It's Raining Men (39 page)

‘Hello, my dear, how lovely to see you.’ Then the smile slipped as she registered Gladys’s furrowed brow and the worry in her eyes. ‘Whatever’s the
matter?’

‘Raine, I need to talk to you. Can we go inside?’

‘Yes, of course. Come in.’

Gladys wheeled Raine through the door and sat down heavily on the sofa. She barely knew where to start.

No one could be bothered to cook and when May suggested they go to Jenny’s and have lunch made for them, there was a resounding yes by way of response.

‘Are you sure Gene Hathersage didn’t try to kiss you when you got out of his truck?’ Clare asked Lara as they walked down the hill.

‘I’ve told you, no. He’s not interested in women. He went to great lengths to tell me that. Not that I’m bothered because I’m not interested in men.’

‘Okay, we believe you.’

‘Good.’

As they passed Spice Wood, Clare was relieved to see that Val Hathersage wasn’t hanging around waiting for her. Not that she would have been tempted to join him. She couldn’t help
thinking what would have happened if the old couple had called the police and they came to arrest her whilst she was waiting ‘two minutes’ for Val to return with their lunch. What if
she had been arrested and her name would have appeared in the national papers? What if her parents had read it? She felt sick at the thought and shuddered.

‘Cold?’ asked May, seeing her.

‘No, someone just walked over my grave,’ fibbed Clare.

‘Please, please, God, make Daisy Unwin not be in here,’ said May under her breath as they approached the Front Café. She wasn’t, but a few other locals were. They nodded
a hello, even if they didn’t actually say the word.

‘Hello, ladies.’ Jenny came bustling over, wearing a brightly coloured gingham apron made of the same material as the tablecloths. ‘Can I get you something to drink whilst
you’re looking through the menu?’

They ordered three fizzy lemon juices; it was too warm for coffee today.

‘There’s no reason why this café couldn’t be extended at the front to have an outdoor eating area,’ mused May.

Lara raised her hands. ‘Please don’t get me started on what I’d do with Ren Dullem if I had half the chance.’

‘You too?’ Clare chuckled. ‘I lie in bed at night planning changes. So far I’ve reorganized the market, redesigned the park and renovated all those derelict cottages
opposite the woods.’

‘Ooh, guess what I was told?’ May suddenly remembered an interesting fact from her conversation with Frank. ‘We aren’t actually staying in Ren Dullem. We are staying in
Reines de la Mer.’ She sat back and let the others absorb that.

‘More needed,’ prompted Clare.

‘Apparently the village was named after the mermaids that once lived in the sea so they wouldn’t sink the fishing boats. Clare, steady on. It’s a legend,’ said May,
seeing Clare’s eyes widening.

‘And who did you hear all this from?’ asked Lara.

‘Er, Frank. I bumped into him earlier on. We had a little chat. Don’t look at me like that, you two.’

Jenny returned to take their order and they had to suspend their conversation whilst they hurriedly chose.

‘Spicy chicken and rice for me, please,’ said Lara.

‘Baked potato with chilli and cheese, please,’ May added to the order.

‘All-day breakfast, please, with extra mushrooms,’ said Clare, turning to Lara. ‘That’s your fault for talking about your breakfast this morning – you’ve got
me craving sausages.’

‘I shan’t be craving any of those for a while,’ replied Lara. ‘Now, what has anyone got in mind for altering the harbour front?’

‘I’m getting old.’ Gladys sighed. There was a major slump to her shoulders. She was weighed down with stress. ‘I actually gave her the benefit of the
doubt. I said to myself: “Gladys, maybe you’ve been a bit too hard on the woman. Maybe you’ve got things out of proportion because you like the setup with Lord Carlton and you
were too afraid of it being spoiled.” So I started being a bit more friendly to Joan Hawk. Then I sneaked over and looked in her bin. I was right: she had got Edwin drunk that night. And
those prawns didn’t come from Wellem market, she lied. And that elder-flower cordial wasn’t home-made. I’m not wrong, am I, Raine? You know I’m not. What’s she up to,
and can’t you stop her?’

‘Gladys, Gladys.’ Raine closed her short stubby hand over Gladys’s large and warm one. ‘Look what happened the last time I interfered with fate.’

‘You saved thirteen lives,’ Gladys remonstrated with her.

‘I condemned a whole village,’ Raine replied. ‘Because of my presence the village sealed itself away, girls were no longer born, people sacrificed their own happiness to
protect me. That was never my intention. It was duty and honour gone mad.’

‘They wanted to, though. They loved you. We all still love you. There wasn’t a family in the village that wasn’t related to one of those thirteen men. Everyone owed you their
loyalty and allegiance.’

‘What will be, will be, Gladys. I’m tired.’

Gladys’s face was full of concern. ‘I’m going to ask again and again until you say yes. Let us move you down to the village. None of us think you’re safe up here. Cliffs
are falling into the sea all the time. You’re too near to the edge and there’s no barrier.’

‘Promise me something, Gladys. If anything happens to me, you’ll make sure Albert has a good home. He hasn’t long left. I’d like his last days to be happy
ones.’

Gladys gasped. ‘You’re scaring me, Raine.’

‘Promise me.’

‘I’ll look after Albert. You know I will.’

Raine let loose a tinkly laugh, then leaned over and gave Gladys a kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re a good friend. You must not worry. Now, would you do me a favour, Gladys? I have a
letter to write and I can’t find any paper or pencils. The day ladies sometimes put things I don’t use in the top cupboards in the kitchen. Would you have a look in there for
me?’

Over their meal May, Clare and Lara completely overhauled Ren Dullem, carefully, though, so as not to ruin its quaintness. Any new builds would have to be made from old stone,
the car park would have to be on the edge of the village, leaving the centre a pedestrian-only zone, except for authorized vehicles – they couldn’t exactly deny access to lovely
Frank’s van. The fly-tippers’ dream area on the road into Ren Dullem would be totally cleaned up and widened, the ice-cream parlour would have an upstairs café affording a view
of the harbour, and Unwin’s coffee kiosk would be boarded up with big nails. With all the Unwin family trapped inside.

They were just giggling about that last touch when the door opened and in walked Pauline Unwin, pulling her cousin’s chair.

‘Talk of the devil,’ muttered Lara.

‘Bloody marvellous,’ said Daisy in a whisper louder than anyone else’s shout.

Jenny arrived at the table with three large slices of her homemade chocolate truffle cheesecake, clotted cream on the side. They noticed that her whole demeanour changed when Daisy entered.
Jenny scurried over to her table to set it with cutlery and give it an extra clean.

‘That Daisy sure brings in an atmosphere with her, doesn’t she?’ said Lara.

‘Ignore her,’ replied Clare, sticking her fork into the muddy depths of the cheesecake. ‘Oh, my, I’ve just died and gone to heaven.’ Lud loved cheesecake.
Lud
Lud Lud.

‘Soon be back to normal, Pauline. That funny smell will have gone.’ Daisy spoke much more loudly than she needed to, since Pauline was inches away from her.

Clare giggled. ‘How old is she? Ten?’

There was a clattering as Jenny dropped some cutlery.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, get us some more,’ yelled Daisy. ‘You always were a clumsy cow.’

Lara spun around in her seat; she’d heard enough. ‘Don’t talk to her like that.’

Daisy looked as if she had been slapped in the face and Pauline’s mouth had dropped into such a large ‘O’ she could have stepped straight out of ‘The Scream’.

‘What?’

‘I said don’t talk to Jenny like that.’

May and Clare were silent. They didn’t interfere when Lara’s hackles were up.

Daisy’s mouth fell into a variety of different shapes as if she were trying out some choice words before delivering them. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ she spat
eventually. ‘Can’t you see how I am?’ She stabbed her finger at her legs.

Lara was turning very red.

‘I can see very well how you are disposed, though what that has to do with talking to someone as if they’re crap is anyone’s guess.’

‘And what are you doing to do about it?’

Daisy’s face morphed into Cassandra Wath’s from Lara’s schooldays. Lara had just asked her to lay off pulling a first year’s hair in the toilet.
And what are you
going to do about it?
Cassandra had said.
This
, Lara had replied, and she’d dragged Cassandra over to the nearest toilet and flushed her head down it. Lara contemplated the
logistics of getting Daisy into the loo. Unfortunately it was a no-goer.

‘Look at you, threatening the disabled. I saw you looking at that jug of water as if you were going to throw it over me,’ cried Daisy, as if she were performing to an audience.

‘What jug of water?’ said Lara.

‘The one on the counter.’

Lara shook her head in disbelief. Daisy was joking, surely. Lara wasn’t even looking in that direction.

‘Let’s just go,’ suggested May. They couldn’t finish their nice lunch in peace, and now it had been spoiled.

Clare stood and picked up her handbag. She took some notes out of her purse and handed them to Jenny.

‘Keep the change, Jenny. Thanks.’

Jenny looked upset.

‘And you, Scarface –’ quick as a flash Daisy wheeled over and straight into May’s legs – ‘stop looking at my Francis. I’ve seen you, tart. He’s
mine. Piss off back down south and leave us alone.’

Lara pushed Daisy’s chair away with her crutch and pushed May forwards to safety.

Before they shut the door they heard Daisy screech: ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish.’

This was followed by a rather weak echo from Pauline: ‘Yeah. Rubbish.’ Clearly she wasn’t quite brave enough to say anything in support, but even less brave about saying
nothing.

‘You okay?’ asked Clare, bending down to look at May’s legs, one of which was bleeding across the shin.

‘That hurt,’ replied May. There were tears in her eyes. Clare suspected they were caused as much by Daisy’s reference to her scar, if not more.

‘Want to borrow my crutch?’ asked Lara with a soft smile, rubbing her friend’s arm.

‘I don’t know how Frank puts up with her,’ Clare said, shaking her head.

‘Let’s go and have an ice cream instead,’ suggested Lara. ‘I was really enjoying that cheesecake, as well. I shan’t be sorry to be saying goodbye to her.’

May and Clare nodded their heads. The trouble was, there were too many things they really would be sorry to say goodbye to. Whilst they weren’t looking, Ren Dullem had sneaked into their
hearts.

The ice-cream boy-man looked just as petrified to be serving offcumdens as he had been before.

‘We shall have to send him for confidence lessons when we take over the village,’ decided Lara. ‘He’s going to waste all the profits in dropped cornets.’

They sat on the harbour front taking in the view and listening to the seagulls clamouring for attention, or fish, they weren’t quite sure. There was a small boat in the distance bobbing on
the gently cresting waves which were twinkling in the sunshine. Some old people were asleep on deckchairs on the small line of sand to the left. Milton Bird was one of them, a knotted handkerchief
on his head and his trouser legs rolled up. His pink pumps stood side by side next to his long thin feet. He had fallen asleep mid-cornet; the ice cream was still in his hand, but it was melting
onto the sand.

Lara smiled. ‘Bless the mad old thing. He looks totally blissed out.’

‘I’m glad you cocked up this holiday, Lars,’ said Clare, her head tilted back. She felt as if the sun were holding her face in its hands.

‘Yes, well done, Lars,’ said May, taking a glug from a bottle of Diet Coke. ‘This was your finest hour.’

‘I don’t want to go home,’ announced Clare.

‘You’re okay.’ Lara gave a little laugh. ‘You’re the only one with something to go back for.’

Clare didn’t put them right. She bit down on her lip to counter the rise of emotion welling up within her. ‘I’m going for a swim in the lagoon,’ she said.

‘I’ll walk with you,’ said Lara, reaching for her crutch. ‘I’ll sit outside and read my book. Let’s get a couple of bottles of red wine from Hubbard’s
Cupboard and get wankered later.’

‘I’ll see you up there,’ said May. ‘I’m going to sit here and enjoy the sun whilst those stupid clouds aren’t around.’

‘I’m the only one without a leg injury,’ said Clare as she helped Lara to her feet. ‘I feel left out.’

‘We could go back to Jenny’s to retrieve the cheesecake and you could call Daisy a twat. I’m sure you’d get a ramming for that.’

‘Cheers, Lara. On second thoughts, let me stay as the unique oddity that I am.’

May stayed on the bench for another half an hour doing nothing but absorbing the quiet and the warmth. ‘Busy doing nothing’ was the expression that came to mind.
She was always too busy to do nothing. Even when she was physically resting, her brain was usually a hive of activity, worrying about work, worrying about Michael, worrying about Susan. It was
surprisingly easy not to think about Michael here. It would be harder not to think about Frank when she was back in London.

She wondered what his farm looked like from close up and thought she might have a sneak peek. She crossed the square, endured the evil eye from Mr Unwin in his coffee kiosk and walked towards
the lane that led to Hathersage Farm. Frank’s truck was parked so awkwardly in the first lay-by that she wasn’t sure if he had crashed or not.

May looked in the window and saw Frank slumped over the driver’s wheel. She rapped hard on the glass, calling his name.

‘Frank, are you all right?’ She opened his door and shook him gently but he hardly responded. ‘Frank, what’s wrong?’