On the Friday afternoon and all day Saturday there had been an intensive schedule of talks, panels and workshops. They had attended as many as they could and, as they sat down in a city-centre pub that evening with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, Jude spoke for all three of them when she quoted a Gary Larson ‘Far Side’ cartoon. ‘My brain’s full.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Chrissie.
‘It’s going to take me a long time to process all the information,’ said Karen.
‘It takes you a long time to process everything,’ Chrissie pointed out. ‘You still jump every time I refer to you as my “wife”.’
‘I’m afraid it doesn’t seem natural,’ Karen confessed. ‘Like all those women on Radio Four panel games constantly chuntering on about their “wives”.’
‘You can take the girl out of Fethering,’ suggested Jude, ‘but you can’t take Fethering out of the girl.’
Karen giggled. ‘I’ve a horrible feeling that’s true.’
‘What did you think about that feller talking on Rebirthing Therapy?’ asked Chrissie.
‘Didn’t convince me,’ said Jude.
‘Me neither. I thought he was a bit creepy.’
‘Alternative therapies have always attracted their fair share of creeps,’ said Jude.
Karen amended that to, ‘More than their fair share.’
‘Look at us two,’ said Chrissie, and they both roared with laughter.
‘I thought the guy who talked about Chinese Medicine for Mental Health was brilliant.’
Karen agreed. ‘They were so far ahead of us centuries ago. Treating the whole person, not separating the mental and the physical aspects. We’ve only recently caught up with the concept of holistic health.’
‘It’s something I’ve long wanted to explore in more detail,’ said Jude. ‘I think there are ideas there that I could incorporate into my own work.’
‘Me too,’ said Karen.
‘But …’ Chrissie interposed, ‘we don’t want to spend the whole evening talking shop.’
‘All right.’ Jude grinned. ‘So, how’s life in Ilkley? For you as a Southerner?’
Karen grinned too. ‘Surprisingly similar to Fethering, actually. If I thought there’d be less volume of gossip up here, I was wrong. Everyone chattering away about everyone else all the time.’
‘And we, of course,’ said Chrissie, ‘supply endless gossip-fodder. And behind it all is that great looming eternal question: “What do lesbians do in bed?”’
‘To which the answer,’ said Karen, ‘is mostly read books and listen to Radio Four.’
‘Unglamorous but true.’
‘But basically, Karen, you like it up here?’
‘Love it. Maybe part of it’s the company.’ The two wives exchanged looks.
‘My neighbour Carole believes that people “in the North” are always popping in and out of each other’s kitchens, making each other cups of tea. Like something out of Coronation Street … not of course that she’s ever compromised her middle-class eyeballs by watching Coronation Street.’
‘I suppose it is a bit more relaxed socially,’ said Karen.
‘Less class-conscious?’
‘Don’t you believe it, Jude. Ilkley is always about who gets invited to whose parties, who’s a social climber and that kind of thing.’
‘But, of course, for us,’ said Chrissie with mock-loftiness, ‘Ilkley is only a staging post.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. A staging post on the way to the nirvana of Hebden Bridge.’
‘Hebden Bridge where they have all the flooding?’
‘Floods are not Hebden Bridge’s only claim to fame. Didn’t you know, Jude, it is also the Lesbian Capital of the UK.’
‘Is it really?’
‘Yes.’ Chrissie nodded. ‘I think we should move there as quickly as possible. Whereas Karen feels …’
Karen screwed up her face. ‘I think it’s a bit obvious. I don’t think one should be too stereotypical.’
‘Heaven forfend,’ said Chrissie. ‘You and me – stereotypical!’ And they both collapsed in giggles.
Chrissie recovered first. ‘But enough of this idle banter. Jude, I know what Karen’s really desperate to hear is the latest bulletin from the front line in Fethering.’
‘Nothing much changes there,’ Jude responded, ‘as she well knows.’
‘You still got the Fethering healing franchise sewn up?’ asked Karen.
‘I seem to have plenty of work. More than I can cope with, really. And there is a new kid on the block called Jeremiah, who’s keen to set up some kind of centre for a lot of therapists to operate out of the same premises.’
‘That kind of thing can work very well,’ said Chrissie. ‘Particularly for people who’re just starting out. When I first qualified, I was attached to a centre like that in Wetherby. It was very good for me. I got lots of tips from the more experienced therapists. And when I screwed up completely … well, there was always a shoulder to cry on.’
‘But, please,’ said Karen, ‘I need more Fethering goss. I’ve been starved of the stuff. So … no juicy murders to preoccupy you and Carole?’
‘Well …’ And Jude found herself retelling the strange circumstances of Bill Shefford’s death. It was quite a relief to talk about to it to people who knew little of the individuals involved (though Karen did vaguely remember Bill from filling up with fuel at Shefford’s). It was also, in a way she did not quite like to define, a relief to be in discussion with someone other than Carole about it. Jude also found talking the narrative through helped clarify her own thinking on the case.
‘Ooh, I like it,’ said Chrissie.
‘Yes,’ Karen agreed. ‘Plenty of suspects.’
Jude twisted her lips wryly. ‘But still no proof it was murder.’
‘No, but it’s much more fun if we assume it is.’
‘Maybe.’
‘This healer guy you mention,’ said Chrissie, ‘called Jeremiah …?’
‘Yes?’
‘Tall guy … good-looking … deep voice?’
‘That’s a pretty good description. Why, do you know him?’
‘I did meet a feller like that at another healing conference. I’m talking years back.’
‘And …?’
‘And …’ Chrissie looked conflicted and exchanged a look with Karen. ‘I’m afraid I can’t really talk about it.’
‘Oh?’
‘It concerns a client I was treating at the time.’
‘Ah. Fully understand.’ It was frustrating, but when it came to matters of client confidentiality, Jude knew the rules.
‘Incidentally,’ said Karen. ‘Some people we knew in Ilkley recently moved down to Fethering.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Name of Greenford. Adrian and Gwyneth. Wondered if you might have come across them …?’
‘I know who they are. My neighbour Carole has had more to do with them than I have.’
‘Well, if you want some choice Ilkley gossip,’ said Chrissie, ‘there’s plenty about them.’
‘I’ll just get another bottle. This one seems unaccountably to have emptied itself,’ said Jude, rising to put her words into action. ‘Then you can give me all the dirt.’
When she was back from the bar and the three glasses were full of Sauvignon Blanc, she looked expectantly at Chrissie, who took a deep breath and started, ‘Well, I’m not sure whether this could be claimed by the Me Too movement or whether it’s a case of old-fashioned marital jealousy …’
‘Good opening,’ said Jude.
‘… but the Greenfords certainly got Ilkley talking.’
‘Which,’ said Karen, ‘as we’ve indicated is not a terribly difficult thing to do.’