Shirley and Veronica Tattersall didn’t know where to put themselves.
Carole was feeling lonely. It was something she rarely admitted to herself. If she experienced such weakness coming on, her normal resource was to take Gulliver out for a brisk walk on Fethering Beach. And it would never occur to anyone who saw her out there that she was lonely. Nobody who had a dog could be lonely, could they? It was the main reason she had bought Gulliver when she’d moved permanently to Fethering.
But the trouble was, that Monday evening Gulliver wasn’t with her. He was at the vet’s. He’d had a very messily upset stomach for the previous few days – no doubt occasioned by some noxious seaborne delicacy he had ingested on the beach, and the vet had wanted to keep him in overnight to monitor his condition. Carole was not given to sentimentality about animals, but this threat to Gulliver’s health made her realize how desolated she would be to lose him.
Her other resource when such thoughts threatened had proved unavailable that evening. She had rung through to Stephen and Gaby’s house in Fulham, early enough to have a chat with her talkative and increasingly articulate granddaughter Lily, but had been greeted by the voice of an Eastern European babysitter, announcing that her son and daughter-in-law were out. Lily and her little sister Chloe had been put to bed early and were both asleep. Would she like to leave a message? Carole didn’t.
She tried to concentrate on The Times crossword, but the clues remained intractably opaque. She zapped desultorily through a few television channels but found what was on offer even duller than usual.
And then she remembered what Jude had said about some of the choir staying on at the Crown & Anchor after rehearsal.
Both Heather and Alice went for a drink in the bar after that evening’s session. KK came too. He seemed completely to have shed the nervousness he had demonstrated at the Monday choir’s first meeting. As he relaxed, Jude warmed to him, finding beneath the rock ’n’ roll image a generous soul with genuine interest in his fellow human beings. He was just one of those people who lacked any ability to deal with the practicalities of life.
He also seemed very relaxed around Heather. Maybe, Jude conjectured, that had been the reason for his earlier anxiety. He was afraid of being seen in public with the new widow. Jude didn’t know the extent of their relationship, but there was clearly a bond between them. Good for Heather, she thought. Life with the late Leonard Mallett did not sound as if it had been a barrel of laughs. His widow deserved some time in the sun.
Waiting in the bar for the choir as they came through was Alice’s fiancé, Roddy Skelton, dressed in Wodehousian tweed. He rose from his table and his half-full pint of bitter to greet everyone. ‘Come on, my shout. Let me buy you all a drink.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ said KK. ‘You don’t even know me.’
‘Never mind. I gather most of you are going to be singing at the wedding on Saturday, so this is an early thank-you.’
‘I won’t be there,’ KK pointed out.
‘Don’t even think about it. I’m just feeling extremely jolly, and I would like to share my good humour. Now, I know Alice and Heather will be on the Pinot Grigio. What about the rest of you songbirds?’
While Roddy went to the bar with his shipping order of drinks, Jude looked across the room to see a very awkward-looking Carole enter. Knowing the situation with Gulliver, and realizing how much pride her neighbour must have swallowed to come to the Crown & Anchor, she went across to give her a hug.
‘Come on, quick. Roddy’s buying drinks.’ Jude called across to the bar. ‘Could you add another large New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc!’
‘Wilco!’
‘But I can’t accept a drink from someone I don’t know,’ whispered Carole, appalled.
‘It’s Roddy Skelton. I thought you said you met him at the funeral.’
‘Well, yes, I did, but only for a moment, and that’s hardly a close enough relationship for him to—’
‘Too late. He’s already given the order,’ said Jude. ‘Now, come and meet the choir.’
Mutely, reluctantly, Carole let herself be led across the room. ‘I know you’re worried about Gulliver,’ Jude whispered. ‘He’ll be fine.’
Carole manufactured an appropriately subdued expression. But she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t just anxiety about the dog that had brought her to the Crown & Anchor that evening. She couldn’t get out of her head the scene she had witnessed after Leonard Mallett’s funeral, and a visit to the pub offered her the perfect opportunity to monitor the interplay between widow and stepdaughter. Carole still wanted explanations.
The atmosphere in the alcove they’d all managed to cram into was, as Jude had promised, very jolly. The excitement generated by the closeness of the wedding still continued, and Heather reported to those who didn’t know that Jonny Virgo had actually been pleased by the music rehearsal the previous Friday. ‘And he’s a very hard taskmaster.’
‘Oh, goodness,’ said Elizabeth Browning, ‘don’t talk to me about hard taskmasters. When I was at Glyndebourne, we had this internationally renowned conductor who—’
Like the rest of them, Bet Harrison had clearly learned the skill of interrupting whenever the word ‘Glyndebourne’ was mentioned. She said wistfully ‘I almost wish I’d stayed with the church lot to sing at the wedding. But time, you know, is always a problem. Looking after Roddy as a single mum … well, it’s not easy.’
Jude was beginning to wonder whether Bet ever conducted a conversation without immediately bringing up the difficulties of her marital status. Still, with characteristic generosity, she told herself that the woman’s divorce was relatively recent.
‘I’m sure it’s our loss you won’t be singing,’ said Roddy with easy diplomacy. He was sitting beside his fiancée, and the two of them looked very together. Alice gazed at him adoringly. The tweed suit he wore managed to look almost as formal as the pin-stripe he’d had on at the funeral.
‘Very jolly,’ he went on, ‘being back here in the Crown & Anchor. Scene of my first illicit underage pint.’ Roddy chuckled and looked across the table to KK. ‘Are you part of the singing brigade too?’
The guitarist put down the pint of Guinness from which he had been drinking and wiped the moustache of froth off his top lip.
‘Well, I am, like, in the business of singing, dude, but I’m afraid I won’t be at your wedding gig.’
‘No worries.’
‘KK’s in charge of the choir we have here in the pub,’ Heather explained.
‘Oh, right. Gotcha.’
‘I’m, like, a professional muso,’ said KK.
‘Right.’
‘Got a band called Rubber Truncheon.’ Once again, he spoke the name in anticipation of some reaction.
‘Sorry, afraid I’m rather in the ranks of the tin ears when it comes to music. Heard of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, but that’s about it.’ Roddy took his fiancée’s hand. ‘Still, Alice is musical enough for the both of us. Let’s hope her talents, rather than mine, are passed on to the sprogs …’ For a moment he looked uncertain, before adding, ‘… if we have any.’
‘So, what do you do?’ asked KK. ‘You’re not in the theatre, too, are you?’ he added, in a tone of total disbelief.
‘Good God, no. I’d never remember the lines. No, I’m in the army.’
‘Oh.’ KK’s lip curled. Jude could see him about to voice what people who regard themselves as ‘creatives’ think of the armed forces, but he thought better of it. All he said was, ‘Well, there you go then.’
‘So how did you and Alice meet?’ asked Jude, easing the conversation back on to an uncontroversial plane.