After their meringue-making lesson, the guests were treated to an ice cream demonstration. Showcasing ingredients that included thick cream, sugar, vanilla and flavourings, Daniel captured his audience’s attention when he introduced the star of the show.
‘An ice cream machine is a good investment, and enables you to produce the perfect consistency with minimum effort,’ Daniel explained. ‘This is accomplished by keeping everything well-chilled, and it is important to use fresh, high-fat dairy to achieve a luxurious texture.’
He asked everyone to suggest flavourings and nodded as choices were called out. When the ice cream reached the desired consistency, he spooned portions into individual bowls and invited the guests to add their own flavourings.
Fran stirred chocolate chips and mint essence into her ice cream, and Sally added Malibu and coconut. Bridgette scattered rum-soaked raisins and added extra rum. Daniel flinched when he tasted Ahmed’s curried banana glacé but praised him for being adventurous, then told Caroline that her strawberry and black pepper was very good.
As guests made notes, Daniel concluded with tips on storage and serving suggestions, pairing their flavours with complementary desserts and beverages.
‘Now, if there are no further questions,’ Daniel said looking around the class, ‘please gather your belongings and assemble in ten minutes. Tomas is waiting with the minibus to take you out for the afternoon.’
* * *
Waltho and Angelique travelled ahead of the guests and when they arrived in the village of Poutaloux-Beauvoir, Waltho parked his Citroën by the bridge. It was a pleasantly warm afternoon, with temperatures returning to normal for the time of year and, heading to the shady spot that had served them well last time, the pair made several trips from the car with baskets, chairs and blankets. Erecting a table, they set out chilled bottles of rosé wine and sealed boxes of bread, cheese and meats, alongside fruit and cake.
‘The river is high,’ Angelique commented as she folded cutlery into napkins. She wore bright, baggy harem pants with a smocked waist, a cotton vest and a long overshirt. Her hair hung in plaited braids, threaded with coloured beads. ‘You must warn the guests not to go near the edge. It may be slippery from all the rain.’
‘I will,’ Waltho replied. ‘The ground is still a little damp, but we have plenty of blankets with waterproof backing.’
Angelique stopped to study Waltho. Smartly dressed as always, he hummed as he worked. She held her head to one side, and her expression was puzzled as she watched him unfold chairs and plump-up cushions.
‘You’re very cheery,’ Angelique said. ‘Has something happened to lift your spirits?’
Waltho stopped what he was doing and looked at his friend.
‘As ever, you are a most perceptive person,’ Waltho began. ‘I don’t know what’s happened, but I think I am finally accepting that life goes on, after death.’
‘Your anger is lifting?’
‘Yes, perhaps it is.’
‘And Lauren?’
‘I felt for so long that she’d abandoned me,’ he sighed. ‘I recognise that I was so enraged, left alone to cope in a world that together, we’d worked so hard to create.’
‘And this has changed?’ Angelique was curious.
‘I feel that I can connect with her now. When I look at her painting in my room, it’s as though she’s smiling.’ Waltho paused. ‘The angst in her eyes isn’t there.’
Angelique nodded. ‘Maybe she was always smiling, but it was your own angst that you saw,’ she replied. ‘Comfort in coping with the loss of your soulmate may be from believing that you still have a connection.’ She shrugged. ‘The anger that fuelled the flames must have gone if your memories of her smile are good.’
‘I can’t describe it,’ Waltho said. ‘Whether it’s because the house is fully operational and I have a purpose or maybe it is being amongst people again?’ He looked perplexed. ‘But my heart is lighter.’
‘Don’t feel guilty that you are here, and Lauren is not.’ Angelique picked up a bottle. ‘As you say, life goes on, and so should we.’ She poured wine into two glasses and smiled as she handed one to Waltho. ‘Hey, do you remember what John Lennon said?’
‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans!’ they both chorused and began to laugh.
Waltho reached for his phone and, tapping the keys, blue-toothed it to a speaker.
Angelique started to dance as the bars of a song by the Beatles struck up. Holding her glass high, she threw back her head. ‘Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends,’ she sang and, grinning, pointed at Waltho. ‘You’ll get by with a little help from your friends.’ Taking his hand, she encouraged him to dance, and as his feet moved and body swayed, Waltho closed his eyes and began to sing, too.
* * *
The guests trooped out of the minibus and, forming a snaking line, walked through the village towards the bridge that arched over the river Vienne. The twins admired baskets of blossoms and window boxes planted with herbs as Bridgette waved at locals going into a bakery.
Fran stopped to press her nose to the window to stare at the patisserie section.
‘Come on.’ Sally took Fran’s arm. ‘I’m sure there will be plenty of pastries at the picnic.’
‘I hope so,’ Fran replied, ‘the honey cake has given me a craving for something sweet.’
Fran was wearing pink shorts to the knee and a matching T-shirt, and her tote bag, slung across her body, was bulging with a beach towel. A visor perched on her head above giant sunshades bore the slogan, Shady Lady.
In contrast, Sally wore a tiny halter-neck dress that left little to the imagination.
Bridgette waved at a group of children in a playground. Turning to Sally, she said, ‘My handkerchief is bigger than your dress!’ Dressed in her regulation walking gear of khaki shorts, Aertex shirt and hiking boots, Bridgette’s Tilley hat was strapped firmly under her chin. The children giggled as she strode past.
‘You’re only jealous,’ Sally called out to Bridgette.
‘Yes, I am, absolutely,’ Bridgette replied, ‘I haven’t worn anything so brief since the Big Bopper’s music had me jiving around to “Chantilly Lace”.’ Bridgette swung her arms, ‘It was all tiny tops and layers of skirt in those days, and I loved it.’
‘Chantilly lace and a pretty face,’ Fran started to sing, ‘and a ponytail a hanging down!’
As they reached the bridge, guests joined in with Fran, and their hands clapped in rhythm.
‘That wiggle in the walk and giggle in the talk,’ sang Ahmed and the expats as they danced over the cobbles.
The twins and Sally circled and called out, ‘Makes the world go round!’
At the back of the group, Caroline slowed down.
The strap of her sandal had slipped, and she reached out to adjust it. She realised that wearing walking trainers would have been sensible, but she’d have to make do. At least she felt comfortable in her white linen dress.
Caroline looked up, and when she saw Fran, she could scarcely believe she was making such an example of herself in front of the villagers. Whatever must they think of the ridiculously dressed English woman who looked like a blancmange on legs as she wobbled around, singing to Bridgette’s out-of-tune whistling?
Caroline was surprised, too, at the twins and the expats, who clearly didn’t object to making a fool of themselves. She noticed that Tomas and Daniel had hung back and, despite smiling, didn’t join in. Ahmed had the sense to restrain himself, but as the guests stood by the steps down to the riverbank, she was dismayed that the dentist had taken Sally by the hand to jive.
‘Please don’t throw her over your shoulder,’ Caroline muttered. She imagined Sally’s minuscule skirt hoisted up to reveal nothing but a thong.
They’d all be arrested if they carried on like this.
Stop being so critical! the monkey on Caroline’s shoulder unexpectedly whispered.
Caroline took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She had to learn to relax and let life carry on around her. How would she ever sort her problems out if she was always so tense?
Wondering where Waltho and Angelique had gotten to, Caroline paused to peer over the bridge’s wall. She could hardly believe her eyes. In a hollow dip, beside the picnic table, chairs and blankets, the pair were dancing too!
Caroline wondered if she could slip away and get back on the bus or even find a café to quietly sit until it was time to leave. But before she could make a discreet exit, Fran sashayed over and held out her hands.
‘Come and dance, Caro,’ Fran laughed.
‘No, thanks.’ Caroline snatched her hands back.
‘Oops, I’m sorry.’ Fran stopped and removed her sunglasses. She looked sheepish. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she said. ‘Can I walk with you to the picnic? We could sit together and have a chat?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ Caroline was hesitant but, with no options, found herself alongside Fran.
‘I seem to upset you,’ Fran began. ‘I don’t mean to. I know I am loud and always pitch in without thinking, but the last thing I’d ever intend is to offend.’
Caroline stopped and stared at Fran. The woman was offering an apology! But before Caroline could reply, Fran was bumbling on.
‘I think we come from opposite worlds,’ Fran reasoned, ‘and I’m sorry if I have done anything that makes you unhappy or you think inappropriate. Please know it hasn’t been intentional.’
‘But…’ Caroline was suddenly lost for words.
Pausing by the steps, Fran said, ‘You see, I am just an ordinary Lancashire lass who hasn’t travelled far and knows little about life outside Blackpool. You come from London and I’m sure you must be sophisticated and worldly and live a very different life to me.’ Fran continued to humble herself with apologies.
As Caroline stared at Fran’s earnest face, she digested her words, remembering her own modest background, where she’d grown up with little money in a mining village with parents whom Caroline had shamefully hardly seen after her marriage to Stanley. Now, here was Fran, who, unlike herself, was happy with her lot, financially comfortable, successful in business, in a loving relationship, and she was apologising!
Caroline was mortified. What a dreadful snob she’d been. No wonder she never formed close friendships.
‘Oh Fran, please don’t apologise.’ Caroline felt an urge to reach out and touch Fran’s arm. ‘It is me who should be apologising to you. I’ve been such a stuffed shirt.’
‘Stuffed shirt? That’s a new one.’ Fran laughed, but as she looked into Caroline’s eyes, she saw that they held the weight of unspoken sorrow.
‘Oh, lass…’ Fran whispered, ‘whatever troubles you?’
‘D… Do you think we might start again?’
Fran sensed Caroline’s anxiety, and suddenly, as though a silent language had passed between them, she understood the sadness in her eyes.
Instinctively, the two women reached out and linked arms.
‘Sh— should we go and join the picnic?’ Caroline asked.
‘Good idea. Steady as you go down the steps,’ she said, gripping Caroline tightly, ‘we don’t want any casualties this afternoon.’
* * *
As Fran and Caroline reached the others, Caroline’s phone began to ring, and she reached into her pocket. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the screen.
‘I’m sorry, but I must take this call,’ Caroline said.
‘Aye, of course, I’ll grab us both a chair.’ Fran nodded.
As Caroline moved away, gripping the phone to her ear, Fran flopped down on a chair beside Sally. She placed her bag on an empty seat.
‘Save that one for Caro,’ Fran said.
The Beatles were still playing on Waltho’s speaker, and Fran noticed that Bridgette had stretched out on her back on a nearby rug, her hat covering her face. Ahmed was chatting to the twins, and the expats had begun to play cards.
‘I poured a drink for you.’ Sally held up a glass of wine. ‘How did your chat with Caroline go?’
‘I think there might be a breakthrough.’ Fran smiled. After seeing Caroline’s sadness and sensing her distress, Fran felt protective and decided, for now, not to say more.
Sipping her drink, she stared at Sally. ‘You look tired,’ she said. ‘Have you been burning the midnight oil?’
‘A bit. After our exertions in the pool, skinny dipping at midnight in the moonlight. I have no idea what time we eventually got to bed.’
‘Skinny dipping?’ Fran raised a heavily pencilled eyebrow. She visualised Daniel’s top-to-toe tan and grinned.
Sid always had lines. Despite ruddy brown arms and a conker-coloured face in the summer, his body was pure white where his vest and shorts were worn, matched by the line of his socks. Sunshine and Sid’s hidden bits were never destined to meet. Fran, on the other hand, enjoyed wearing a bikini. After all, she thought, brown flesh looked better than the milky-blue colour that seemed to tinge her ageing flesh.
‘What about you?’ Fran asked Sally. ‘Do you enjoy swimming without your kit?’
But before Sally could reply, a muffled voice piped up, ‘Can’t beat it. Naturism is marvellous.’
Fran turned to stare at Bridgette, who lay with her hands linked over her chest. The Tilley hat covered her face, and it quivered as she spoke.
‘Bridgette enjoys skinny dipping,’ Sally smiled.
‘I whip my kit off at every opportunity,’ Bridgette said. ‘Took to it later in life, and Hugo soon got the hang of things.’
Fran did a double take. She stared incredulously and imagined Hugo and Bridgette in the buff, at their manor house, as naked as the birds and bees.
‘But how?’ Fran asked, wondering how pensioners suddenly took to wandering around stark naked.
‘I went on a spa break and met a man named Norman,’ Bridgette sighed. ‘He taught me the benefits and I’ve never looked back.’
‘I see.’ Fran frowned. She didn’t see at all and couldn’t imagine Sid and Norman the Naturist hitting it off.
‘I might join Sally and Daniel again for another midnight dip,’ Bridgette said, and with a yawn, turned on her side. In moments, her snores told everyone that she was sound asleep.
‘Well, I never.’ Fran giggled. ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’
‘Or Bridgette by her botanical pantsuit.’ Sally giggled too. She held her wine and closed her eyes. ‘Hasn’t this been a heavenly week?’
‘Yes, it has, I’ve loved every moment,’ Fran said. ‘Even the storm in the church was exciting, and I felt it bonded us all together.’
‘Caroline is the only person who hasn’t bonded with everyone.’
‘I know,’ Fran sighed. ‘I thought she disapproved of me, but hopefully that might change.’
‘But why would she disapprove?’
‘It could be my clothes, my face, my snores, my laugh… Everything about me, in fact.’
‘Oh Fran, you mustn’t feel that way.’ Sally sat up and touched Fran’s arm. ‘You’re a wonderful person with a huge heart,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Caroline has troubles she doesn’t want to share, and they make her grumpy.’
‘Aye, well, that may be so.’
Angelique was circulating with wine, and Sally held out her empty glass.
‘Not for me,’ Fran said, ‘I’ll fall asleep if I have another.’ She looked around to see if lunch was ready, but everyone was still enjoying a drink and appetisers.
Ahmed was delighting in a sing-song with the twins. As Fran listened, she considered their repertoire of Beatles songs impressive. The expats were still engrossed in their card game while Waltho, Daniel and Tomas sat in chairs, beers in hand, deep in discussion, putting world politics to rights.
Fran couldn’t see Caroline and wondered where she’d got to. Now might be a good time to continue their chat. Feeling restless, she placed her empty glass down and stretched her arms.
‘I think I might have a stroll to look at the river after all that rain,’ Fran said to Sally. ‘Why don’t you join Bridgette and have forty winks? You look like you need it.’
‘I might just do that.’ Sally yawned. ‘The sun is making me drowsy.’ Sally closed her eyes. ‘Enjoy your walk, and don’t get lost.’