The Full Legacy by Jane Retzig

headed towards the ungainly heap of arms and legs. It was hard to tell where Ros ended and Kay began.
    ‘Can’t take you two anywhere,’ I muttered.
    Our accuser huffed himself back into his house.
    ‘Sorry!’ I shouted again, after his retreating back.
    They both snorted with laughter as I helped them struggle back onto their feet.
    I figured I’d better help tidy up the mess, particularly as they were convulsed with giggles and unable to help themselves.
     ‘ She started it,’ they said in unison, before collapsing in helpless gasps of laughter again. I picked a teabag off Kay’s back before attempting to shove a sticky baked bean tin back through the hole in one of the bags.
    ‘If I get tetanus, I’m suing the pair of you,’ I grunted.
    ‘Oh Gill, take a chill pill!’ Kay guffawed.
    And Ros collapsed into giggles again just because it rhymed.
     

 
Suzanne
     
    The next morning I phoned Suzanne at work.
    ‘Sure you don’t want to talk to the boss?’ she asked, in a tone that was as brittle as cinder toffee.
    ‘No, I want to talk to you . Any chance of lunch?’
    ‘Okay.’ She was being very cagey.
    ‘How about Cranks?’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘One-ish?’
    ‘Make it half past. Mrs Shaw’s given me enough work to sink a battleship.’
    I wondered if ‘Mrs Shaw’ was within earshot. Something in Suzanne’s voice told me that she might be.
    ‘I should think so too,’ I said, trying to keep it light. ‘There’s nothing worse than secretaries lolling around offices, filing their nails and making extra dust for the cleaners.’
    Suzanne, clearly, was not amused. ‘Huh!’ she said... That was it – Just ‘Huh!’.
    And then she put the phone down.
     
    But she met me at the café bang on time.
    And we managed to find seats, despite the lunchtime crush.
    Suzanne bought salad and a roll. I had black coffee and a dish of trifle.
    ‘Your diet’s terrible,’ she said.
    ‘I know, I don’t get many treats in life.’
    ‘Not even Saturday night?’ Her blue-grey eyes were sharp as she glanced at me. Her hands – busy with her knife and fork, were shoving bulgar wheat and bean sprout salad around her plate with rapid aimlessness. ‘Actually,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’
    This was a relief. I took a deep breath.
    ‘How did things go with Mary after we’d left last night?’ I asked.
    ‘How do you think?’
    ‘I don’t know. I’m not surprised she’s feeling insecure though. There’s a hell of a lot of speculation going on about you and Turner.’
    Suzanne looked sulky and said nothing. I could feel her anger simmering just beneath the surface.
    ‘Thing is,’ I said, measuring my words very carefully. ‘I don’t know whether to believe it myself.’
    ‘Believe what you like.’ Suzanne finally got round to putting some salad in her mouth, effectively shutting herself up for a while.
    ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Turner says there’s nothing going on.’
    Suzanne swallowed. ‘Well then,’ she said. ‘If Turner says there’s nothing going on, there’s nothing going on.’
    The anger was leaking into her voice now. And I could hear the brittleness again, unfamiliar and unsettling.
    I watched her carefully, trying to understand.
    ‘Look,’ she said. ‘If Mary can’t handle me working with someone like Turner that’s her problem. She’s turning into such a neurotic old cow, I’m getting to the stage where I don’t care what she thinks anymore.’
    I don’t know why I was shocked, but I was.
    ‘You two were really happy once,’ I said, staring down at my trifle.
    ‘Well, God knows we’re miserable now.’ Suzanne raised an eyebrow as she half-quoted Morrissey. ‘Y’know Gill, I reckon you must have read too much Barbara Cartland when you were a teenager.... So this is going to surprise you... but love isn’t always about living happily ever after. Sometimes it’s about waking up morning after morning and wondering how you’re going to keep up