Five French Hens - Judy Leigh

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      ‘Gus!’

      Jen glanced from the black and white cat to the open curtains: she had left the top window open and the neighbour’s cat had clambered through. She blew air from her mouth in relief as Gus scuttled towards the front door to be let out. She turned the key and opened the door, watching him rush out into the quiet street.

      Jen decided she needed to settle her nerves: she’d make herself a cup of strong tea; perhaps she’d have toast and marmalade. She sank onto the sofa and put her head in her hands.

      She’d left a window open. It was a small gap, but a burglar could have easily crawled through into her home. She was by herself, vulnerable, prey to all sorts of dangerous people.

      At once she wanted Eddie to hold her in his arms, to pull her to him and tell her she was safe. If he’d been there, she wouldn’t have been so afraid. He’d have stood up to a burglar; he’d have been strong.

      It was suddenly crystal clear. She loved Eddie; she needed him. They should be together. Not only would she be safer, but she wouldn’t be alone. It made complete sense. Eddie was right, she knew it. He was sensible; he was just what she needed in her life: stability, comfort. Jen took a breath. She knew what she had to do, and at once. She reached for her mobile and dialled his number. Eddie answered almost immediately, his voice a crackle, concerned and reliable.

      ‘Jen? It’s half past seven. Are you all right, my dear?’

      ‘Yes.’ That was the word she wanted to say. Jen was breathing rapidly. ‘Yes, Eddie – I’ve never been better. And if you want to ask me again, that’s my answer – yes.’

      He was quiet for a moment and then he chuckled softly. ‘Are you saying you’ll marry me, Jen? Really? Well, that’s wonderful news.’

      She was smiling, her face stretched with happiness and relief. The warmth in his tone told her she had made the right decision.

      ‘Eddie… yes, I’m sure.’

      ‘Excellent. This calls for a celebration. Can you meet me in the café on the seafront – Coffeelicious? It opens at nine. I’ll buy you breakfast.’

      Jen nodded, her heart pounding. She realised Eddie couldn’t hear her, so she added, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ and beamed again at the sound of the word.

      ‘Oh, then I’ll see you soon, my dear,’ Eddie whispered. ‘And I’ll bring the ring along, shall I?’

      3

      The five women emerged dripping from the pool, their skin tingling from the exercise. They formed a line unintentionally, five different heights and shapes wearing five different colours. Tess Watkins, blonde hair tied back in a little plait, was short and curvy in a turquoise blue tankini; Rose Grant, her grey-brown hair almost black now drenched with water, was in a sensible navy-blue swimsuit, neat and tidy. Della Donavan clambered out next, shapely in an orange floral swimsuit, her frosted dark curly hair glistening with pearl droplets of water. Then the smallest of the five, Jen Hooper, her shoulder length chestnut hair clipped to her head, wet tendrils dripping, her body slender and delicate in a cream swimsuit. Finally, towering over them all, Pam Marshall stood tall and willowy in a racer-back black swimsuit with blue and red stripes down one side. With her blonde pixie cut flattened against her head and her hands on her hips, she was athletic and broad shouldered. The friends giggled together, shaking water from tired limbs, moving towards the changing rooms, water dripping from their swimsuits. Tess’s voice rose over the laughter. ‘Well, Kathy certainly made us work hard today. I think we deserve some refreshment. Who’s up for a coffee and a slice of cake?’

      Rose nodded. It was better than being home alone. Pam breathed out. ‘I’m gasping for a cool drink.’

      ‘I’m not surprised.’ Tess’s voice was mock-indignant. ‘You were doing aqua aerobics for the five of us today.’

      ‘I’m worn out.’ Della puffed air from her mouth. ‘It was hard work. It’s supposed to help the aches in my bones but I’m exhausted. I thought it was meant to be gentle exercise.’

      Pam snorted. ‘Exercise should never be gentle. It’s like life – we should throw ourselves in, give it 100 per cent, grab it by the balls.’

      Jen’s face was thoughtful as she linked her fingers together and glanced at the new ring.

      Tess hooted. ‘I can think of better balls to grab.’ She flicked water from her platinum hair. ‘Did you see the young man with the dark hair and the broad chest at the other end of the pool? Tight white Speedos? Just like Patrick Duffy in The Man from Atlantis, Remember him, girls?’

      Della chuckled. ‘Oh, yes – he was very handsome.’ She nudged Pam, rolling her eyes. ‘But shouldn’t you be thinking about Alan’s balls, Tess?’

      ‘Alan knows where he can stick his balls. And his golf clubs.’

      Tess and Della turned to each other, howling with laughter. Rose’s eyes were etched with concern. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say about your husband, Tess.’

      ‘It may be, but it’s true. That man is driving me mad.’ They were in the changing rooms, sorting through their sports bags. Tess picked up her towel, flinging it around her shoulders. ‘Alan’s at golf. I’m out with my friends, free and having fun. I’m going to start by enjoying an invigorating shower. Then I’m having a massive slice of cake.’

      Pam turned to Jen, who was standing next to her, fidgeting with her hands. ‘Are you OK? You’re quiet today, Jen.’

      Jen was distracted. ‘Oh, sorry – yes, I’m fine.’ She forced a giggle. ‘I’m looking forward to something sweet and tasty in the café.’

      Tess squealed. ‘I bet. Are you still going out with that handsome man you met on the beach? Freddie or Eddie or whoever he is.’

      Jen nodded, twisting the ring on her finger. She reached for her towel and smiled.

      The table in the café was a mess: Rose wouldn’t have allowed the polished wooden one in her dining room to get in such a state. Tess covered her lips as she smiled – there were cake crumbs, paper wrappings, slops of coffee across the plastic surface. She imagined Alan’s face if he came home and their oak table was in such a state of disarray. Della swept crumbs into her hand. Pam was more concerned with finishing the contents of a second bottle of sparkling water and, when she dumped the empty container back on the table, it toppled over on its side, spattering little puddles in its wake. Rose wondered if Pam’s house was as untidy. She supposed since Pam had always been single, as far as she knew, no one had been around to complain about untidiness. But then, Pam had never had anyone to keep the house nice for either, she thought. Jen was unusually quiet, staring at her fingernails.

      Della dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin and dropped it on her plate. ‘That was such good cake. Nearly as good as I make myself.’

      Pam sank her teeth into her slice. ‘We deserve a treat.’ She thought for a moment. ‘It’s a shame we haven’t got a bottle of wine or two. I haven’t had a good celebration in ages.’

      ‘Are you thinking of a girls’ night out?’ Tess chewed at a fingernail. ‘What a lovely idea. We could get all dressed up, go somewhere nice…’

      ‘Dancing…’ Della suggested.

      ‘Clubbing,’ Tess offered. ‘There are some really great places for a rave-up in Exeter.’

      ‘Rave-up?’ Pam spluttered, wiping her mouth. ‘What decade are you in, Tess?’

      Tess winked. ‘I don’t care as long as there are plenty of drinks flowing and some fun to be had.’

      Rose pulled a thoughtful face. ‘What about a birthday? Who’s next? I’m not until December.’

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