A Close Connection by Patricia Fawcett

wearing a long-brightly coloured silk dress cinched at the waist with a broad belt that showed off her slim figure. She was clever with her hair and it was now curling softly around her shoulders but clipped up with a gold pin at one side. Paula was grateful that Eleanor had opted for flat sandals as, with her own high-heeled shoes, their height difference was thus minimized. ‘You look lovely,’ Eleanor said, smiling down at her. ‘What a pretty colour. Doesn’t she look lovely, Henry?’
    Henry looked at her appreciatively, taking her in from topto toe, which made her feel uncomfortable. For some reason, Henry unnerved her. There was something about him that she did not like and her womanly intuition told her to avoid being in a one-to-one situation with him. Alan thought him prickly too, but she was trying to be generous, aware that first impressions could be deceptive and that it was unwise to jump to conclusions. The longest conversation she and Henry had had together had been at the wedding reception when they sat side by side at the top table. Henry made a beautiful speech but then he had a lovely speaking voice although, sitting near to him, she was aware that he was finding it hard to contain his emotion as he spoke about his lovely daughter whom he had just given away. She liked that. It proved he was a father who cared, although judging from the brief embrace she had seen him give his daughter he may not always show his feelings.
    Nicola was beautiful, with her mother’s build and her father’s hazel eyes, looking spectacularly beautiful on her wedding day in a simple cream dress. Thinking of what might have been if Lucy had lived had made that moment particularly hard, for she would surely have been a bridesmaid and she had fought to hold back tears knowing as she caught Alan’s gaze that he was thinking precisely what she was thinking.
     
    All these years on, Lucy still intruded into her mind and she wished she had not done so just now as the four of them stood in the bar of the hotel by the lake on the first evening of their holiday.
    ‘You look very nice, Paula,’ Henry said, prompted by his wife. ‘Good choice.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Paula stopped herself in time from saying that her dress had been a bargain, reduced significantly because of a tiny flaw that nobody could see unless they were told about it. She must stop doing that, very nearly apologizing to Eleanor for every damned thing. The dress was hyacinth blue,her favourite colour, and, although her hair would never be in the same category as Eleanor’s she thought the short blunt cut suited her and showed off the pretty, sparkly, dangly earrings that, aside from her wedding band, were her only jewellery.
    It did not seem as if their group was going to stick together as couples quickly dispersed once in the dining room but of course the four of them were shown to a table set for four. Predictably, it was not acceptable to Eleanor being in the centre of the room but the waiter was unfazed and found them one which gave them a view of the gardens, the busy coast road and the smooth blue waters of the lake beyond.
    ‘This reminds me of a hotel we go to a lot near St Ives,’ Eleanor said once they were fussily settled, the waiter pulling out seats for the ladies and being super-attentive. ‘We must take you there sometime. You’ll love it. Do you get over to Cornwall much?’
    ‘Just as far as Matthew and Nicola’s but not very often to the depths,’ Alan said with a smile. To Paula’s relief, he seemed relaxed but then he was always much more at ease with Nicola’s parents than she was. Their fancy house, the expensive clothes, the travelling, their status in the community … it did nothing for him at all. She had asked Alan how much the Nightingales were worth and he just shrugged, not the least interested. ‘With me working a lot of weekends, we never seem to have the time to do the sights. I don’t suppose you get over to Plymouth