Page 92 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
I detoured by way of Rani’s Minimart on the walk home, to replenish my supplies of ice cream in case I should be in need of comfort food later. Simon seemed to be a bottomless pit, as far as ice cream was concerned, and after three helpings last night had scraped out the last bit in the tub.
Golightly demanded his dinner with menaces as soon as I appeared, but I locked the cat flap before I fed him. I wanted him to get into the habit of staying in after dinner, although actually his day’s activities seemed to exhaust him so much that it probably never crossed his mind to go out again.
Tonight he fell asleep on the armchair while only halfway through washing the dinner off his whiskers and didn’t even stir while I was getting ready to go out.
I was curious to see Thom’s cottage. It occurred to me that if the book group rotated around all the members’ houses, I’d have to get a couple more chairs, and make that loose cover for the sofa.
I arrived at Thom’s front door at the same time as Simon and Pearl, and since the vicar, Baz, Derek and Ginny had all just appeared in the entrance to the mews, we waited for them.
‘We look like a bunch of out-of-season carol singers!’ Jo-Jo said, as Simon rapped on the door. I’d felt a little shy at meeting her again after pouring my heart out like that earlier, but she beamed at me so kindly when she caught my eye that the feeling immediately evaporated.
When Thom let us in, I was surprised to find his cottage was much bigger than mine. It stretched back a long way and I could see through a door at the far end of the living room into a kitchen beyond.
The room was cosy in a slightly Scandinavian way, with pale, natural wood floors, lots of sheepskin rugs, walls painteda sort of soft, misty blue-grey and a real log burner on a small stone hearth.
The furniture was all beautifully handcrafted in natural wood, and I recognized one or two pieces from his London house.
The warm day had turned into a chilly evening and the stove had been lit. Jester, who had been lying in front of it, got up to greet us enthusiastically.
‘Sit down, and I’ll make us some coffee,’ Thom said. ‘I forgot to go out and get anything to eat, but I’ve got some biscuits somewhere …’
‘It’s OK,’ said the Rev. handing him a large white card cake box. ‘I stopped at the bakery earlier and thought I’d buy a cake, because my house is too far away to hold the meetings there, and it’s only fair I should chip in.’
‘You didn’t need to – but cake is always appreciated!’ said Thom, opening the box. ‘Chocolate, too – my favourite.’
‘The book group will be at Simon’s place next week – he has a flat over the workshop,’ Ginny told me. ‘Then Baz and Derek’s, then me.’
‘I could have the one after you in my cottage,’ I suggested. ‘It will be a bit of a squash, but there should be enough room – if we can persuade my cat to give up his favourite armchair.’
I offered to help Thom with the coffee out of sheer curiosity to see more of the house, and Pearl came, too.
The kitchen was long, very modern and well-equipped, with a dining table at the further end in front of glazed doors. I wandered down to look out on a small gravelled yard with pots.
‘We’re lucky on this side of the mews because we have tiny gardens at the back,’ Pearl said, putting the cake on a plate, while Thom switched on the coffee machine. ‘These cottagesused to have their own outside loos, too – the height of luxury at the time.’
‘I suppose it was,’ agreed Thom. ‘When I bought this house, it had a dingy little bathroom leading right off this kitchen, but I had that moved upstairs.’
‘Honey did the same in mine, which is why I’ve got a utility room but only one bedroom,’ I said.
Back in the living room, when we’d all been provided with coffee and cake, we settled down to a lively discussion about our favourite children’s books.
When I confessed that I often still read my Enid Blyton, especially the Adventure series, Baz said he did too, and we rambled around Beatrix Potter, E. Nesbit, Arthur Ransome and many others, before moving forward in time to more recent offerings.
‘I like Ursula Le Guin,’ said Ginny. ‘And anything with dragons in it … and of course,’ she added, with a sly look at Thom, ‘Iadoredthe Silvermann books. So much better than the films!’
‘I’ve never read them,’ said Thom blandly and probably truthfully.
‘I’ve only seen the films,’ I said. ‘And ages after they came out, because I was brought up miles from a cinema. They weren’t really my cup of tea, either. A group of special children brought up in isolation from their parents … an alternative world with invisible monsters that might or might not exist – I found it all very baffling.’
‘I haven’t seen any of them, or read the books,’ said Pearl. ‘But I do rereadThe Box of Delightsby John Masefield and the Narnia chronicles of C. S. Lewis.’
‘How aboutThe Lord of the Rings?’ said Baz. ‘Would you call that a children’s book?’
‘No, I’d call it a boring adult trilogy with a distinct lack of decent female characters,’ retorted Ginny, and we were off again into a wider discussion.
After an hour or so, we all adjourned to the pub, only pausing briefly at Fallen Idle so Pearl could sell Jo-Jo a copy ofThe Box of Delights, which she had expressed an interest in reading.
Rosa-May
