It Started With A Tweet(79)

‘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.’