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they were kiddies at school –what fifteen years? Not married, just fifteen years of the same old routine. Where’s the excitement in that?’
    ‘Maybe they don’t want excitement. Maybe they’ve found what they’re looking for and have settled for contentment and familiarity. Maybe they’re just happy with one another.’
    ‘And maybe they ain’t,’ Flo clanged the glasses together. ‘Still, you’ll have plenty of time on your hands to sort both your girls out now, won’t you?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose I will.’ With a last gloomy glance at Richard and Judy, Mitzi picked up the remaining glasses and followed Flo out of the kitchen.
    In the living room, the Bandings were still hogging the fire, standing cheek by skinny jowl with their backs to the flickering flames, their drooping skirts lifted to allow the warmth to soak into their spindly, lisle-stockinged legs.
    Clyde was talking earnestly to Lulu on the plum sofa, who, by her crossed eyes, looked as though she’d already had several glasses of elderflower and rhubarb. Mitzi hoped Doll would hurry up with the parcels of fish and chips – Lulu was definitely going to need a massive intake of saturated fat and carbs to soak up the alcohol. Clyde’s home brew was almost 100 per cent proof. Rumour had it that Flo ran her moped on it, and they’d always used it to kick-start the Hazy Hassocks bonfire every November the fifth.
    As Flo busily filled glasses, Mitzi smiled fondly at the odd assortment of people in the living room. They were there – with the exception of Lulu, of course – because they cared and didn’t want her to be alone. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe she’d get used to all the WI-ish occupations and the cheap pensioners’ lunches at The Faery Glen, the only pub in Hazy Hassocks, and not having to remember to pluck her eyebrows and shave her legs and have clean shoes …
    ‘We were just saying, Mitzi dear,’ Lavender grabbed at her glass of wine, not moving a millimetre from the fire, ‘that you’ll have to find some little pastimes to keep youfrom going – well – funny. Weren’t we Lobelia?’
    ‘We were,’ Lobelia drained her glass in one gulp and without so much as a cough or an eye-watering blink. ‘Being alone and being unwanted can bring untold misery. It’s one of the blessings that Lavender and I have, being spinsters. We may have no money and no hope of anything wonderful happening, but we have each other. There’s always someone to look out for you on the mornings when sticking your head in the gas oven looks like a good option.’
    ‘Er – yes, yes – I can see the advantages …’ Mitzi stared hard at the floor.
    Lavender noisily sucked the last drops from her glass and held it out for a refill. ‘There’s some of us gets together in the select bar of The Faery Glen every Thursday afternoon, after we’ve collected our pensions, for a nice game of housey-housey and a schooner of Amontillado. You’d really enjoy it. Shall I put your name down?’
    Not meeting Lulu’s shocked gaze, Mitzi nodded. ‘That’s – um – very kind of you.’
    ‘And,’ Lobelia continued as both glasses were topped-up by Clyde, ‘you might like to think about knitting some squares for our Christmas blankets. We always do lots and lots for the lonely old folks in the village.’
    Mitzi nodded again. How long would it be before some fresh-faced forty-something knocked on her door with a festive blanket cobbled together in fawn and lovat?
    ‘And if you find you can’t make ends meet,’ Lavender swayed unsteadily towards the fire, ‘you could always take in a lodger. We’re going to let out our spare room to eke out our pensions, aren’t we, Lobelia?’
    ‘We are,’ Lobelia confirmed. ‘We’ve put an ad in the doctor’s surgery. And we’ll be offering breakfast as well. Cornflakes and toast. We wanted a nice young professional lady. Someone who understands how things should be done – but that damn surly leftie of a doctor