Chapter Eighteen
Rita was feeling anxious now that Henry had left her and disappeared into the ladies’ loo with his wife. Rita thought that was very odd. It wasn’t right for a man to go into the ladies’ toilet, not even if he was dead. She ought to go in too, but she really didn’t want to confront Imogen. Surely, he would come out soon.
She really didn’t like Ray much. He was too friendly and stood much too close for Rita’s liking. She didn’t like the smell of tobacco that emanated from him either. She was feeling quite tired now. It was something of a strain being the only person who could see Henry.
‘Hello Ray.’
Rita turned to see a brunette. She remembered her from the church.
‘Margo, how are you? Having semi-skimmed now I notice?’ Ray laughed and Rita spotted a black stained tooth at the back of his mouth.
‘I’m trying the healthy option,’ laughed Margo.
Her face clouded over and she added, ‘Terrible tragedy this, isn’t it?’
‘Sure is,’ said Ray.
‘I didn’t know him that well. Just neighbourly nods, you know, I can’t believe it.’
‘Yeah, tragic,’ said Ray, tucking into a bacon and pepper quiche.
‘How horrible,’ agreed Rita and wondered if they knew who the man was that had been in the church.
‘Could happen to any of us,’ said Margo with a sigh. ‘I think I’ll get another glass of wine,’ she said dabbing at her cheeks. ‘This is all too much for me.’
‘That’s not good for the diet,’ said Ray.
Margo turned to him with a smile.
‘Don’t you go leaving me full fat now? Semi-skimmed for me. I’ve got to give it a good try.’
Rita glanced across to the door of the ladies’ and saw Imogen walk out. Her face was red and blotchy and her eyes bloodshot. Rita’s heart went out to her and she wanted to rush over and tell Imogen that it was alright. Henry was alive and in fact, had only that moment been in the toilet with her. She then realised how insane she would sound. Imogen would no doubt become hysterical and everyone in the pub would turn on Rita as if she was the very devil himself. Rita’s nails dug into the flesh of her palms and she winced. It wasn’t true. She didn’t have the devil in her at all. It wasn’t the devil that had made her walk away from the bloodstained snow.
‘I’m going to leave her a bottle of orange juice tomorrow,’ said Ray, ‘on the house like.’
Rita rather thought that orange juice, as full of vitamin C as it was, wouldn’t put the spring back into Imogen’s step. Not even if she drank a bottle a day. But she thought it was kind of him. A bottle of orange juice was what Ray could offer. He seemed a nice person, thought Rita. It’s a shame about the tobacco. It reminded her of the man who used to visit their farmhouse to discuss church business with her father. He’d smelt the same and when Rita had fetched his coat, she’d held it pinched between her thumb and forefinger so she wouldn’t get the smell on her clothes. For days after their hall had reeked of it. Rita wondered if Ray’s hall reeked of tobacco too.
The blonde woman approached the buffet table and Rita wrinkled her nose as the woman’s strong perfume wafted over, encircled the tobacco smell, and with gentle ease overtook it. Rita was relieved. It wasn’t the nicest perfume, but it was better than stale tobacco. Rita watched as the woman’s bright red lips parted.
‘Can I ‘ave a Prosecco?’ she asked the barman.
‘It’s only wine on the house I’m afraid.’
‘I’ll pay,’ she said, pushing a hand into her bag.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Ray, stepping forward.
‘Thanks mate,’ she said with a warm smile. ‘I’m Lorraine by the way.’
Rita found herself wondering how Henry knew these people. They weren’t in the least like him at all. ‘Alright,’ said the woman, turning now to Helen. ‘Just lemonade?’ she nodded at Helen’s glass. ‘It’s on the house you know.’
‘Yes, it’s a bit early and I have to go back to work,’ said Helen primly.
Rita wanted to say that just because it was on the house, people didn’t have to take advantage.
‘It’s never too early darling,’ laughed Lorraine, revealing pearly white teeth.
‘I’m with you there,’ said Ray, sidling up closer to her.
