Best of Friends. Cathy Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ balefully at Lizzie. ‘Tonsillitis again. They were both a little off form this morning, but now Daniel’s started vomiting.’

      From his vantage point in Sally’s arms, Daniel stuck out his tongue to prove how sick he was, obviously used to doing it so people could look at his tonsils.

      ‘Poor Daniel,’ soothed Lizzie. ‘Have you got a sore throat?’

      He nodded tearfully, big brown eyes looking like a doleful puppy’s.

      ‘And are you sick too, Jack?’ Lizzie asked his brother.

      ‘Yes,’ said Jack croakily, looking just as miserable.

      They were both big children, too big for the petite Sally to carry any more, Lizzie thought. She looked exhausted.

      From behind the reception desk, Lizzie produced the box of kids’ toys she’d tidied up earlier. Jack wasn’t too ill to fall happily onto the colourful jungle train, and was soon banging each animal, making it wail, roar or chatter. Daniel, however, clung to his mother and refused to be put down.

      ‘The wait won’t be long, Sally,’ Lizzie reassured her.

      ‘I feel terrible. I should have brought them first thing.’ Sally’s face was creased with guilt. ‘I thought I’d stay home from work and see how they got on, and then Daniel began to be sick and every time I changed him, he’d be sick again, so it’s taken us an hour and a half to leave the house. And Steve’s in bits because work is a nightmare since his boss left last month, and he’s got to do everything.’ She looked so wretched, with her normally glossy dark hair tied back into a limp knot, and her grey fleece stained with dried sick on one shoulder. Lizzie decided emergency measures were called for.

      ‘You need a cup of tea,’ she said, hurrying to boil the kettle.

      Then she produced the ultimate bribe of chocolate buttons, and Daniel grudgingly got onto the floor with Jack to play jungle train.

      ‘They’re soft, so they won’t hurt your throats,’ she said, dividing the chocolate between the two boys. Then she gave Sally a big mug of tea and an oatmeal biscuit.

      ‘It’s my medicine.’ She smiled, sitting down beside Sally.

      ‘You’re so kind, Lizzie. I suspect that’s why people tell you things,’ Sally said, gratefully drinking the tea.

      ‘They tell you things too,’ Lizzie pointed out. ‘The salon’s like a confessional, with people revealing all sorts of stuff to you as they lie back being pampered.’

      A faint grin touched Sally’s wan cheeks. ‘I think I’m too distracted this week to have anyone want to tell me their secrets,’ she said. ‘I’m worried about the boys and their tonsils, and I’m worried about poor Steve. He’s working himself into the ground. I ought to make an appointment for myself too,’ she added. ‘I’ve been feeling a bit run down lately. Nothing out of the ordinary,’ she went on, ‘just I’m a bit weary. Mind you, isn’t everyone?’

      ‘It’s good to hear you worrying a bit about yourself,’ Lizzie soothed, checking the appointment book. ‘You do too much, Sally. Running the salon, taking care of the boys and Steve…’

      Sally laughed. ‘I don’t do too much,’ she said. ‘I don’t do half enough. You want to see the pile of ironing…’

      ‘You never stop,’ Lizzie said firmly.

      ‘Don’t bother getting me an appointment yet, Lizzie,’ Sally replied. ‘I’ll phone you for one when I’ve got time. Ruby’s away so the salon is madly busy, and Delia, Steve’s mother, is off on holiday soon, so she won’t be able to look after the boys, so I’ll be running round like a headless chicken for a few weeks. I’ll come and see the doctor after that.’

      ‘You have to look after your health,’ Lizzie said, waggling a finger in mock disapproval.

      ‘I promise I’ll phone you when everything calms down,’ Sally said.

      The door to the doctor’s room opened and the last patient emerged with Dr Morgan close behind.

      Lizzie got up to see the patient out, and Clare Morgan led an eager Jack into her office.

      ‘Thanks, Lizzie, you’re a star,’ whispered Sally as she got up to follow with Daniel.

      

      On Thursday, Lizzie had a day off and Gwen arrived to take her shopping. They were not looking for clothes for Lizzie, who had already bought her wedding outfit – a lemon suit, which was the subject of much worry. She went to the spare-room wardrobe and looked at it every few weeks, hoping that the yellow colour wasn’t quite as sharp and hard as she remembered. It had looked fine in the shop during the heady days of the previous year’s August sales, when the thought of getting a bargain had outweighed all other considerations. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

      ‘Could I sell it in the small ads?’ she asked Gwen idly. ‘“Mother-of-the-bride outfit. Never worn. Makes MOTB look like before picture in makeover article.”’

      ‘You wouldn’t get the proper value of it,’ advised Gwen. ‘Sure, just plaster more make-up on for the wedding and you’ll be fine.’ Today’s trip was to buy clothes for Gwen and Shay’s cruise. Ten days on the Star of the Mediterranean in April would require lots of outfits, and Gwen, who wasn’t usually even vaguely interested in what she wore, had entered into the whole cruising notion with great vim and vigour. She’d been scouring the local boutiques for nautical outfits, and had gone so far as to make a list of suitable evening clothes from her own wardrobe so that she could be sure of not doubling up on anything.

      Lizzie thought this was unlikely. Gwen’s life had not lent itself to cocktail gowns. A passionate knitter, she was far more likely to be remembered for her selection of oatmeal-coloured sweaters that could keep out even an Arctic chill. Unlike Lizzie, who could never resist colourful tops and flowing, gypsy skirts, Gwen preferred sensible outfits. Even her hair was sensible: cut short without any artifice covering the grey.

      ‘Shay’s giving out yards about having to buy a dinner jacket,’ said Gwen when they were both settled in her car and driving at a sedate pace down Lizzie’s street. ‘I told him to shut his trap and stop whingeing. I said you’d come with me if he didn’t. That shut him up.’

      Lizzie grinned. Gwen and Shay had already warmly invited her to go with them, saying she hadn’t had a holiday for years and she’d be welcome.

      ‘You don’t want me along,’ Lizzie insisted. ‘You’ve both been saving for this for years and it’s special.’ She didn’t add that as well as being completely broke she hated to feel like the third wheel, and even Gwen and Shay, who hardly qualified for love’s young dream and who bickered amiably twenty-four hours a day, could do without a gooseberry. The world seemed very coupley these days and Lizzie felt like a gooseberry a lot of the time.

      ‘Did I tell you about the jumper I got in Marks?’ Gwen continued. ‘Pale blue ribbed cotton. The girl at the till said it was very Ralph Lauren, whoever he is when he’s at home. I told her I was going on a cruise. She was dead jealous, I can tell you. Everyone is jealous!’

      In the shopping centre, Gwen headed straight for the sort of glossy clothes shop she’d never stepped into before in her life. She bypassed sensible coats and tweedy skirts СКАЧАТЬ