Not Quite Nice (33 page)

Marianne chose to ignore Sally’s barb. ‘Anyhow, I decided to try keeping both the job and the man. Eventually Ted made the decision to leave Sian and marry me. He went to Australia. We were going to set up life out there. But once he got there he realised he didn’t actually like the old country. It didn’t match up at all to his rosy childhood memories of the place, so yesterday he came back to Bellevue-Sur-Mer. We had had a romantic reunion at the Astra, which was lucky, as it led to a second jump, and saved Theresa’s life.’

‘You realise at any moment Sian will be hammering on my front door?’ said Sally.

But at that exact moment the doorbell and phone rang and Marianne’s mobile bleeped.

‘Oh help!’ said Sally.

‘I’ll go.’ Marianne strode to the front door.

‘It’s me, Ted.’ Ted called from the street. ‘I need some clothes.’

Back in the living room Sian’s voice screeched out of Sally’s answering machine. Sally was an evil bitch and her ‘spawn’ Marianne was ‘a Gorgon’.

‘Glad that’s cleared up,’ said Ted, talking over the message. ‘I’d shake your hand, Sally, but if I let go of this police blanket I’d be in danger of exposing more than a mother-in-law is entitled to see.’

Sally stepped back and turned to Marianne who was looking down at her mobile phone. ‘So you really
are
getting married?’

‘Well, there’s a first!’ said Marianne. ‘I’ve been fired by text message.’

‘Yeah. We’re hoping to have the wedding in that fancy five-star hotel where I went the night I ran off and left the blokes and the boat,’ he told Sally. ‘Cap Ferrat, d’Antibes or Martin or whichever Cap it was. Marianne and me had a little romantic liaison, there that night.’

‘Thank you, Ted,’ she said putting her hands up to cover her ears, ‘I have no desire to hear the sordid details.’

Marianne glanced at the clock. ‘Four a.m.! Isn’t it your birthday now, Mum?’

‘Oh gosh.’ Sally remembered that Tom had a treat in store for her later in the morning. ‘I think it’s time we all went to bed. In a few hours we’ve got to be on that bus.’

29

A minibus waited in the street near the Gare Maritime.

Zoe was already seated inside, decked out in her evening gown and all her jewels.

‘It’s ten o’clock in the morning, Zoe,’ said Sally. ‘We’re not going to the Prince’s ball.’

‘How do you know?’ said Zoe. ‘Actually, we’re going somewhere much better than that.’

‘I thought we were going for lunch,’ replied Sally.

‘We are heading for An Experience.’ Zoe gave Sally a salamander-type eye-roll and sat back in her seat. She looked at her watch and said sharply ‘Come along! Where is everyone?’

Faith and Alfie were heading along the seafront towards the bus, chatting seriously with William and Benjamin. Sally was very happy that she had helped make things work out for them. Last night, before Marianne and Ted arrived and dropped their bombshell, Sally had effected a terrific reunion between Alfie and Faith, and, with the help of William, created a mutual support pairing between Benjamin and Alfie, both now determined to fight their addictions together.

As to the situation between Marianne and Ted, Sally had decided there was no point putting up a fight, as they both seemed utterly set on being together.

They were sitting together now, gazing lustfully into one another’s eyes.

She turned away, looked out of the window and saw Theresa coming out of her front door, carefully double-locking it behind her. She was dressed elegantly, with all her usual abundance of colourful jewellery, but her make-up couldn’t disguise a huge purple bruise on her cheekbone.

‘Ouch, Theresa! I didn’t expect you’d be up for joining us this morning, after all that.’

‘Do you know, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Theresa said to Sally. ‘It was a long night for all of us. But, look! I’m here!’

Theresa was excited about today’s trip, and, despite the night from hell, was damned if it turned into yet another thing Brian stole from her.

Since Theresa had been rescued by a naked Ted, and Brian – or Ronald Arthur – and his partner-in-crime had been arrested and taken off to prison in the early hours, there had been many questions and lots of explanations.

While she gave the police her statement Theresa had been checked over by a police doctor. The police also brought in the locksmith who fitted another new lock.

But Theresa also had a little secret. An hour ago, when she was dressing up, ready to join the bus party, her phone had rung.

It was Jessica.

‘I’d like to make you an offer to sell us your story about living with the criminal Ronald Arthur Tate.’

‘No thanks,’ said Theresa.

‘We can offer you a substantial amount of money,’ she added.

When Theresa heard the figure, she accepted, thinking of the money as compensation for all that Brian had stolen.

She turned to Sally. ‘I hope
you’re
all right?’

‘In so many ways, we’re both so lucky,’ said Sally. ‘And I’m rather nervous but excited about the mystery tour!’

Tom had been organising this special surprise for Sally’s birthday since the day he arrived. Theresa already knew about one part of it, having been asked over the phone a few days ago to contribute a little of her expertise.

She kissed Sally a happy birthday and climbed back towards the rear seats of the bus.

Then the driver, finishing off a cigarette out on the street, asked Sally to be sure and to check everyone off the list.

Sally knelt on the front seat and facing back into the bus, called out everyone’s name.

‘William, Benjamin,’ she said.

‘Flobbabdobb!’ said Zoe. ‘Fluddububbb!’

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Benjamin nudged William.

‘Sounds like she’s still having trouble with the new lips.’ William arched his brow as he spoke.

‘Ted, Faith,’ Sally continued calling out her list and ticking off.

‘Weeeeeed!’ said Zoe, falsetto, reverting to her normal alto to say: ‘And I think the little house knew something about it! Don’t
you
?’ before singing ‘Bill and Ben, Bill and Ben, Flowerpot men’.

‘Zoe!’ snapped Sally. ‘Will you please shut up!’

When Sally finished her roll call, she instructed the driver to leave.

He stubbed out his cigarette and slid the door shut, then made his way round the front and climbed into the driver’s seat.

As he turned back, leaning his arm along the front seat, preparing to reverse out of the space, he cursed.

Someone was banging very hard on the back window.

Sally turned to take a look.

Someone was making their way around the bus.

A fist hammered on the window beside her.

‘You’re not going to leave without me, I hope, my darling, even though I am a total fool.’

Carol, as impeccably dressed as ever, climbed in to the front seat, next to Sally.

‘Shove up,’ she said. ‘Happy birthday, darling! May I beg all your forgiveness for my abrupt departure. But now I’m back!’

The journey to Villeneuve-Loubet was taken up with Carol’s tale of her escape from Brian.

She and Brian had driven as far as Naples, heading for Sicily, which Carol had always thought would be a very romantic place.

‘We were on a car ferry, waiting for it to depart. Those Italian ferries are mad, they let you on and then just sit there in port for three hours. So we’d checked out the cabin and we were heading down to the bar. I went into the ladies’ powder room . . .’

‘Oh, really, did you?’ said Zoe. ‘Wrong door?’

William kicked her in the shin and Zoe said ‘Ouch’.

‘Anyhow the door to the men’s room and the ladies’ room were miles away, on this boat, but strangely, once you got inside, they were right next door and had a small gap at the top of the wall for ventilation.

‘I was at the basin washing my hands, when I heard Brian’s whole phone call. He was telling some friend how he was planning to “do me in”. When it was dark and we were miles out to sea, he was going to take me up on the deck, kill me and throw me overboard. Then the plan was that he’d get all of my vast supplies of money out of the bank, using my card and ID. Well, as you all may know, I don’t actually have that much money, so that part didn’t bother me considerably, but as to the dying part, well, I’ve been through quite enough in my life to realise that I have no desire to depart this world quite yet.’

‘So how did you escape?’ asked Theresa.

‘I told him I wanted to get myself dressed for dinner and needed an hour or so on my own – a little woman time.’

Zoe opened her mouth; Benjamin raised his eyebrows to silence her.

‘I said I’d see him in the dining room at nine. The ship was due to sail at eight, and it was a few minutes before that. So I went to the cabin, grabbed my things and rushed down to the place where the last cars were driving on and then, well, I simply strolled off the boat. Immediately went to an ATM and got all my money out of the bank, which wasn’t much – a few hundred euros. I didn’t have enough money for a flight so I sat at the railway station all night and got on the first train out. I would have phoned but my phone disappeared on the day we left Bellvue-Sur-Mer. Last time I remember having it was at a service station while we were filling up with petrol in Ventimiglia. I had to change trains all over the place. It’s taken me days, but anyhow I got here in time for this celebration, so . . .’

There was a long silence which no one knew how to break.

In the end it was Carol who spoke again.

‘You may or may not know that, while I was away, David left me. And I don’t blame him. We hadn’t been getting along so famously lately. Plus, he always wanted to go back and live in New York, so I suppose me being such a fool over that crook, and taking his precious car was as good a reason as any.’

‘I could think of another . . .’

Zoe suddenly cut short her sentence and looked very pained.

The bus turned off the main road into the little town of Villeneuve-Loubet.

‘There’s Tom!’ cried Sally. ‘Now we might find out his big surprise.’

Tom was standing in the main road, directing the traffic down into a car park, behind which stood a large tent. He was wearing a pink-and-gold version of a ringmaster’s costume.

‘I am so excited I could explode,’ said Zoe.

‘I wish you would,’ said William.

Everyone climbed out of the bus and admired the huge tent.

A large circus-style banner fluttered over the entrance. It read : ‘Les Dames de Bellevue!’

Tom took his mother’s hand.

‘My first big exhibition,’ he said. ‘You’re getting the private view. It opens to the public and critics this afternoon.’

Sally was led into the tent, followed by the other ladies, and William, Benjamin and Alfie.

Everyone gasped as they looked around.

The tent was decked out in bright circus-like colours, with ribbons and streamers dangling and circus marches pumped out of hidden loudspeakers.

The centrepiece was a shiny great tableau like the
Last Supper
, in which all those gathered round the table were the inhabitants of Bellevue, with Sally in the centre, sitting behind a shiny red table laden with all the dishes they had all cooked in the Cookery Club.

In a roped-off gallery on one side of the tent stood a huge colourful sculpture of Sally wearing a pir­­­ate costume at the helm of a speedboat, with Ted, complete with kangaroo legs, clinging on to the engines at the back.

Next to it another vibrant statue, this time it was a fat woman with lots of eye make-up, in turquoise earrings and a kaftan, wearing an apron and a wielding a frying pan.

‘That’s you!’ said Tom to Theresa, who wasn’t quite sure how to take the compliment.

The other side of the tent had a partition wall which was hung like a conventional art gallery with huge paintings of Zoe, naked.

‘The result of our so-called “dirty weekend”,’ said Tom. ‘I got dirty with paint while Zoe bravely bared all, for hours on end, allowing me to paint her.’

‘Anyone else ever made an exhibition of themselves?’ cried Zoe, posing fully clothed in front of her naked self.

‘I heard about your ordeal last night,’ said Carol quietly to Theresa. ‘I am so sorry. I feel somewhat responsible.’

Theresa squeezed Carol’s gloved hand. ‘Don’t be silly. We were both stupid fools who should know better.’

There was a roll on the drums and Tom stood on the central podium.

‘And now,’ Tom indicated a row of waitresses who emerged through a flap in the tent, ‘As this exhibition is taking place in the birthplace of the world’s greatest chef, Auguste Escoffier – pardon me, Theresa, but I’m sure you won’t disagree that he was the top – we are all going to have some champagne and, to celebrate my darling mother’s birthday, I propose the perfect dessert: Peach Melba!’

Theresa and Sally took a glass and a dish each from the proffered trays and perched on the red velvet circular banquets in the middle of the tent.