‘And do you know,’ asked Jude, ‘whether she and Quintus left the yacht club together that night?’
‘Sorry, I’ve no means of knowing. End of an evening like that, you’re so knackered, all you want to do is get home to bed, but there are still all the glasses to be collected up and cleaned, the debris of the food to be cleared, crockery and cutlery to be put in the dishwasher. Then there’s always a hardcore of the boozy lot who want to go on drinking all night, and all you want to do is get to bed and … In answer to your question, no. I have no idea who went home with who that night.’
‘And do you know if the relationship developed?’
‘Quintus and Josie? No idea. Seems unlikely.’
‘But surely,’ said Carole, ‘in a place like this, there must’ve been a lot of gossip.’
‘Oh, sure. Yes, for the week or so afterwards, nobody talked about anything else. Plenty of sniggering in the yacht club, for sure, and I’d just started doing the odd shift at Polly’s, so I heard a lot of idle chatter there too. But then I think Quintus went off abroad again and it all died down.’
‘And the pair of them have never been seen together since?’
‘Well, I’ve certainly never seen them together since.’
‘Not even in Polly’s?’
‘Quintus used to go there from time to time, more since he’s been retired, but he’d always got Phoebe with him. And I suppose there may have been occasions that Josie was also in the café in a professional capacity when the Braithwaites came in for a coffee, but I never saw them behave to each other in any way that was unusual.’
‘So,’ asked Carole, ‘what is the verdict of the Fethering grapevine on what happened between the two of them?’
‘Both got very drunk one night and behaved in a way that was totally out of character for them.’
‘End of story,’ said Jude glumly.
‘End of that story, so far as I can tell,’ said Carole gloomily.
‘And end of the Polly’s Cake Shop story.’ Binnie sighed. ‘I can’t believe how much I miss working there.’
‘Would you really have wanted to go on with Phoebe Braithwaite as your manager?’ asked Carole.
‘No, the last month of working out my notice was a right pain from beginning to end. The lovely Phoebe had no interest in her staff … well, the members of staff who weren’t stuck-up bitches like she is. And I could see the whole thing was falling apart, and her precious volunteers were leaving in droves, but there was no way she was going to take any advice from anyone. No help from anyone either.’
‘Did you offer your services?’
‘Of course. Every time one of her toffee-nosed volunteers failed to turn up for a shift I offered to step into the breach. And every time she said, “No, I’m sorry, Binnie. That wouldn’t look right. You see, I am trying to update the image of Polly’s”.’
Jude let out a dry chuckle. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t punch her in the face.’
‘Oh, I’ve been insulted by better women than Phoebe Braithwaite. No skin off my nose. But then when it was actually my last day, the volunteers were in a worse state than usual – they’d all volunteered to go off and do other things, like go skiing or “take Gabriel to the Pony Club”. And I said to her, “Look, Phoebe, I know today’s the last day I’m being paid for, but I am prepared to come back, anytime you want, as a volunteer.”’
‘That was very generous of you.’
‘Well, I loved the place, didn’t I? I didn’t enjoy seeing it going downhill.’
‘And what was Phoebe’s reaction?’ asked Carole.
‘Oh, same old, same old. “That’s most kind of you, dear Binnie, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t work, you know, you being here as a volunteer. I’m afraid you wouldn’t fit in with Polly’s new image.” Well, stuff that, I thought, and I haven’t been back there since. Which is just as well, because I gather the place has now closed down for good.’
‘We’re not absolutely sure that’s going to happen,’ said Jude. ‘The Action Committee still have hopes of reopening it with a new management structure.’
‘I won’t hold my breath,’ said Binnie.
‘But if it were to reopen …’ Carole began tentatively, ‘under a professional manager … and with a different sort of volunteers … and you were asked to help out …?’
Jude was pleased to hear Carole’s words. They meant that she hadn’t rejected out of hand the possibility of managing the Volunteer Rota in a revamped Polly’s.
‘Who knows?’ was Binnie’s reply. ‘I’ve seen too many local Community Projects fall apart to get overexcited about the chances of Polly’s rising from the grave.’
‘Well, I hope you’re wrong,’ said Jude.
‘Oh, so do I. Nothing I’d like more than being back waitressing there … under any regime. That is, any regime but one. I’d be quite happy if Hitler or Stalin was in charge, but there’s no way I’m ever again going to work under Phoebe Braithwaite.’
Jude chuckled. ‘You’ll be all right on that score. The Braithwaites are completely out of the equation now. They have adjourned to focus their considerable energies on messing up some other charity.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
‘So if the café does reopen,’ Carole persisted, ‘you might consider working there for free?’
‘Oh yes. If it happens. It’s not the money, you see. I can manage all right on my pension. And …’ she waved around at her personal museum ‘… none of this paraphernalia is expensive. I just buy stuff I like. No, it’s the people I miss at Polly’s. I’d happily work there for free.’
‘Well, we’ll see what can be done,’ said Jude.
The old woman shook her head. ‘I’m not optimistic.’
‘Going back to another matter, Binnie …’
‘Yes, Carole?’
‘This is a long shot, but presumably from the back of this house you get a very good view of the sea?’
‘Yes, I like it. One of the reasons why we bought the place.’
‘We?’
‘Yes. I was married when I came to Fethering.’
‘Oh? And …?’ Carole put the enquiry as delicately as she could.
‘My husband died within two years of our arriving here. Pancreatic cancer. Three weeks from diagnosis to death.’
‘I’m frightfully sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, Carole. It’s been a while.’
Jude observed that Binnie didn’t wear a wedding ring.
‘No, I took it off after he died. To my mind a marriage involves two people. Take one away, it’s no longer a marriage. Also, wearing a wedding ring can inhibit other possibilities in one’s life. I didn’t want to announce to the world that I was hors de combat so far as sex was concerned.’
‘And did the plan work?’ asked Jude, with the smallest twinkle in her eye.
Binnie’s eyes twinkled back as she said, ‘I had my moments. Not love, obviously. My husband was the only one I was ever going to love, but … I had my moments.’ She looked puzzled for a moment. ‘How did we get on to that?’
‘I was asking about the view from the back of your house.’
‘Oh yes, that’s right, Carole. Yes, I love it. My bedroom faces out the back. I don’t sleep too well these days and I like nothing better than looking out over the night-time sea, watching the lights of the ships as they cross to and fro. Making up stories for them, where they’ve come from, where they’re going to, that kind of thing. And of course in the daytime I enjoy watching the little boats too. I know who a lot of them belong to, you know, from my time at the Fethering Yacht Club. There are some very good sailors round here. Some very bad ones too. Weekenders from London who buy the biggest boats they can to show how much money they’ve got while they haven’t got the first idea of how to actually sail the things. Quite funny sometimes. From my bedroom I see them leaving the yacht club moorings and then getting swept out by the current of the Fether. Haven’t a clue what they’re doing. More often than not, their first few trips end up with calls to the coastguard for someone to come out and tow them back in. Then they don’t come down to the Fethering Yacht Club so often. Take up golf at Goodwood instead, perhaps. You’d be surprised how many of those big boats moored at the Fethering Yacht Club don’t get taken out to sea from one year’s end to the next. Their owners are actually afraid to use them.’