The Day She Came Back(4)
‘Well, I don’t happen to think you are gullible, I think you are whip-smart and fair. Don’t ever change, Victoria. Always be a good judge.’ Prim smiled at her.
‘I will try.’
‘But you’re going to need your wits about you for this travelling malarkey. Not everywhere is like Surrey, you know,’ Prim offered grimly.
‘Thank God for that, or there’d be no point in going!’ Victoria let herself picture the tree-covered islands that dotted the wide Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, and the way the sun glinted from the gold-domed temple at dusk in Lucknow, India. All within reach if she continued to save every penny from her job in the coffee shop in Epsom town centre and added it to the travel fund she had been accruing since the idea was first mentioned over eighteen months ago. Prim, who had been gifted her splendid house and had been left comfortably off after the death of her husband, had offered to buy her ticket, but Victoria had noted the old lady’s obvious pride when she’d declined the kind offer, preferring to save up and really earn the trip. This was her chance to spread her wings, shake off her reputation as a rather bookish introvert and to grow a new skin. Never had she felt so fired up at the prospect of anything, ever. She was determined not to fear the world beyond the walls of Rosebank, and the thought of wandering the world without time constraint or agenda was not only appealing, but also hugely romantic – and romance was something Victoria was yet to experience in any form. Was it any wonder when she was so plain?
‘Where are you girls off to this afternoon? I do hope somewhere nice?’ Prim tried, as ever, to keep the enquiry casual as she plucked a pear from her pocket and bit the top from the fruit, stalk and all.
‘I know, Daks,’ Victoria said when she saw her friend wince. ‘She does that – eats the whole apple or the whole pear. It’s gross!’
‘It’s not gross!’ Prim took another mouthful. ‘It’s prudent and economic.’
‘It’s still gross.’ Victoria pulled a face. ‘And in answer to your question, we are off to the Ashley Centre and we might grab an iced coffee from work; I need to go and see about my hours for next week.’
‘Well, have a wonderful time!’ Prim spoke with a flourish of her hand, her large emerald ring glinting in the sunlight and her mouth full of pear as she headed towards the garden room and no doubt the comfort of the wicker steamer chair, which was nearly as old as Prim herself.
‘Do we need anything while I’m out?’ Victoria rubbed sunscreen into her pale, bare arms and popped her sunglasses on her head.
‘Actually, yes.’ Prim paused and rested her elegant hand on the doorframe, calling back over her shoulder. ‘We need marmalade, and not the sort with the spindly orange peel I find so irritating. I like my peel to be chunky and visible, not hidden and apologetic. Oh, and if you see any, grab some of those glorious little Greek filo things that I should not be eating. The ones with honey and walnuts; what are they called, balaclavas?’
This time Victoria and Daksha both laughed loudly.
‘Yes, Prim, balaclavas.’
‘Well, grab me a balaclava or two.’ She smiled.
‘We shall do our best.’ Daksha nodded.
The girls closed the gate of the front path and made their way along the lane.
‘I am so glad your gran doesn’t shop online. Can you imagine? She’d think she was ordering pastries and ten balaclavas would turn up!’
‘She’s not bad for eighty-four.’ Victoria pointed out, feeling mean that they’d laughed.
‘God, no! Not bad at all. I hope when I’m eighty-four I’m as switched on as she is. In fact, I want to be like Jane Fonda, all gorgeous and still sexy. I bet she’s still having sex.’
‘Daks, I love the way you say still sexy, as though we are sexy now. I think we both know that our appeal might lie elsewhere.’
‘Oh, you mean like if a boy wants someone who can handle his tax return, he might call on you, Miss Maths Brain.’
‘Yes, and if he is struggling with an ache or pain, he might look up your number, Dr Daksha.’
Daksha sighed. ‘Well, he might have to wait a few years before I can diagnose him, particularly as I’m delaying even starting my training by coming travelling with you.’
‘What’s that tone? Delaying your training? You’re desperate to travel! But it sounds like you don’t want to come!’ Even the thought hurt.
‘Of course I do! God, you know that! It’s just that sometimes I feel I have to convince Mum and Dad every single day why it’s a good idea. They say yes, agree it’ll be life-enhancing and then, moments later, quietly drop into the conversation something about commitment, and it feels like we’re back to square one.’
‘Well, luckily, you are a grown-up and can do what you want.’
Daksha snorted. ‘Have you met my parents?’
‘You know what I mean.’
Daksha ignored her. ‘You know, I sometimes think I would like, just for one day, to walk in the shoes of those girls who are so sexy, so shiny, neat and perfect. The ones who just have to look at a boy and his pants fall off.’
Victoria threw her head back and laughed loudly. ‘Does that actually happen?’
‘You know what I mean. The way Courtney Mulholland stares at the boys and they go a bit gaga. Many’s the time I have been chatting to Roscoe or Nilesh’ – she mentioned two of the less shy boys in their maths set – ‘waiting to go into class, and Courtney walks past, does no more than glance at them, and just like that I’m invisible! It’s like she has a magic power, a superpower!’