Time since last Internet usage: 2 weeks, 5 days, 5 hours, 58 minutes and 10 seconds
Trish’s yoga class is unlike any I ever attended in London. The poses are obviously the same, and Trish’s gentle prodding and pulling of my limbs into the right positions is familiar, but the eclectic mix of attendees is certainly very different. It seems every woman, and at least one dog, along with a couple of token males, has come to the village hall. Yet, perhaps more surprising than seeing Liz and Gerry in matching Lycra, is the fact that after the class there’s complimentary tea and coffee with Bourbon biscuits. No wheatgrass smoothies or super berries in sight.
‘So, how did you enjoy it?’ asks Jenny, who, after I’d spotted her earlier, is the last person I want to see.
‘I really enjoyed it,’ I say stretching my arms around. ‘I’ve had a busy day of decorating. You been working hard all day, have you?’ I say, rather more accusatory than I meant.
‘Oh, um, I worked this morning.’
‘Ah, yes, I thought I saw you up our way this afternoon,’ I say as if I’m an amateur sleuth cracking a case.
‘Yes, I came to see Jack. Ah, you must be Rosie,’ she says, relieved to see my sister, who’s joined us.
‘I am indeed, nice to meet you . . .’
‘Rosie, this is Jenny. She’s a mobile hairdresser,’ I add helpfully, choosing to leave out that she’s also Jack’s fancy woman, as I wouldn’t be able to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
‘Oh great,’ says Rosie, ‘I’m in desperate need of a cut.’
Jenny looks as if she’s studying Rosie’s hair, which looks pretty pristine in her neat ponytail. She then looks at mine, which makes me feel self-conscious as I can’t remember the last time I had it cut. It probably looks even scruffier than usual now that it’s scraped back into a messy bun. I pat it down a little as, thanks to the yoga, it’s now half fallen out and sweaty, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got paint spots in it too.
‘Perhaps I can come over next week. I’m over your way a lot.’
I grit my teeth. She sure is.
‘Add me as a Facebook friend – I’m Jenny Chops Chapman – I’m the only one.’
‘Oh, right,’ says Rosie, looking at me. ‘We don’t have the Internet at the moment . . . You know, because of the renovation.’
‘I’ll give you my mobile number and you can text me.’
She shakes her head again.
‘You don’t have a phone? What, neither of you?’ she says, looking at us as if we’re from the Dark Ages.
‘No signal,’ I say, lying.
‘Of course,’ says Jenny. ‘Well, how about I leave a list of free appointments with Liz at the post office and you can tell them to let me know if they’re any good.’
‘Perfect, thank you,’ says Rosie.
I make a mental note to go out. As friendly as Jenny is, I don’t want to hear her gossiping with Rosie about her boyfriend.
‘So, aside from the lack of phone signal and Internet, how are you finding it up here? Everyone friendly enough?’
I’m about to leave Rosie to the conversation, when Gerry yanks her off to the side, and I feel that I can’t be rude and leave Jenny on her own.
‘It’s been really good,’ I say. ‘I’m going to be sad to leave in a week or so.’
‘You’re not staying? I thought you’d bought the place.’
‘That’s Rosie, my sister. I’m just here for a few weeks, taking a break before I head back down to London.’
‘Ah, that’s a shame. It’s nice to have some new blood in the village. Gives us all someone to gossip about.’
I look a little startled.
‘Don’t worry, most of the village are talking about Alexis, but that’s because you girls have been keeping yourselves to yourselves. That is until now. Now we’ll be talking about your doggy style.’
I look even more startled.
‘You know, your downward-facing dog,’ she giggles a little huskily. ‘I’m only joking. Besides, I’ve taken a hairdresser’s oath, you know; I don’t discuss other people’s gossip.’
She winks and I don’t believe her for a second.
‘So, I must run, I’ve got a hot date tonight. But hopefully I’ll see you at the barn dance.’
‘Did someone say barn dance?’ says Liz, butting into the conversation.
‘I’ve put a poster up on the noticeboard about it. Have you got your tickets yet, ladies?’ she says, eyeballing Jenny and me.
‘I’ve got mine,’ says Jenny. ‘I found the best little black dress in Newcastle last month, thought it was perfect the moment I laid eyes on it. Think I’ll have to dye my hair a dark red to set it off,’ she says pulling at her ponytail.
‘And you, Daisy. You and Rosie will be coming, won’t you?’
I vaguely remember having seen the flyer in the mailbox, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it as I’d been looking at Jack’s scrawled note on the back.
‘When is it?’ I ask.
‘It’s Friday night. There’re only a few tickets left, so make sure you hurry,’ says Liz waltzing off as quickly as she came.
‘You have to come. A barn dance might sound dull, but trust me, there are always fireworks. I’ve got to run. Date won’t wait,’ says Jenny giving me a friendly tap on the shoulder as she leaves. If she was going on a date with anyone but Jack I’d probably have marvelled at how lovely and friendly she was, but I can’t bring myself to.
‘Did you enjoy the class?’ asks Gerry as I walk up to her and Rosie, helping myself to a cup of tea as I do so. No one else seems in a hurry to be leaving the yoga, and I get the impression that the social after is as big a draw as the workout.
‘Yes, Trish is a great teacher.’
‘That she is,’ Gerry says nodding.
‘Listen, I’m going to get some cash out while we’re here as Gerry and Trish have talked me into buying tickets for the barn dance. Sounds like it could be fun. I thought I’d give Rupert a call from the phone box too. Will you be all right here on your own?’
‘She won’t be on her own, I’ll look out for her,’ says Gerry.
I’d actually much rather be on my own than grilled by Gerry, but I smile politely.
‘So, lovey, how are you getting on at the farm? Seen a lot of Jack around?’
‘Not recently, he’s been away for work, I think.’
‘Ah, his work,’ she says leaning in and sidling up a bit closer to me. ‘Has he told you what he does, per chance?’
‘No,’ I say, ‘what does he do?’ I wouldn’t usually indulge in such gossip, but I’m desperate to know.
‘I don’t know. No one does. He’s right secretive that one,’ she says tutting. If I weren’t so desperate to know, I’d probably admire the fact that he’s managed to keep his life so private from nosy Gerry and Liz. That must take some skill.
I look out the window to see how Rosie is getting on. I see her hang up the phone and start to cry. What’s going on with Rupert? Despite her calling him every couple of days they haven’t talked about what happened; why he came up or why he left so suddenly. If that was my husband, I’d have driven back down to the flat to have it out with him by now, but Rosie seems to have thrown herself into the DIY instead. I’ve been trying not to get involved, but I don’t think I can hold out much longer. If only I had the bloody Internet I could just drop him an email to get him to come up and see her.
The poster for the barn dance catches my eye, and I suddenly wish he’d come to it. Perhaps getting them together on neutral turf will be just what they need.
‘Have you got any extra posters?’ I ask Gerry, pointing at the wall.
‘We’ve got stacks of them. Liz always goes overboard. Just take that one, I’ll replace it.’
‘Thanks, Gerry.’
I unpin it from the noticeboard and, nabbing a pen from a sign-up sheet near the entrance, I scrawl a quick note as close as I can to Rosie’s distinctive loopy handwriting.
Ru,
I miss you. Please come to this so we can talk. I’m sorry for everything.
xx
‘Gerry, I don’t suppose I could pop this in the post now, could I?’ I say walking back over to her. I pull my purse out of my bag to look for some change for a stamp.
‘I can take it and post it first thing tomorrow.’
‘Great,’ I’m about to hand it over, when I realise a glaring error in my grand plan. ‘Bugger, I don’t have an envelope.’
She goes over to the small office of the village hall and pulls me one out. ‘There you go.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, smiling.
I quickly address it the best I can. With them living in the penthouse of their building, the address is easy to remember.
‘I don’t know the postcode.’
‘I’ll look it up for you,’ says Gerry, helpfully.
‘Thank you, that’s super kind.’ OK, so living in a tiny village might mean you don’t have any privacy, unless your name is Jack, but they make up for it with helpfulness.
Gerry tucks my envelope in her bag and wanders off.
‘You look miles away,’ says Trish as she walks up to me.
‘I think I was,’ I say bringing myself back into the room.
‘You and Rosie did well with the yoga. I hope that you’ll come back again?’
‘Absolutely. I mean, I’m not here for very much longer, but while I’m here I will.’
‘That’s great. So are you coming to the barn dance on Friday?’
‘That seems to be the hot topic of conversation at the moment.’
‘Well, there aren’t many occasions to get all dressed up. I mean, the Black Horse doesn’t really have a dress code.’
‘So everyone goes all out?’
‘Oh yes,’ she says, her eyes sparkling. ‘Well, I wear jeans and a shiny top, but I even put make-up on.’
‘Wow,’ I say, stroking my face and wondering when it was that I stopped putting mine on every morning.
‘Hope you’ve got some glad rags with you.’
‘Actually, I do,’ I say, thinking through my unsuitable suitcase full of clothes that I brought with me. ‘Will a tunic dress and leggings do?’
‘Absolutely. To be honest, anything goes, except the usual fleeces and hiking boots. It gets hot and sweaty in here with all those bodies, and the boots aren’t conducive for dancing . . .’
‘Good tip.’
‘Well, I must go and start putting the mats away as the bridge club are in at eight. But I’m so glad you came,’ she says rubbing my arm. ‘I’ll see you on Friday.’
‘See you then,’ I say, realising that the room has thinned out now and everyone’s returning their cups and saucers to the table in the centre of the room.
I hover for a minute wondering if I should help Trish, but she looks like she’s got the situation under control and I’d only get in her way. So, instead, I mutter my goodbyes and I go to find Rosie.
She’s sitting on the bench outside the village hall. The tears have stopped, but the melancholy look remains.
‘Don’t worry, sis. It’ll all be fine,’ I say, hoping that my letter in the post will be enough.