It Started With A Tweet(58)

‘I’m sure if something had then we’d have heard it on the radio.’

I sigh. Listening to the news for two minutes every hour is hardly the same as having it at your fingertips whenever you want it.

‘You could always buy a newspaper,’ she says cheerily as she gets out of the car.

‘A newspaper? I can’t remember the last time I bought one; probably when I last moved house. A newspaper,’ I say, running it over in my mind. ‘Retro.’

‘Come on, we’ll pick one up on the way over to the pub. Give us something to do while we wait for our breakfast.’

We walk out of the car park and cross over the street to the post office and Liz and Gerry smile and give us a wave as we walk in.

‘You’re still here, then?’ says Gerry, raising her eyebrow and laughing with almost a cackle.

‘We certainly are,’ says Rosie.

‘I would be too, if I was living with a dreamy Frenchman,’ says Liz, swooning like a teenager, despite the fact that she must be well into her fifties, if not sixties.

‘You’ve met Alexis, then?’ I say, thinking how quickly everyone finds out people’s business in this village.

‘Oh yes, we met him last night in the pub. We’d gone along to watch the darts, and all of a sudden there he was. He had quite a few of the young girls racing to the loos to top up their make-up, let me tell you.’

‘Not just the young-uns either,’ says Liz, and the two women laugh a dirty cackle.

I can’t help but giggle a little too; their laughter is infectious.

‘Such a shame about him and his girlfriend, but I’m sure he’ll be back on the horse before he knows it,’ says Gerry.

‘He can ride me any day,’ says Liz.

Their cackling goes up an octave and Rosie gives me a quick wink. It seems I’m not the only one to fall a little for the charms of Alexis.

‘Not sure your Graham would be too pleased about that.’

‘Pleased? He’d be ecstatic that I wouldn’t be bothering him for a change. That’s if he even noticed.’

The two women start debating what level of affair Liz could get away with before her husband twigged, and I walk over to the newspapers. I settle on the Guardian to see what’s happened, and for when I’m truly depressed a copy of Heat! magazine to cheer me up with the gossip I’m missing, and Good Housekeeping, as, you never know, it might have some design tips for the renovation.

I meet Rosie back at the till where she’s picked up another pack of crumpets.

‘You know, it’s not just that Frenchman you’ve got to contend with, is it? You’ve also got Jack and Rodney down that neck of the woods too,’ says Liz. ‘I bet Rodney’s been very attentive to the sheep down by your fields.’

‘Is he the older farmer?’ asks Rosie as she concentrates on the chocolate bars. ‘I haven’t spoken to him yet.’

I don’t chip in that I have. I’m thinking of popping in on him over lunchtime, well, Jack said he’d be home then, and he did say I could pop over at any time to use the Internet .?.?.

‘I’m sure you soon will. But you’ve met mysterious Jack, then?’ Liz is arching her eyebrow again, as if it’s a fishing rod dangling the question into the water.

I pick up a packet of mints as if I’m not interested in the conversation.

‘Yes, he’s seen a lot of Daisy,’ says Rosie, unable to stop herself laughing over her joke about him seeing me naked.

‘Oh, has he now? He sees quite a few women, I think,’ says Liz knowingly. Gerry’s nodding her head and rolling her lips into her mouth as if she doesn’t want to say a word, even though she looks like she’s itching to. ‘I saw him last month, going into that new blonde woman’s house in Glassonby.’

I’m not too sure why that bothers me so much. I guess I got the impression that he was a bit of a hermit, and I was somehow special for getting him to write me notes. Knowing that he’s some kind of ladies’ man makes me feel a bit ordinary.

‘She’s got two kids who go to the same school as June’s grandchildren. But, apparently, she keeps herself to herself.’

Gerry tuts and for once I’m with her, wishing they had more gossip about her.

The bell over the shop goes and a young woman dressed in tight, bright Lycra walks in.

‘All right,’ she says nodding over as she heads straight for the shelves.

‘All right, Trish,’ calls Gerry. ‘Give us a shout if you need any help.’

‘Will do,’ calls the voice.

I’m desperate to press them for more information about Jack, but the two ladies appear to be keeping schtum.

‘Oh my God, are these aubergines, in May?’ we hear Trish shout.

‘Oh,’ says Liz, clapping her hands over her mouth before releasing them and giving me a big smile. ‘I almost forgot.’

She walks round the counter and leads me to the fresh produce aisle. ‘Look, aubergines.’

She passes one to me and pats it in my hand. I’m not entirely sure what to do.

‘Um,’ I say, stammering for words.

‘It’s an aubergine. We don’t usually stock out of season veg, but we got them in specially for you. Not that I read your postcard, but the words jumped out and it seemed as if you were really missing them. I imagine in London you eat them all the time.’