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Marielle’s cousin was often on her mind, even though she didn’t deserve to be in Sylvie’s opinion. She couldn’t do with high-maintenance people who were a drain and Cilla was the sort of person that the word ‘diva’ was created for.
‘No, it’s not her,’ said Marielle. ‘I didn’t want to say and bring the mood down but it’s Teddy and those damned… bastards.’
Sylvie raised her eyebrows. This was only about the third time she’d ever heard Marielle swear, and never anything more than a mild expletive.
‘Of all the places they could pick to put another one of their rubbish restaurants, why a little town like Shoresend? Ha. Authentically Italian, my eye. Why not Leeds or Nottingham – somewhere bigger, not next door to us,’ Marielle went on.
‘Because they are a big greedy chain and they don’t give a toss about the little guys, that’s why,’ said Sylvie. ‘Anyway, the people who frequent that type of crappy shove-it-in-a-microwave restaurant will not be the sort that want what Teddy can offer:authenticauthentic Italian.’
Sylvie hoped she sounded convincing because she wasn’t sure she was right. Teddy’s food was premium and his prices reflected the quality he strove for, but there were plenty of people who’d compromise if there was a much cheaper alternative nearby.
‘I hope so, Sylvie.’
Marielle hadn’t lost her worried look and Sylvie saw there was more on her mind because she knew her too well. She hadn’t emptied her soul by a long chalk.
‘Come on then, what else? Because there is something.’
‘No, that’s all,’ said Marielle.
‘Liar.’
Marielle let out a long sigh. If she couldn’t tell her best friend, who could she tell? But even then she was wary.
‘You know I visit the old people up at the hospital? Well last week they admitted a woman to the ward. She’s only mid-thirties I’d say and she was found unconscious at the beauty spot by the man who has the burger van up there. She hadn’t a clue how she got there, poor lamb. She’s very confused. She can remember her name and that’s about it, but it’s not shown up on the database.’
‘Drugs?’
‘Nope, no drugs or alcohol in her system.’
‘Haven’t there been a couple of jumpers up there?’ asked Sylvie.
‘Years and years ago,’ replied Marielle. ‘There’s big iron railings up there now because it’s like a wind tunnel in bad weather so god knows why the council installed all those picnic benches, alongside all the danger signs. Bonkers.’
‘Well that’s Slattercove and Shoresend council all over, isn’t it?’ said Sylvie, who’d had a few run-ins with them over the years with various businesses she’d owned. It was one rule if you were on the council or had friends serving on it and another rule for everyone else, and she fitted in the latter category. ‘Left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing with that lot, but I could take a guess at what the right handisdoing. Bunch of wankers.’
‘Naughty Sylvie,’ said Marielle. ‘Anyway, she’d taken a bump to the face but the brain scan didn’t show any trauma.’
‘No ID on her at all?’
‘Nothing. Just a wedding ring on a necklace around her neck. She had jeans and a top on but loads of make-up and all her hair was pinned up with pretty little pins. She looked like a different person above the neck to below it.’
‘Where’s Miss Marple when you need her?’ Sylvie reached over to squeeze her friend’s arm. ‘You worry too much about other people, I can feel it coming off you in waves. You can’t save the world, Marielle. Teddy will be on top of the restaurant thing and as for the lady in the hospital, well, it’s sad but I’m sure she’ll remember where she comes from. And if she doesn’t…’ her voice carried a heavy note of caution in it, ‘… promise me, you won’t do anything daft.’
TheDaily Trumpetwould like to apologise to Mr Yannis Drakos for an advert which appeared in last weekend’s ‘Best Places to Eat in West Yorkshire’ in which we reported that his Wakefield restaurant Zorba’s was renowned for its Greek mess. This should have read ‘Greek meze’. Mr Drakos will give everyone who orders one of their famous messes at Zorba’s, and brings this article with them, a five pounds discount to end of June.
Chapter 19
Marielle had a large holdall with her the next time she went up to the hospital. She smiled as she approached the nurse’s station and saw her favourite ward sister, Tessa, on duty. Tessa used to go out with her son Teddy, not for very long though, which was a shame because Tessa was the sort of woman Teddy should have settled with. Thank goodness the one he was going to marry met someone else and emigrated to the antipodes, which still wasn’t far enough away in Marielle’s opinion.
‘Hello Mrs B,’ said Tessa, smile of greeting flashing on her face as she clocked Marielle. ‘Lovely to see you as always.’
‘I thought I’d bring a few things for the lost lady,’ said Marielle.The Lost Ladywas what one of the auxiliary staff had named the patient in room four and it had stuck. The lost lady said she was called Sabrina Anderson. She didn’t know where she lived, though, or how she had ended up unconscious on Shore Heights beauty spot.
‘That’s sweet of you,’ said Tessa. Marielle Bonetti had to be one of the nicest people she knew and she wished she’d had her as a mother-in-law instead of the old bat she did endup having. When Marielle had retired from nursing, she couldn’t keep away and so became one of the ‘friends of the hospital’, visiting patients to keep them company. Too many old people had either no visitors or short visits from relatives who were off as soon as they’d satisfied their duty gland. Marielle chatted to them, helped to feed them sometimes, did puzzles with them and should have been on prescription. The lost lady shouldn’t really be in this ward with geriatric patients who had pronounced memory loss, but there were no other beds and she had to go somewhere for now.
‘How is she?’ asked Marielle.
‘Just the same,’ said Tessa with a regretful smile.
