Five French Hens. Judy Leigh

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      ‘Like bungee jumping, do you mean?’ Tess pulled a face. ‘Like a bucket list?’

      ‘Bucket lists depress me,’ Rose mumbled. ‘I don’t like the idea of doing something quickly, before you die, in case you miss out. But I do like the idea of doing something because the opportunity is there and the desire is there, spontaneously.’

      Della thought for a moment. ‘I think I’m guilty of drifting – you know, just putting things off until tomorrow.’

      ‘But you are happy, Della.’ Tess sipped her wine. ‘Life is good for you. I spend far too much time being disappointed, disgruntled.’

      Rose laughed. ‘So do I, Tess. We should make a change.’

      ‘But I don’t know how to change for the best. If I left Alan, it would be chaos. Besides, we do get on, sometimes.’

      ‘Is that enough?’ Rose raised her eyebrows. ‘Bernard and I used to bicker. I thought it was enough to make me happy, a marriage, and another person around the house, but is it really the only option?’

      Elvis barked, leaping up on Pam’s knee. She rubbed his ears and he settled down. ‘I often think how times have changed.’ She sighed. ‘Young women now do their own thing so much better than we did. We thought we had it all in the 1960s – we were independent, we had freedom. I was a bit of a hippy – you know, free love and festivals and all that. But it was just another excuse for men to have everything on their own terms. They can be a bit controlling, some of them.’ She sighed again, her face temporarily sad. ‘We were still chattels, something to look good on their arm – second best in terms of opportunity, despite Germaine Greer.’

      Della nodded. ‘I was glad I married early. But although motherhood is a blessing, my boys wore me out. Young women nowadays have it much better than we did. They have cleaners, childminders, house-husbands.’

      ‘And wonderful careers.’ Tess leaned forward. ‘They can own their own cars, houses. They keep their own names when they are married, they do as they please. We got it all wrong. Did you see those women in the restaurant at Felipiano’s? Short skirts, lashings of lipstick – in touch with their own sexuality. Flaunting it. I’d love to be like that. They were loud, proud, enjoying themselves.’

      Jen grinned. ‘We gave them a run for their money that night, though.’

      ‘We did.’ Tess laughed. ‘There’s life in us all yet…’

      ‘Right.’ Rose put her elbows on the table. ‘That’s it. We can do what they did – better, even. We need to organise a hen party for Jen.’

      ‘Just like theirs – what a great idea.’ Tess scooped up the last of her apple cake.

      ‘We could do cocktails again,’ Jen agreed. ‘At the Havana Bar and Felipiano’s. It was a lovely night.’

      ‘I’d go there again. I really enjoyed it. We could have L-plates, angel wings.’ Tess licked her lips. ’What about a stripper? You know, a fireman… with a hosepipe and a thong?’

      ‘Maybe…’ Pam shrugged. ‘But perhaps cocktails and an Italian meal don’t make a real hen party.’

      Jen raised her eyebrows. ‘The women at the other table seemed to be having a great time. I’d be happy with us going there, all together, having fun.’

      ‘Yes.’ Pam glanced at Rose, who had closed her eyes and was thinking. ‘But it’s hardly the same as Las Vegas. Eddie will be away having a special time, bonding, seeing shows, gambling – not doing something anyone could do any weekend. We should come up with something else – something a bit more fun.’

      ‘Something a bit wilder?’ Della put her hands to her face. ‘Like a nightclub? There are some good ones in Exeter.’

      ‘Or what about a hen party in London?’ Tess sat upright. ‘Goodness me – we could do an overnight in London.’

      ‘Good idea.’ Pam smiled. ’A whole weekend. That would be a real chance to let our hair down.’

      ‘Rubbish.’ Rose opened her eyes wide. Her face was set, determined. ‘A night in London? We can do better than that.’ She looked from one face to the other. ‘We’re going to the City of Love itself, Paris. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll have the best hen party possible. We’ll make our own plans and it’ll be tailor-made by us for the most fun we can have. Let’s grab this opportunity. Say yes – let’s do it.’

      The women looked at each other, their eyes wide. Then Pam raised her wine glass. ‘All right. Let’s all go to Paris. What do you think, Jen?’

      Jen’s face shone as she lifted her tumbler of water. ‘Why not? Paris it is.’

      The five of them held their glasses aloft and chimed them together. ‘To Paris,’ they chorused.

      8

      ‘I said I’d go to Paris, but I’ll have to tell them I can’t go now.’ Della’s face was sad as she pushed the trolley down the frozen-food aisle. She reached for a bag of peas.

      Sylvester took over trolley duties. ‘I don’t see why. You’ve never been to Paris before. You should go.’

      Della threw the peas in the trolley, as if she was throwing away the idea of a holiday with the girls. ‘It’s not right.’

      ‘How so?’

      ‘You work every day in that shabby old van on the seafront. You deserve the holiday. If anyone should go it should be you.’

      Sylvester chuckled. ‘You’re sending me on a hen holiday with four women?’ He flapped his arms like a chicken’s wings. ‘Sounds fine to me.’

      ‘We should go, you and me, just the two of us. It’s the city of romance.’

      He paused in front of the battered fish and put his arm around her. ’I have romance every day with you, Della. I have enough put by, a few pounds, but it’s enough for you to go to Paris with your girlfriends. I’ll be just fine. I might even enjoy the freedom.’

      ‘You mean you’ll be drinking every night while I’m gone?’

      ‘I could go to London to see Aston and Cassandra, maybe meet up with Linval. It’s tough for him since he split with Sariah and she took the kids. We could go to the Carpenter’s Arms together. I could take a long weekend to catch up.’

      Della sighed. ‘OK, but I’ll miss you when I’m in Paris.’

      He kissed her on the lips. ‘And I’ll miss you. So, it’s decided, my sweetheart. You go, have the time of your life. Just stay away from all those French Casanovas, or they’ll have me to deal with.’

      ‘Are you sure it’s all right, Sylvester?’

      He adjusted his glasses and studied a bag of oven chips before throwing them in the trolley. ‘You deserve the break. Of course, you must go.’ He winked at her. ‘And if you enjoy it, then maybe we can save up some more and the two of us can go together next time. A sort of second СКАЧАТЬ