ceiling. Sure enough, amongst the ceiling stains and peeling paint there was something that looked like a fuse box. ‘You any good with those things?’ Dolly asked, eyeing it up suspiciously.
‘Not bad,’ I said, putting my hands on my hips. That was the good thing about having a husband who didn’t give a hoot about DIY; if I’d wanted anything done around our flat I’d really had to Do It Myself. I allowed myself a small moment of schadenfreude as I imagined the drama that might occur now Ed had to cope for himself in that department. I doubted the Tart knew how to change a light bulb, let alone hang wallpaper.
‘We need a chair or something, though,’ I added after a think. ‘I’ll go back into the hall and fetch one. Do you want to stay here or would you rather come with me?’
Dolly made a dismissive noise. ‘I’m not scared of the dark, love,’ she said, a proud tone in her voice. ‘Lived through the blackouts of the war years, so I’m sure I’ll survive thirty seconds on my own in a poky little corridor.’
I smiled to myself in the darkness. I could see what Donna had meant about Dolly. Even so, I had a feeling I was really going to like her.
I returned to the hall and signalled to Donna with my phone-slash-torch. Thankfully, she and Miss Mimi were sitting on the edge of the stage. It seemed as if Donna had managed to dissuade her from rummaging around in decades’ worth of junk behind the curtain. For now, at least.
‘We found the fuse box,’ I called out. ‘I just need a chair to stand on so I can reach it.’
‘You be careful, Philippa, dear,’ Miss Mimi called back. ‘I remember how clumsy you used to be as a teenager—when you weren’t dancing, that is.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I replied and laid hold of the back of one of the plastic chairs that lined the hall and dragged it back through the door to where Dolly was standing.
‘Right,’ I said as I placed the chair under the fuse box. The ceiling wasn’t that high. I ought to be able to reach. ‘Can you shine this up there …’ I asked, handing my phone to Dolly ‘… and I’ll pop up and see if the switch has tripped.’
Dolly eyed the phone as if it was a hand grenade with the pin out, but she did as I asked and held the light steady.
I opened the tiny cupboard and found a metal box with a hinged door. However, where I’d hoped to find a nice row of circuit breakers, I found six old-fashioned fuses, the hard plastic sort which held a thin strip of wire. ‘I’m not familiar with this kind of set-up,’ I told Dolly. ‘It’s really old. Probably hasn’t been changed for fifty years at least.’
Dolly passed me my phone and I held it up to the row of chunky fuses, inspecting each one in turn. None of them seemed to be burned or broken. ‘I’m not sure what the problem is.’ I sighed. ‘I think Miss Mimi is going to have to call a proper electrician in.’
‘Ah, well,’ Dolly said philosophically. ‘At least you tried. I do like a girl who’s got her head screwed on right.’
I smiled to myself in the dark. Partly because Dolly was the only person who’d referred to me as a girl in at least a decade, partly because that was the nicest thing someone (other than Candy) had said to me in months.
When we returned to the hall, I walked up to the stage where Ruth, Victoria and Amanda were also now sitting. Nancy was standing off to the side, texting furiously on her phone. ‘I don’t think it’s the fuses,’ I said. ‘And if it is, I think you need someone who knows more about electrics than me to have a look at it.’
Amanda checked the display on her phone. ‘We’ve only got five minutes left now anyway and my battery’s about to die.’
Miss Mimi sighed. ‘I suppose we’ll have to call it a night. Sorry, everyone … I was going to get some of you long-timers doing wings.’
At this, Ruth, whose face I could see in the glow from Amanda’s phone, looked horrified, as Amanda simultaneously said, ‘I love wings!’
‘In that case,’ Donna said, hopping down from the edge of the stage, ‘I’m glad the power went out. There’s no point trying to get both your legs going in opposite directions if there isn’t a man involved along the line somewhere.’
There was a gasp of shocked laughter from the group.
‘Well, there isn’t,’ Donna said. ‘So it looks as if we’re going to retire to the pub early tonight.’
We all headed over to where our belongings were at the end of the hall and gathered them up quickly before anyone else’s battery failed and we had to scrabble around in the dark. Once we’d all changed our shoes and put our coats on we headed for the exit. At least standing in the vestibule with the doors open we had the benefit of the street lights surrounding the car park.
Nancy had ended up standing next to me, clutching her camel-coloured coat with its fur collar round her and staring into the distance.
‘Hi,’ I said smiling. ‘I had no idea you’d be here. It’s wonderful to see you again.’
Maybe the shadows from the street lights made the angles on Nancy’s face appear sharper than they really were, but when she turned to look at me there didn’t seem to be any trace of warmth in her expression.
‘Oh, hello. I’d heard you were back.’
The way she looked at me made me feel like a dead butterfly pinned and held securely on a collector’s board.
She knew.
She knew all about Ed and me. She knew all about the TV show.
This was what I’d been afraid of. This was why I’d carefully avoided all the lovely Christmas social gatherings in Elmhurst over the last couple of weeks. Because I’d been scared that even though this was my home, the place where I was supposed to belong, everyone would look at me differently now, that they’d smile at me when I went into the post office then whisper about me once I’d left. That every time they looked at me they’d be running those humiliating scenes of Ed and the Tart together on the reality show in their heads and judging me. Or worse, pitying me.
‘What do you say, Pippa?’ Donna asked as we waited for Miss Mimi to lock up. ‘We always end our Friday night tap session with a quick tipple at the Doves and you’re more than welcome to join us.’
I looked from Donna, back to Nancy and then round the rest of the group, all looking at me with expectant faces.
‘Sorry,’ I said, giving them a weak smile. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I really do have to get back.’ And then, before anyone could argue with me, I turned and dashed for my Mini.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Mimi all that night. Every time I woke up, I kept seeing her soft, wrinkly face in the light from the car park street lights, full of determination and fire.
But there’d been something else there too—a weariness, hidden down behind the feisty smile—and I couldn’t help worrying about her. It was stupid, really. I mean, she was
