Page 25 of Lost Luggage
Dolly explained what she’d done with the other belongings. ‘I don’t think I saw you at the balloon debate.’
‘Tonsillitis. I was holed up in front of the telly being fed ice cream by Granddad. He still thinks I’m two, not twenty-two. Steve told me about your date night. If it’s any consolation, my evening there went no better. I quite liked one bloke, but then the police turned up…’
‘I saw an officer.’
‘My date had paid for his drinks with a stolen credit card.’
‘He never! One of mine was a plumber and kept telling me that the word plumbing comes from the Latinplumbum. He made terrible jokes about bottoms.’
‘He sounds like a right plumbum to me,’ Phoebe said.
Blink and you’d miss it: Phoebe had dimples.
Dolly told her about Flo and the deal they’d made but skimmed over how the last year had been difficult. She didn’t mention Greta, didn’t say how she’d hardly gone out, how the bungalow was a mess, how the doctor was worried. Instead, she talked about Guides, the Personal Brand badge, Leroy and their trip to IKEA. Sculling her hands through the water, Phoebe listened.
Dolly’s ears turned red. ‘I don’t think I’ve said that much in one go to anyone this last year. Not even Maurice.’
‘A friend?’
‘A fish. He likes frozen peas and the Bee Gees.’
Those dimples hung around a little longer this time.
‘Have you completed all of your firsts so far, apart from the balloon debate you missed and the trip to Paris you had to cut short?’ asked Dolly.
‘Yes, but it’s not been easy. One was a taster day at a martial arts centre. That was especially difficult for someone like me.’ Phoebe jerked her head towards the silver ladders and suggested coffee, hastening to add it was her granddad’s idea. But Dolly was running late for her afternoon with Flo and Leroy. Phoebe’s shoulders sagged very slightly. Dolly’s world had grown so small this last year, she saw the tiny things.
‘But how about… only if you want to… lunch this week, in the Rising Sun?’ suggested Dolly. ‘Say, Wednesday, midday? Steve says there’s a drink there with my name written on it.’
‘Dotty, isn’t it? I don’t know… I only came back to apologise. I actually work in the pet shop around the corner but I don’t take my break if it’s busy. Lunch wouldn’t be possible.’
‘No break? That’s illegal. You should tell your boss you’ve got an appointment. You don’t have to ask for what’s due to you.’
‘I’m not always hungry at lunchtime,’ Phoebe said, arms curling around her body.
‘Then order a snack.’
‘Steve’s food doesn’t suit me.’
Why was she making excuses when she’d been happy to go for coffee and the Rising Sun was local?
‘I’d love to tell you more about that balloon debate. For a start, I got heckled…’ Dolly gave a small smile. ‘I’ll leave my name and number at the pool’s reception desk. Text me if you want to meet. Oh, and if Steve puts pen to glass, my name’s actually Dolly.’
19
‘Dolly might meet Phoebe for lunch this Wednesday,’ Flo informed Leroy, swinging her backpack as she trotted into his hallway.
‘Can’t see it happening,’ said Dolly.
The three of them walked into Leroy’s lounge. The red leather sofa had been replaced by the grey one from IKEA, punctuated with cream cushions and with an armchair to match. The orange carpet was now beech laminate. Abstract pale colour prints hung in place of the rich still life oil paintings. The new smart drinks rack showed off military lines of wine, its frame free from scratches, unlike the old cherry wood one.
‘Wow,’ said Flo. ‘It’s all so… vanilla. That’s a word Mum uses for—’
‘Things that are really… classy, right, Flo?’ said Dolly quickly.
At least the new fire looked cosy. Leroy flicked it on and the simulated flames did a rumba. Flo wanted to know where he’d put his board games. They were tidied away in the loft. Minimalism was the modern way. Leroy had read up on it, and would buy white cabinets to go under the window, for his LPs. The room may have looked simple but actually everything was thought through. Clutter slowed you down, he explained. This more spacious approach was the best way to live for busy people who had deadlines.
Dolly refrained from pointing out he’d retired. He strutted into his kitchen. Skinny chinos today. The three of them sat at his kitchen table. Leroy dished out large slices of carrot cake. A piece of grated carrot stuck in Dolly’s teeth. The cake was full of vitamin A, he explained, low in fat, and that cream on top was dairy-free. In no time at all Leroy’s new clothes would fit. He’d bought everything one size too small, to motivate him.
