CHAPTER 23 #2
‘Prichard Knowles!’ he answered.
‘It’s Pat.’
‘How are you?’ he began. ‘I’m on the B2066 on my way to Brighton.’
‘I’m in the village hall. Congratulations on your blue rosette.’
‘Oh, I know! Can you believe it? Stone the starlings! You could have knocked me down with a cricket bat, I was so thrilled. A rosette, an actual rosette. I know it’s blue and not red, but I don’t think I’ve ever won one of those.
Dorna was first, but then her work was truly well done and fine, and Margot was third.
Fi was a little annoyed not to be placed, but, you know, we can’t all be winners. ’
‘Well, yes, we can’t all win, this is true,’ replied Pat. ‘I wanted to ask a question.’
‘Fire away.’
‘The photograph of all of us on the wall by the door.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, my painting’s not in it.’ As she said it, Pat realised quite how childish she sounded, but there was no getting away from how strange the situation was.
‘Oh, I know,’ said Prichard. ‘I meant to call you to warn you about that, but then I got distracted. Don’t be too cross. Jacqui thought it pulled focus too much and it wasn’t in keeping with the idea of Westlinke in bloom, which was the brief, I think.’
‘I wasn’t aware we were given a brief.’
‘Well, anyway, sorry about that.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘No, it’s Dorna’s.’
‘How could it be Dorna’s?’
‘She was the one who cut your painting out of the photo.’
‘She did what?’
‘She offered to help make it disappear and Jacqui accepted. It’s on the WhatsApp.’
‘I never seem to get the WhatsApps.’
‘I can add you if you want?’
‘Thanks, but don’t worry,’ sighed Pat. ‘It’s bizarre. How did she do it? It was right in the middle of the photo.’
‘She’s incredible with a computer, apparently.
She cut your picture out and then stuck the photo back together again; it’s like an extreme form of Photoshop.
You can literally do anything these days.
No one puts anything on their social media, according to Dorna, without it being filtered or doctored or tweaked.
I mean, look at Fi. She looks much better on the phone than she does in the flesh. ’
‘True,’ replied Pat.
Once she’d hung up, she sat on the steps of the village hall, deep in thought.
She was surprised by how upset she was at her painting being edited out of the art club photograph.
How dare they! Especially as the quality of their own work was so underwhelming.
She’d been cancelled by mediocrity, and it was galling.
She laughed at herself and looked up across the green.
She shouldn’t leave Sue and Sofia in the pub on their own for too long; they had both come to see her after all.
As she stood up, she saw two figures walking across the grass towards the pub.
The first she recognised instantly. The dirty-blonde hair, the worked-out physique, the smart tight blue shirt opened just lower than necessary, the wide smile and those pale-blue veneers.
He was striding with confidence, his arms swinging, his hips swaying as he pointed towards the pub door.
He was flirting for sure. Pat stood still.
If she didn’t move, he wouldn’t see her.
He was too absorbed in his conversation. But who he was with?
The second man was a bit taller, but not much.
His suit appeared oddly dark in the bright, shiny light of a spring day.
A chocolate-brown shirt and matching tie that looked as if they’d been bought together in a package.
Pat caught a glimpse of a golden sleeper earring as they got closer.
Marcus? What was he doing with Derek? They seemed friendly, if a little awkward.
Pat thought it interesting that Marcus was wearing a tie and not his usual casual attire.
It looked like a first or maybe second date.
His body language was tense, while Derek’s …
well, he was shameless, that was for sure!
First Fi, now Marcus. Maybe Malcolm had kicked him out and he needed a new place to stay.
It wouldn’t be long until he’d weaselled his way into every house in the village.
She watched them walk through the door of the pub, and gave herself a couple of minutes before following them in.
Sue and Sofia were sitting in the far corner, at the table with the banquette seat and the row of stools, as favoured by Dorna Braddon.
Sue was sipping a glass of red wine and Sofia had a half-pint of lemonade with plenty of ice.
The table was laid for lunch, with burgundy-coloured mats and matching paper napkins.
In the centre was a pale wicker basket holding slices of white baguette and a plate of individually wrapped servings of Kerrygold butter.
‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ said Sue as Pat sat down. Pat looked from Sue to Sofia; what had they been talking about? ‘We’re a grandmother,’ grinned Sue. ‘To coin a phrase.’
‘Margaret Thatcher?’ queried Pat.
‘Well, why not!’ Sue raised her glass of wine. ‘You must be thrilled!’
‘I am,’ agreed Pat.
‘Does it make you feel old, Mum?’ said Sofia, with a shrug of her shoulders.
‘It makes me feel very happy, actually. Although I do think you should tell your husband before you start telling my friends,’ said Pat, pouring herself a glass of fizzy water.
‘A, Sue is not just any friend, and B, I want to tell Adam to his face, at the right moment, in the right place, so he’ll always remember it. It will be amazing to video for my Insta too.’
‘I am extremely happy for you,’ said Sue, tapping Sofia’s lemonade with her own glass. ‘And I for one think you will make a wonderful mother.’
Sofia and Pat looked at each other and smiled, both of them reliving last night’s reconciliation.
Pat’s expression changed suddenly, and she took a quick intake of breath.
‘Don’t both look at once, but over there,’ she said nodding her head in their direction, ‘Derek is having lunch with our local barfly. I wonder if Malcolm had enough of the swinging shenanigans and told him to leave him and Fi alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if Derek is already on to his next victim. ’
‘Derek!’ Sue spun around and stared straight at him.
‘For Christ’s sake, Sue! Be discreet,’ Pat hissed under her breath.
‘So that’s the little shit in the flesh.
I fancy going over and giving him a piece of my mind.
He ruined Henry’s life, rinsed him for cash, and now he’s laughing and flirting away as if he hasn’t got a care in the world.
In fact …’ Sue stood up, but Pat was quicker, grabbing her jeans and pulling her back down into her seat.
‘Please! Watch and see what they’re doing,’ she said. ‘I can’t really look, as he knows me, and last time he saw me, he threatened me with a bottle of Chardonnay in a utility room. Oh, and probably broke into my office.’
All three of them leant over the table, backs rounded, with Sue occasionally glancing sideways to give a running commentary.
‘They’re drinking large glasses of Aperol spritz,’ she said. ‘And studying the menu.’
‘Do they look like close friends?’
‘It’s a bit touchy-feely. They’re definitely … into each other, I’d say. But Derek is really trying it on.’
Sophia chimed in. ‘Does the other guy seem into—’
‘Ladies!’
‘Oh my God!’ Pat leapt in her seat and pulled back from the table. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘The bar? I’ve brought you some menus.’ Johnno was standing behind Pat, clutching three laminated sheets of paper to his chest. ‘I’m afraid we’re out of the roast pork,’ he said as he handed them round.
‘But the chicken and the beef are still available. Do you want to order now, or do you need more time?’ He squatted down next to Pat, so close she could smell a waft of Lynx Africa.
‘That’s him,’ he said out of the side of his mouth, mumbling through his facial hair.
‘Who?’ Pat asked.
‘The bloke who whacked your bloke the other day. Remember? You were asking about it the last time you were in here.’
‘Right, thanks,’ nodded Pat. ‘His name is Derek, I know that now. And do you know Marcus?’
‘What, the bloke with the earring?’
‘Yes.’
Johnno turned slowly and looked across the room. ‘I never asked him his name, actually. He lives next door and comes in every day. His drinking is single-handedly covering the pub’s energy bill,’ he added, half grinning. ‘I’m digging the chocolate-brown shirt.’
‘You are?’ asked Sofia, slightly astonished, from the other side of the table.
‘Very retro,’ said Johnno
‘Do you know what he does?’ asked Pat.
‘Seemingly very little,’ he said with a shrug.
They ordered their food and tried valiantly not to be distracted by what was going on in the opposite corner.
Poor Sue was forced to brief Pat on every nuance and every rattle of laughter.
There was one moment when both men disappeared, only to return a few minutes later, wafting in a gust of cigarette smoke, fresh from their fag break.
‘Phew,’ said Pat. ‘I was worried they’d gone!’
Shortly after, there was the sound of raised voices and laughter. It took all her willpower not to turn around.
‘What’s happening?’ she hissed.
‘I think they’re leaving,’ said Sofia. ‘Derek’s thrown down his napkin and is heading for the door, and the other guy is finishing off his third Aperol spritz and marching after him. Oh, he’s just paused at the bar … Now he’s pulled out a wad of cash and seems to be paying the bill.’
‘That’s a big wad,’ said Sue.
‘It doesn’t surprise me that Derek doesn’t pay for dates,’ said Pat.
The two men were talking animatedly as they left, but with all the noise in the pub it was hard to make out what they were saying.
Pat, Sofia and Sue watched, their faces close to the window, as the pair stood and finished their conversation outside.
They parted ways with a brief hug, then Derek headed for Mal and Fi’s house, no doubt to the frantic twitching of Bev’s curtains.