Vintage Babes (15 page)

She gave an awkward smile, as if wondering if he was taking the mickey. But Jenny is pretty and if she slimmed down, would be even prettier. She has an open, cheery face and curly mid-blonde hair, streaked with increasing strands of grey. I tint away the grey – my hair is dark brown and it’s straight – but so far she has resisted. Seems Bruce is scathing about women who dye their hair. A daft attitude, if you ask me, when so many do and, half the time, you can’t tell. Plenty of men wield the dye bottle, too. Including, I felt sure, the russet-haired Russell.

‘Me, a stunner?’ Jenny said warily. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I do. And you should accept compliments, accept them with grace and pride. If you want to slim that bod keep a diet diary for five days – just eat normally and list everything – then I’ll check it out and advise, as part of the assessment. Do you take any regular exercise?’ Max asked, speaking to both of us. We shook our heads. ‘Then you should put time aside each day to go through some of the exercises we’ve done here, plus you should walk whenever possible, instead of using the car. Unleash the goddess within.’ He cocked a brow. ‘I guess that hundred pounds is beginning to seem like good value?’

Jenny nodded, smiling and won over. ‘I’m happy with it.’

‘How about you?’ he asked me. ‘Come on, babe, I have to eat, plus I’m saving up to finance my own health club. Though at the rate I’m going it’ll take some time, unless I can find a backer.’

‘I understood you were an actor,’ I said.

‘I am, but two strings to my bow, y’know.’

I hesitated. I don’t like to be unfairly separated from my hard-earned cash, yet his offer of an assessment lured. ‘A hundred pounds it is.’

Max grinned. ‘On Thursday I’ll have a one-to-one with each of you when we can discuss goals, expectations and the way forward. But in the meantime I’d like to suggest something to use as a mantra – if you believe it, you can achieve it. Now, together, what d’ya say?’

‘If you believe it, you can achieve it,’ Jenny and I repeated obediently, though in my case reluctantly.

I’m not into chants and subservience to a guru. And if he was thinking of moving on to air-punching hoorahs or group hugs, he could count me out. I also possess a finely tuned bullshit detector which, over the session, had emitted several bleeps.

Max was collecting up the mats and skipping ropes, and fitting them inside a large holdall, when Tina returned.

‘That was Joe, Joe Fernandez,’ she told us, as giggly as a teenager. ‘He’s offered me a job on his next series, introducing the guests – if I want it. The series is scheduled to start next January, but before then he’d like me to appear on one of the current shows, to remind everyone I’m still around. And still tasty, so Joe says.’ She giggled again. ‘He’s arranging for his agent to contact me, with a view to bringing my name back into the limelight.’

‘Way to go!’ Max exclaimed. ‘And remember, success is not a doorway, it’s an elevator. You could end up a star.’

‘Would you like to be on television again?’ Jenny enquired.

Tina pouted. ‘Don’t know. Maybe when I’m feeling better.’

Maybe when you know you’re looking better, I thought, for this morning her face was still a little drawn, as if she could still be having sleepless nights. But what was she worrying about – Duncan’s demise or her paucity of cash? Or had a second spider infiltrated the bathroom?

‘It’d be a nice little earner,’ I said.

‘Did Joe mention me?’ Max enquired, placing the music system inside his holdall. ‘Did he say if he’d spoken to those TV guys, the ones who might be able to put in a good word? And the ones who’re looking for fresh talent?’

Tina shook her head. ‘Sorry. Next time he calls, I’ll ask.’

‘Please do. I’m willing to audition at any time. Happy to discuss ideas. Their ideas and some I have of my own.’ Lifting the holdall, he placed his free arm around her waist. ‘How’s the grieving process going, babe? Bereavement is one heck of a shock to the system, but bear in mind that you’ll survive and be stronger,’ he declared, and steered her out of the conservatory.

‘Where do you reckon he finds his words of wisdom?’ I said. ‘Christmas crackers? Pop songs? Oprah Winfrey?’

‘Some of them made sense,’ Jenny protested.

‘Come on, the guy’s full of flannel. When he said denial is not just a river in Egypt, it’s something we must use to our advantage, I wanted to puke. And as for him claiming he can stop me smoking, who does he think he is, a miracle worker?’

‘You’d have to co-operate and give him a chance. Remember ‘if you believe it, you can achieve it’.’

I groaned. ‘You’re not hooked on Max, too, like Tina? Still I must say he is exceptionally well-hung, unless he has a pound of salami Sellotaped into place. I noticed you were fascinated.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Jenny objected, but her face reddened.

She walked over to look out at the garden, and I joined her. With a large oval lawn edged by flower beds which drifted into trees, it had patches of spring colour. Daffodils grew beneath a silver birch, a flowering white cherry spread wide branches, a carpet of snowdrops surrounded a statue, which made a focal point to one side of the garden. For the first forty years of my life I couldn’t have told a dahlia from a geranium, but I’ve developed quite a lust for horticulture. I even watch gardening programmes and – don’t laugh – take notes.

‘Is that a tennis court?’ Jenny asked, peering down the length of the lawn to a low hedge and land beyond.

‘It is. And it’s unused, judging from the weeds. It could do with a complete overhaul, like the house.’

I knew from my previous visit that the hall and kitchen were down-at-heel, but the living room and conservatory were also dilapidated. The conservatory could have, should have, been filled with lemon trees and orchids and other exotic plants – at least, that’s what my TV watching would’ve prompted me to do – but all it contained were two sagging wicker chairs and a rusted metal waste-paper basket. Shabby stuff. Presumably the upstairs was the same.

Jenny nodded. ‘I expected the house to be stylish and beautifully decorated, but it’s a big disappointment. Plus it needs a real good clean. Have you noticed the dust and all the cobwebs? The scuff marks on the carpets?’

‘Seems the housekeeper has departed –’

‘She must’ve been a lazy sort. It’s obvious the place hasn’t had a good top and bottoming for years.’

‘I guess – and I doubt Tina is much of an expert with a damp rag and a Dyson.’

‘No, though she probably can’t face the thought of housework right now. She says she’s coping, but she comes over as… delicate. Still perhaps Max’s counselling will help.’

‘Perhaps,’ I said, and we listened to the rumble of his voice as he continued to give his pep talk. ‘The hundred pounds was a shock. If you ask me, the guy’s got an eye to the main chance. I bet he doesn’t miss a trick when it comes to cash and I bet the mention of wanting to run his own health club and needing a backer was a hint that he’s looking for a sugar mummy.’

Jenny laughed. ‘One of us?’

‘Why not? I don’t have the wherewithal and you’re not in the market, but he doesn’t know that. Or maybe he thinks Tina can be persuaded.’ I hadn’t told Jenny about the widow’s money troubles. I hadn’t told anyone. As promised, I had kept my lips tight-zipped. ‘Seems Max got her husband to pay for some of his equipment. He probably spotted him flashing a roll of notes, which Duncan used to do, and decided to muscle in. Pun intended. And now he’ll be working on Tina.’

‘Cynic.’

‘You don’t fancy having a handsome virile younger man drooling over you, even if it is your cash he’s after? I wouldn’t mind stringing him along for a while and checking out the salami.’

Jenny chuckled. ‘Carol, you’re dreadful. I didn’t realise Max was an actor,’ she went on. ‘I’ve never seen him in anything and I’m sure I’d remember. Never read about him.’

‘Me neither. Call me cynical again, but I reckon you can take his acting career with a large pinch of salt. Though the guy is pure Hollywood. Did Victoria ring?’ I asked, recalling her anxiety.

‘Yes.’ She frowned. ‘She was in some backpackers’ hang-out. I could hear music and voices in the background and, well, she sounded merry.’

‘So you’re wetting your knickers? Jen, Victoria is a big girl and allowed to sip the amber nectar from time to time. And if she gets tipsy – haven’t we all?’

‘Not me,’ she said. ‘When I was nineteen I rarely drank alcohol and I never got drunk. In fact, I’ve only been drunk twice in my whole life. And I wasn’t staggering then, just a bit squiffy.’

I shook a wry head. There are times when it feels as if Jenny and I live in two different worlds. Although compared to today’s ladettes, my intake had been modest, I’d consumed cocktails and beer in my late teens, enjoyed spirits for a while and now relaxed with wine. And, on occasion, I have been known to slur my words and suffer dead-head hangovers.

Our sex lives are different, too. I lost my virginity to a fellow journalist and regularly slept with Tom before we were married. I can remember telling Jen how, as girl and boyfriend, we’d once gone to a hotel for a dirty weekend – and how horrified she had been.

‘Don’t know what you’ve missed,’ I told her, and listened.

In the distance there was the sound of a door closing, then the pad of footsteps as Tina returned.

‘What did you think of Max?’ she asked eagerly.

‘Well, larger than life –’ Jenny began.

‘And how,’ I inserted.

‘– but very pleasant and informative. He certainly knows his stuff.’

Tina nodded. ‘He does. And he is so wise. He was just telling me that, sad though it is, Duncan’s death should be viewed as a release. A release from him sliding into dementia and a release for me, not having to cope with him dribbling, feeding him with a spoon, the accidents in his trousers.’ She shuddered. ‘Duncan always said that if he dropped down dead tomorrow, he’d had a charmed life, so –’ She smiled, but a moment later her smile collapsed. ‘I hate being without him.’

‘Of course you do,’ I said.

Like Steve, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Yet I was also impatient with the way, at times, she seemed to cultivate the helplessness and play the frail Ophelia. Indeed, it was difficult to separate her genuine feelings from the play-acting.

‘Funnily enough I don’t mind sleeping in the house on my own – Duncan snored and I spent lots of nights in the spare room – and it’s nice to be able to watch ‘Footballers’ Wives’ and ‘Ab Fab’ without him grumbling, but when I sit down to breakfast and there’s just me –’

‘Recovering from his death will take time,’ Jenny said, then, as if afraid Tina might burst into tears, and desperate for a diversion, carried on, ‘We noticed you have a tennis court. Do you play?’

‘No. Last summer, when the weather was good, I worked out there with Max, but that’s the only action the court’s seen in years.’ She giggled. ‘Duncan used to remark on how whenever I went down there to exercise, Peter, from next door, always seemed to find a reason to be busy in his garden. But now he’s going to be busy in mine. I’ve paid off the gardener and I’m going to look after the flower beds myself, though it’ll wreck my nails, and Peter will cut the grass. He’s done it once already.’

‘That’s kind of him,’ I said.

‘It is. Beryl, his wife, doesn’t know. He cut it when she was out at one of her bridge games and that’s what he’ll do in future. Wait until she’s gone and the coast is clear, then come round.’ Tina giggled again. ‘Beryl would be spitting mad if she found out. And the best part is Peter doesn’t even cut his own grass, he has a gardener in. But he’s sweet on me, so –’ She smiled, then became thoughtful. ‘I could probably get Peter to marry me.’

‘He’s already married,’ Jenny protested.

‘And he has a huge nose and tufts of white hair sprouting from his ears,’ I said.