ I said tentatively. ‘If you’re still game, I’d love to go for that curry.’
‘Really?’ Liam glanced at me in surprise.
‘Yes,’ I said hoarsely. What was I doing?
For me, this was most out of character. Borderline reckless.
First, agreeing to see Abba. Second, doing a U-turn on having dinner with a man who – let’s face it – was a lethal mix of charm and danger.
‘So long as I’m not keeping you away from Victoria,’ I finished.
‘You’re not,’ Liam assured, as the Range Rover swung off the A2. We were now heading away from Meopham and travelling towards Gravesend. ‘I know just the place,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘A couple of years ago, it was crowned the best Indian restaurant in Kent. You’ll love it.’
‘Good,’ I beamed.
Knowing that Liam wasn’t in any rush to see Victoria, had perked me up. Not that I was looking for romance, obviously. But all was fair in love and enlightenment.