Gary Partridge was in the infinity pool when Kelly announced they had a visitor. ‘It’s that bloke from the big house, the posh one up the hill,’ she shouted. ‘Simon Bartlett. What does he want with us? I expect it’ll be a donation he’s after. See him off. We’re not made of money.’
Gary shoved on his dressing-gown. He’d not even had a shave and was embarrassed to be caught out at this time of the morning. ‘Mr Bartlett, nice to meet you again. Do sit down,’ he said.
‘Simon, please. I expect you’re wondering why I’m here.’
‘Have a drink – beer, wine or ouzo? Kelly!’ he shouted.
‘A coffee will be fine, but only if you’re having one.’ Simon Bartlett looked around with interest. ‘Quite a view you have here.’
Gary shot off to find Kelly, who was spinning in the gym. ‘Two coffees, love, from the machine.’
‘What does he want?’
‘Just get us the drinks and then I’ll find out.’ Kelly was such a stroppy cow at the moment, he thought. When he returned to their lounge, with its white leather sofas and sprawling rugs, armchair throws, fancy cushions, glass cabinets and prints on the wall, it all seemed a bit naff in Simon’s presence. He felt nervous, wanting to make a good impression.
‘I’ve just come to ask if, by any chance, you’d consider joining the new choir. We’re looking for younger voices and your name was mentioned. What do you think?’
Gary laughed. ‘I was an altar boy, but then my voice broke. Karaoke’s more my line after a few bevvies. I don’t read music. My gran got me piano lessons but they didn’t last, not when all my mates were out playing footie.’
‘Very few of us can read music. It’s just carols and Christmas songs, and all in a good cause. It’s in support of the refugees,’ Simon continued.
‘I’ll have to ask Kelly. She’s not too keen on…’ He paused
Simon smiled. ‘She’s welcome too, of course. The more the merrier.’
‘Can you leave it with me? It’s nice to be asked to join in. I’m afraid we do tend to keep ourselves to ourselves a bit.’
‘Do you fish?’ Simon asked ‘A few of us go out fishing and you’d be very welcome to join us.’
Gary hesitated. He got quite queasy in small boats. But it was a kind offer. A bit of male company would be welcome.
Kelly brought in the coffee in cheap mugs and put them down with a loud bang on the glass-topped coffee-table. ‘Sugar’s in the bowl, but I’m afraid there’s no cake. I’m on a diet,’ she announced.
Gary nearly choked. Kelly on a diet? What a lie. ‘Thanks, love. Simon’s asked me to join his choir.’
‘Actually it was Ariadne Blunt’s idea. She conducts us and provides the music,’ Simon said.
‘I don’t think it’s our scene, is it, Gary?’ Kelly replied. ‘We’re not into that sort of stuff.’
Gary felt his cheeks flushing. ‘They need more men,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll go if you don’t want to. It’s for the refugees.’
‘Oh, really,’ she replied. ‘I think they should all be deported to where they came from. I don’t hold with it.’
Gary felt ashamed of his wife’s opinions. What must Simon, an educated man, think of them both? ‘Count me in, but when’s rehearsals?’
They drank the coffee, making small-talk, then Simon shook his hand. ‘Good show. I thought you might help us.’ They made for the door through the large tiled hallway. ‘And do thank Mrs Partridge for the coffee. Delicious.’
When Gary returned Kelly’s face was a picture of fury. ‘I thought we agreed not to get involved in anything local,’ she said.
‘It’s only for Christmas and you could come too.’
‘Forget it! I’m not joining those old fogeys, or that funny woman and her dotty sister or cousin, whatever she is.’
‘They were kind to us when we moved here.’
‘They give me the creeps, dressed like two bag-ladies.’
Gary couldn’t believe what came out of Kelly’s mouth, these days. She used to be kind-hearted and sympathetic, but lately she’d changed. Had their new-found wealth given her airs and graces? He put it down to her not getting pregnant and two failed rounds of IVF. The old Kelly had vanished and in her place was this loudmouthed sulky madam, who was never satisfied with anything they did. Living out here wasn’t the idyll he’d expected. Money can make things more comfortable, but it hadn’t shifted his guilt.
If the truth were known, he was in hiding, not from any real crime but from a terrible lie. What would Kelly think if she knew the truth about their wealth? Singing a few Christmas carols couldn’t change any of it, but it might sort out his troubled soul.