Page 29 of Lost Luggage
Phoebe smiled. ‘I’ve lost a lot of friends. Like you, I stopped replying to messages. I don’t blame them for giving up.’
‘I thought you were middle-aged… You mentioned, in the notebook, that not all of your friends had made it to your age, but you’re only—’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘You said that dropping out, after doing the second year of your French degree, felt like “a lifetime ago”.’
‘It does.’
Time was funny like that. Some years dragged, others raced. Now and again Dolly still made tea for two, as if Greta had only been gone a few hours.
‘Did something happen? Were those friends in an accident?’
Phoebe’s face hardened.
‘Sorry. There I go again.’ Dolly cleared her throat. ‘Right, I’d better settle the bill. Thanks for meeting me. Good luck with the next challenge. I’m grateful for having done a few.’ She told Phoebe more about the deal she’d made with Flo and how her young neighbour was going to miss the excitement of finding out the next month’s first. Phoebe couldn’t help laughing over the practice speed dates.
‘You’re a great role model, Phoebe Goodbody, and this Maisie must be a good friend.’ Dolly held out her hand.
A pained expression crossed Phoebe’s face before she slipped her fingers into Dolly’s. Dolly went to get up but Phoebe didn’t let go.
‘The next one is going to be even harder. It might… I mean, only if you want… it’s no big deal… but it would make it easier to see someone else suffer as well.’ Dimples appeared.
‘It’s not wild swimming is it? I once got bitten by a crab.’ It was on one of the weekends she and Fred had gone to Blackpool. He’d been more upset than her.
‘Do you watch bake-off programmes on telly?’
‘Greta and I used to. When she was alive I enjoyed baking, although the taste was always more important than the appearance, to me. I would never have the patience to make a show-stopper that took four hours.’ Although pride flowed through Dolly when she thought of the knack she used to have for turning out tasty cakes, biscuits and pies. Dolly’s baking never failed to make Greta close her eyes and utter a heartfelt sigh of delight.
She hadn’t baked without her sister around. What was the point for one person?
‘My gran was a huge fan, a prolific baker and always tried to get me into the kitchen to help her out,’ said Phoebe. ‘But I only bought ready-made stuff at university. Maisie read about a bake-off experience in the Trafford Centre and we both reckoned my gran would have loved me to take part. It’s popular for hen parties, birthday celebrations, for team-building exercises. The ticket includes all the ingredients. You bake in pairs.’ Phoebe twisted the bobble on one of her plaits. ‘Five pairs are given the same recipe and two hours to complete it. Then they sit down for afternoon tea, eating what they’ve made, trying everyone else’s… The winners get a trophy and their tickets refunded.’
‘Me? Go in for a bake-off?’ Dolly clenched her teeth. ‘I’m not sure I could make a cake rise, these days.’
‘I’m not keen either. I don’t mind making a fool of myself baking but… for other reasons, this is more of a challenge than speed-dating, a balloon debate or heading to Paris on my own. Even more scary than swimming.’
Dolly had thought meeting Phoebe would answer all her questions but it had only thrown up more.
‘When is it?’ Dolly asked.
‘The middle of April. Thursday the fourteenth. I booked it months ago. It’s the day before Good Friday.’
To Dolly’s surprise, Greta used to enjoy visiting the Trafford Centre, with the extravagant decor, the Roman pillars, the palm trees, the massive food hall built around a steam ship. Everything about the place was over the top, but Greta would say going there was more like a holiday than just a trip to a shopping centre. And being under cover, it became practical with the wheelchair. Dolly used to like people-watching and missed their visits. And the Lindt chocolate shop had the most amazing pick ’n’ mix counter.
‘I suppose I could drive…’ Dolly said.
A wide smile crossed Phoebe’s face.
‘Blimey, our kid,’ cut in a gravelly voice. ‘I’d almost forgotten what a good investment those dental braces were. Now, introduce me, lass, to the wonderful lady who returned your notebook.’
Phoebe rolled her eyes and pulled out a chair as a man approached in shoes that looked well polished but not especially stylish. Dolly lifted her head to the khaki parka. ‘Give over, Granddad. What are you doing here?’
‘Taking an interest in my granddaughter’s life. No law against that is there? I also fancied a stroll and lunchtime pint. If you can’t do that in your retirement, it’s a sad old life.’
‘Same as usual, Wilfred?’ called Steve from behind the bar.
The man nodded and took off his flat cap. Dolly stared at the streaks of white in his hair, the strong nose slightly slanted to one side. She gripped the table as his smile flatlined.
