‘Like what?’ I asked, intrigued by her eager expression.
‘Well, I enjoy the ballroom dancing lessons we have in the hall. I always think younger people should get involved, it’s really made for them. Some of the dances are impossible, you wish you had more flexibility and energy. The Lindy Hop is beyond me. But you’re young, you’ll have the energy, and so many are great fun too.’ She added, ‘You can really connect when you’re dancing, it’s so intimate, having to read each other’s body language, anticipate the moves . . . ’
I screwed up my nose.
‘Or board games,’ she said, sensing my reticence. ‘A simple evening sitting round a table together playing something as a group. It can be an excellent way to spend time.’
‘That could work,’ I mused.
‘Oh, I’m so pleased,’ she said, her face turning almost as pink as her hat.
‘Do you want to hold my hand, we might be more confident together?’ I offered her my gloved hand and she took it and we set off round the ice at a steady pace.
‘I’m doing it, I’m doing it,’ Margaret cried out as she started to grow in confidence. Grandad lifted a hand as we both passed and we nearly crashed trying to return it.
‘Your grandad is a nice man,’ Margaret said.
‘You should spend more time together. This group seems really friendly,’ I said.
‘There are lots of different things going on at the club but we don’t often come together in smaller groups like this. The men seem very close, it’s lovely to see.’ Margaret smiled as Geoffrey and Grandad were spotted in the distance, holding each other up on the ice.
‘That’s the golf, I think,’ I said. ‘Grandma always called herself a golf widow. It’s such a shame you don’t get to play with them too.’
‘Oh, the men-only tradition goes back years,’ Margaret said reverentially. ‘There was enormous panic when they gave us a half day.’
‘So?’ I snorted. ‘It’s wrong. You should do something about it.’ I was distracted then by a boy with ginger hair and a terrified expression bearing down on us. Margaret, who had grown thoughtful by my side, was saying, ‘Do you know, Lottie, maybe I will.’ I twisted to protect her, shouting, ‘Watch ouuuuuu—’ before the boy swept between us and we all tumbled down together.
Margaret survived, leaving in tentative steps. Just before setting off again I called over to Howard, who turned away from Paula and stepped gingerly towards me. I couldn’t help staring at his mouth, tongue and lips, which were now entirely Slush Puppie blue, as if an inkpot had exploded inside him.
‘You getting on soon, Howard?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be on ice.’ He leaned closer to me, lowering his voice. ‘I’m more at ease on dry land.’
‘Wasn’t this your idea?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t think anyone would actually go for it. It was a joke. I should have shut up once I’d got them all on Tinder. That’s the problem with being a natural leader.’
‘Come on, Howard,’ Paula said, beckoning him with a long scarlet talon, her other hand holding something grey and furry, ‘you can put your hands in my muff if you like.’
Howard’s mouth fell open, a large, stained navy blue maw, as I exploded into giggles beside him.
‘Good God,’ he whispered to me as he reached to take her hand and stepped on to the ice.
Darling Cora,
I had a text message from the daughter of the Nando’s lady who ghosted me: it transpires she died! Which is obviously very sad, but also, terribly, a small relief. I just didn’t want to think she had seen me sitting in Nando’s and run a mile.
That’s terrible, isn’t it? The poor woman.
Although I am a trifle cross with myself because in a fit of paranoia I gifted the jacket and Robert Redford checked shirt to the charity shop, assuming they had had a bearing on my rejection. Maybe I could purchase them back?
Certainly the world of modern dating is extremely eyeopening. Howard is now threatening to take us all speed dating but Geoffrey has point-blank refused and he can be stubborn when he wants to be. Instead we came up with a few alternatives – the most fun part of this ridiculous scheme has been spending more time with the boys and getting to know others from Maplelands club better.
A few nights ago we all went to a youth roller disco on ice! Lottie came too and she and Margaret spent some time together. She’s a nice lady, Margaret, and I’m glad Lottie has someone she can talk to, woman to woman so to speak: I know she misses you terribly. It has been wonderful to catch glimpses of the old, relaxed Lottie again: I think we’re getting her back, Cora.
The biggest surprise of the evening was Arjun, who proved to be a secret ice-skating marvel. At one point he was skating backwards talking to Paula, his legs moving in a figure of eight like a graceful, elderly cast member warming up for Strictly. I do believe Paula was a little put out (she lost her muff trying to keep up). Skating on ice is probably not going to prove to be a new hobby for me, however. Geoffrey and I were both pretty hopeless, although we were fortunate enough to fall down only twice. He did teach me all the moves to the ‘Macarena’, which he says is a popular youth dance, so the evening wasn’t completely wasted.
All these activities seem to have put even more of a rocket up Howard and he came over last night to get me on to an ‘app’ called ‘Happn’. We discovered half the club, including Arjun, were on it too. It is done by location so now Howard wants to create a fake profile and arrange to meet up with Arjun. I have obviously vetoed such an idea unless Arjun does something that annoys me, in which case I will give Howard the green light. And you always said I wasn’t mature!
Although I have zero interest in really meeting anyone on these ‘online platforms’, I am enjoying the japes and doing something other than moping about remembering how much I love you and the cruel fact that you are no longer here. I laugh more now and I am grateful to have friends who haven’t given up on me. I never really knew how lucky I was until now: they are a tonic.
I love you, Cora, it will always be more fun with you by my side but I am trying, every day, to live my life and enjoy these moments while I have them.
Teddy x
Chapter 15
Love is like a flower: it needs tending to for it to grow
TERRY, 84
It was the weekend of Amy’s hen do. We’d spent approximately 15 weeks and 783 emails finding the date that suited everyone. Shift work, childcare, weddings, other hen dos had to be navigated around. Amy’s sister, Natalie – the other bridesmaid and the biggest control freak I’d ever met – had stepped in when I’d proved useless. And now it was here. I had been in charge of bringing the novelty balloons and penis straws, which Luke had discovered and been using to drink his nightly water with that week.
‘That’s gross,’ I said, pointing to him as he slurped.
He looked up, grinning at me. ‘You brought them into our lives.’
‘But I . . . you . . . ’
He continued to slurp loudly.
I gave up and walked out of the room, listening to his low chuckle.