‘Pauline,’ says Joyce. ‘Do you know something you’re not telling me?’
‘I think you’d work that out, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure I would with you, no,’ says Joyce. ‘You’re not protecting someone?’
‘By talking about Bethany’s clothes? No,’ says Pauline. ‘I’m just interested in clothes. That’s the thing I would look at.’
‘They’re all concentrating more on offshore accounts than trousers,’ says Joyce.
‘Well, that’s why you’re a gang,’ says Pauline. ‘You don’t all have to concentrate on the same thing.’
‘And you mentioned that the CCTV was very blurry? That was an unusual thing to say.’
‘Joyce,’ says Pauline. ‘You were all sitting around with your theories and I just wanted to join in. Just wanted to have something to contribute. You’re quite an intimidating bunch when you get together.’
Joyce laughs. ‘I suppose. That’s mainly Elizabeth though, not me.’
‘Sure,’ says Pauline. ‘Tell me about Ron.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘The bad stuff,’ says Pauline. ‘Anything I’ve missed while I’ve been staring into those beautiful eyes.’
‘Where to begin,’ says Joyce. ‘He can’t dress, he refuses to eat healthily, you can’t disagree with him, he’s too loud sometimes, especially in public, some of his attitudes are outdated, and he once gave me an hour-long lecture when I said I’d voted Lib Dem at the local elections.’
‘But is –’
‘Sometimes he teases me, although when he teases Elizabeth I like it, so perhaps that’s not a fault. He’s very slow at responding to messages, he gets grumpy easily, especially if he hasn’t eaten. He passes wind often. He once sulked for an entire day because we didn’t ask him to see the corpse of an assassin someone had shot at Coopers Chase. He has terrible taste in music and, if he ever comes round in the evening, he talks when the TV is on.’
‘There was an assassin at Coopers Chase?’
Joyce waves this away. ‘If you ever send him to the shop, he’ll get the wrong thing. And I don’t mean dark chocolate digestives instead of milk chocolate digestives. I mean you’ll ask for a four-pack of loo roll and you’ll get a pineapple.’
‘That’s fairly comprehensive,’ says Pauline. ‘Any good points?’
‘That’s a longer list,’ says Joyce. ‘So I’ll boil it down for you. He’s loyal, he’s kind, he’s funny, and I am very, very proud that, for whatever reason, he has chosen to be my friend. He is, and this is just an opinion, a prince. I sometimes daydream, and this will sound silly, but I sometimes daydream about Ron sitting there on my sofa, and Gerry is in his armchair, and the two of them just laughing and arguing until all hours. I can play the whole thing out in my head. Gerry would have loved him, and that’s the greatest compliment I have.’
There are tears in Joyce’s eyes, and Pauline takes her hand. ‘It sounds like you love him too, Joyce.’
‘Of course I do,’ says Joyce. ‘How could you not love Ron? I mean, he is not the man for me, Pauline, for the many reasons listed. But if you like pineapple, and you’ve already got enough loo roll, he’s the man for you.’
‘You know, you could just be right,’ says Pauline.
Joyce is smiling through her tears now. ‘How lovely, how lovely. I shall look for a wedding hat.’
‘Let’s not go that far,’ says Pauline, smiling. ‘Early days.’