Sunday school children years ago. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Well, with you losing Don, and everything. You must be lonely nowadays … with your family so far away …’ Ida’s voice trails off as she finally senses Julia’s icy disapproval.
‘Missing somebody isn’t the same thing as being lonely, Ida,’ says Julia, making a valiant attempt not to punch the interfering old busybody. Violence isn’t her thing, but she’s never felt more like doing somebody a damage. The cheek of the woman! Ida’s only about sixty and she’s still got a perfectly healthy husband, even if he is a bit dull. Who is Ida to make judgements about Julia’s needs?
Ida falls silent for a moment and then rallies. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. No offence meant, and none taken, I hope?’
‘Perish the thought.’
‘Oh, good. I’m going to ask Tristram to join the scheme next. If George and Cliff are doing it, he’ll not be able to resist. The two main fish eateries round here – Cockleshell Bay and Tris’s Shellfish Shack – both giving away meals for charity? It’s a great story. I’ll get the local paper onto it as soon as it’s really up and running. But first I’m going to call a meeting for us all.’
Julia waits, holding her breath. Sure enough, here comes the blow.
‘So, anyway, I thought Andy could bring May over tomorrow? About tea time?’
The words ‘Resistance is useless’ spring to mind. Whatever Julia says, Ida will steamroller over her. She squares her shoulders. No, she mustn’t be browbeaten. Ida can’t make her invite May over to visit, can she? It’s Julia’s house and she just won’t allow it.
‘I can’t have visitors at the moment,’ she says. ‘It’s completely out of the question. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.’
Ida leans forward and looks into Julia’s eyes earnestly. Her chins are quivering with emotion. ‘But, Julia, don’t you think it’s our duty to do what we can for one another?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘That’s settled then. I’ll go and see May as soon as I leave here and let her know. She’ll be thrilled to bits, I’m sure. Tomorrow it is!’
Julia opens her mouth to argue again and then decides it’s pointless.
‘Are you rushing off to see May immediately?’ she asks.
‘Not when you’ve gone to the trouble of putting the kettle on for me. And isn’t that your famous fruitcake I see there? May will enjoy a slice of that tomorrow, too.’
‘If she comes.’
‘But why wouldn’t she? I’m sure May will be delighted to get out of the house and have a lovely chat with you.’
Julia says nothing. There are one or two excellent reasons why May might avoid visiting 60 Memory Lane, but she’s not about to share them with Ida.
Across the road half an hour later, May glares at Ida as her visitor takes the last chocolate biscuit from the plate that Tamsin fetched from the larder. Andy has taken his daughter home now – he escaped as soon as he made the two ladies a fresh pot of tea.
‘I really shouldn’t,’ says Ida, munching happily, ‘because I’ve just started going to that slimming group in the village hall and it was all going so well until I had to eat some of your lovely neighbour’s fruitcake.’
‘Lovely neighbour? Which one’s that then?’
‘Now, now. You know very well who I mean. Julia sends her love.’
‘Really?’ May frowns. It doesn’t sound likely. Sending love to May wouldn’t be on that one’s priority list. After the incident with the missing soup spoons, they’ve never been more than civil. The very cheek of the woman, insinuating that May had pinched a whole bunch of tatty cutlery. She’d had enough trouble pocketing the sugar tongs. Of course, the real damage was done while Charles was still alive. Julia never liked May’s husband. Not many people did, come to think of it.
Ida’s eyes are shining with goodwill. She’s always had this annoying habit of thinking everyone should be fond of each other just because they live in the same village, thinks May. Most of them do get on, but May prefers to choose her friends for herself.
‘Yes, of course she sent her love – why wouldn’t she? Julia speaks very highly of you.’
‘She does?’
‘Not only that, but she’s asked me to see if you’d like to pop over there for a visit tomorrow.’
‘Are you pulling my leg, Ida? Why would Julia suddenly want me to go and see her? We haven’t spoken a word to each other since Don’s funeral, and that was only in passing. Anyway, I don’t get out of the house on my own these days. I’d end up flat on my face on the cobblestones.’
Ida smiles. There’s something of the shark about her when she’s got an idea in her head. ‘That won’t be a problem. I’m sure Andy will take you across the road when he finishes work.’
‘But—’
‘Now, there’s no need to worry. He’s working in my own garden tomorrow, as luck would have it, so I can make sure he gets home in good time. Julia’s expecting you at half-past five. And if you’re lucky, she might show you some of her treasure trove. I’ve never seen so many old letters in my life.’
May is silent. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She should have snapped Ida’s hand off straight away. Those letters. All the memories just waiting for her. Can it be that her prayers have been answered? She’s never been sure about God, but it doesn’t hurt to hedge your bets, and she always likes to send up a few requests while she’s listening to the Sunday morning hymns on the radio.
Some of the words to the hymns are quite poetic, and she sings along with gusto. Her favourite is the wedding one. She likes the lines:
Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow,
Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife.
It paints such a lovely picture of marriage. Hers wasn’t at all like that, especially after May found Charles in bed in the middle of the morning with the baker’s delivery boy, if you could call a strapping nineteen-year-old a boy, but there’s no need to be cynical about the institution in general.
She rustles up a big smile for Ida. ‘Well, it sounds as if you’ve got it all sewn up,’ she says. ‘But I still can’t see why Julia would choose to invite me over? In truth, Andy told me he was anxious because she wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment. She’s turned into a bit of a hermit.’
‘I know, and it’s been a worry to us all. She hasn’t been to the morning service for months. She’s taken Don’s death very hard. They were true soul mates, weren’t they?’
May presses her lips together. She’s always hated that
