her. Anything else was child’s play.
Chapter 12
Fifteen minutes later, they were in Meadowhall hurtling towards Marks & Spencer. Ven was grabbing clothes off rails and shoving Olive into changing rooms. By nine o’clock, Olive had a basic capsule cruise wardrobe: trousers, shorts, new undies, T-shirts, two posh blouses, two skirts, sundresses, a sarong and a couple of little black cocktail dresses, which Ven assured her could be tarted up with the loads of scarves and costume jewellery she was taking. Oh – and a big pink suitcase. Anything else she could buy on the ship or in a port. Olive packed it all at Ven’s house, then rang all her clients from Ven’s phone and left messages on their voicemails to say that she wouldn’t be able to come for at least a fortnight because she had caught a contagious virus and had to be quarantined. If she returned home to find they had dispensed with her services, well, so be it. Because nothing was going to stop Olive from getting on that ship now. She was riding on the crest of a wave of anger that refused to bring her back to a sensible shore.
Ven’s ancient tabby cat jumped on Olive’s case and scared her to death.
‘Ethel, you made me jump!’ she said, giving the purring cat a scratch under her chin. Ven had got Ethel from a rescue centre when the cat was nine, and that was well over thirteen years ago. Ethel had no teeth now and cloudy sleepy eyes. Ethel spent her life journeying from Ven’s rocking chair to the food bowl, fitting in a couple of loo visits in the garden along the way, and was always on the lookout for a visitor to scratch her head. Flaming cat has a better life than me, Olive thought suddenly.
‘My Cousin Jen is picking Ethel up in the morning. She has the life of luxury on their farm – gets petted to death by the kids.’
‘She’s a lovely lass, is Jen,’ agreed Olive.
‘She is, bless her. Poor as a church mouse but a heart of gold.’ Ven smiled fondly at her friend. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re coming with us, Olive. You’re going to have such a great time.’
God, I hope so, thought Olive. She had a feeling she would be facing hell when she got back. So she’d better make it worth the punishment.
As Ven dropped Olive and her bag of cleaning stuff off at the end of Land Lane, she was thrilled to bits that the gods had been looking out for Olive, after all. As Ven said, ‘Goodbye, see you in the morning,’ she almost went on to tell Olive her secret. But at the last second, she shut up. If everything went tits up, she alone would take the blame.
Chapter 13
When Olive got home, Doreen had a face like a vinegar-sucking Shar Pei.
‘Where’ve you been till this time? I’ve been waiting for you to put me to bed.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Olive in her usual meek way, but she was sorely tempted to give her mother-in-law a mouthful. Dutifully, she helped Doreen change into her voluminous nightie and bore her weight as she helped her onto the toilet, nursing the thought that she wouldn’t be doing this again for another two and a half glorious weeks. Then she pulled the lounge sofa out into a double bed – the same routine she had done for nearly eight years now, when Doreen decided it was too much for her to go up the stairs to sleep. She put Doreen’s teeth in a glass to soak, made her a Horlicks with the usual six teaspoons of powder and full fat milk, then she switched off the big light leaving the small lamp on next to the sofa bed so Doreen could read a few pages of her latest Mills & Boon. As she went into the kitchen, she tried not to look at Kevin’s washing basket, which he’d asked her to sort out for tomorrow. She also tried not to breathe in the cheese and vinegar sock smell which was heavy in the air. The washing machine was ancient but easy enough to use. Even an idiot could load it and press the button that said either ‘On – quick wash’ or ‘On – long wash’. Then again, maybe it was
Chapter 12
Fifteen minutes later, they were in Meadowhall hurtling towards Marks & Spencer. Ven was grabbing clothes off rails and shoving Olive into changing rooms. By nine o’clock, Olive had a basic capsule cruise wardrobe: trousers, shorts, new undies, T-shirts, two posh blouses, two skirts, sundresses, a sarong and a couple of little black cocktail dresses, which Ven assured her could be tarted up with the loads of scarves and costume jewellery she was taking. Oh – and a big pink suitcase. Anything else she could buy on the ship or in a port. Olive packed it all at Ven’s house, then rang all her clients from Ven’s phone and left messages on their voicemails to say that she wouldn’t be able to come for at least a fortnight because she had caught a contagious virus and had to be quarantined. If she returned home to find they had dispensed with her services, well, so be it. Because nothing was going to stop Olive from getting on that ship now. She was riding on the crest of a wave of anger that refused to bring her back to a sensible shore.
Ven’s ancient tabby cat jumped on Olive’s case and scared her to death.
‘Ethel, you made me jump!’ she said, giving the purring cat a scratch under her chin. Ven had got Ethel from a rescue centre when the cat was nine, and that was well over thirteen years ago. Ethel had no teeth now and cloudy sleepy eyes. Ethel spent her life journeying from Ven’s rocking chair to the food bowl, fitting in a couple of loo visits in the garden along the way, and was always on the lookout for a visitor to scratch her head. Flaming cat has a better life than me, Olive thought suddenly.
‘My Cousin Jen is picking Ethel up in the morning. She has the life of luxury on their farm – gets petted to death by the kids.’
‘She’s a lovely lass, is Jen,’ agreed Olive.
‘She is, bless her. Poor as a church mouse but a heart of gold.’ Ven smiled fondly at her friend. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re coming with us, Olive. You’re going to have such a great time.’
God, I hope so, thought Olive. She had a feeling she would be facing hell when she got back. So she’d better make it worth the punishment.
As Ven dropped Olive and her bag of cleaning stuff off at the end of Land Lane, she was thrilled to bits that the gods had been looking out for Olive, after all. As Ven said, ‘Goodbye, see you in the morning,’ she almost went on to tell Olive her secret. But at the last second, she shut up. If everything went tits up, she alone would take the blame.
Chapter 13
When Olive got home, Doreen had a face like a vinegar-sucking Shar Pei.
‘Where’ve you been till this time? I’ve been waiting for you to put me to bed.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Olive in her usual meek way, but she was sorely tempted to give her mother-in-law a mouthful. Dutifully, she helped Doreen change into her voluminous nightie and bore her weight as she helped her onto the toilet, nursing the thought that she wouldn’t be doing this again for another two and a half glorious weeks. Then she pulled the lounge sofa out into a double bed – the same routine she had done for nearly eight years now, when Doreen decided it was too much for her to go up the stairs to sleep. She put Doreen’s teeth in a glass to soak, made her a Horlicks with the usual six teaspoons of powder and full fat milk, then she switched off the big light leaving the small lamp on next to the sofa bed so Doreen could read a few pages of her latest Mills & Boon. As she went into the kitchen, she tried not to look at Kevin’s washing basket, which he’d asked her to sort out for tomorrow. She also tried not to breathe in the cheese and vinegar sock smell which was heavy in the air. The washing machine was ancient but easy enough to use. Even an idiot could load it and press the button that said either ‘On – quick wash’ or ‘On – long wash’. Then again, maybe it was
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