'Thank God,' I replied as I put some potatoes in my basket. Miracle Grow really would live up to its name if it made todgers stand to attention after one dose.
'What are you cooking?' she asked.
'Steak with potato au gratin. I've got the meat, garlic, and potatoes, what else did I need?' I pondered as my eyes roamed the shop.
'Viagra?'
'Ermmm, no, I don't think that's in the recipe,' I giggled, marvelling at the total randomness that spewed out of Sheila's mouth.
'No, for Mr. Bentley. Viagra, is it? For a floppy penis?'
'Oh, right, yes, but Mr. Bentley had floppy petunias. Mr. Benson had a floppy … you know.'
'You heard that too?' she gasped, then let out a series of tuts as she shook her head. 'Well, nothing in this village stays secret for long, does it?'
'Well no, it doesn't,' I agreed. 'But you just told me that.'
'No, I didn't.'
'Yes, you did. You said Mr. Benson from Ivy Lane was suffering from erectile dysfunction.'
'Did I? Oh dear, it was supposed to be a secret.'
'Trust me, I won't be discussing it with anyone,' I said firmly. 'Cream!' I announced proudly, remembering my missing ingredient.
'No, little pills. Mabel Benson said they worked so well, he had to go to the hospital as they couldn't get it to go down.'
'I meant cream for my potato dish.'
'What potato dish?' she asked as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. I sighed inwardly. I swear the conversations in here got more bizarre each time I came in.
'What do you mean you're not coming?' I uttered after I rang Georgie to remind her to bring her homemade sloe gin to pour on the forest fruits meringue I'd made for pudding.
'I sort of agreed to a date,' she said apologetically.
'How do you sort of agree to a date?'
'Because I really don't want to go out with him, but couldn't think of another excuse to get out of it,' she groaned.
'Ah, Wayne Davies, the farmer's son,' I giggled. He'd been chasing Georgie ever since she'd kicked her fiancé out, but he so wasn't Georgie's type.
'I figured best to just go, then let him down gently at the end of the night.'
'You've been trying to let him down gently for months. I don't think subtlety is a language he understands, Georgie. Just tell him straight, thanks but no thanks.'
'Too late,' she replied with a heavy sigh. 'He's picking me up to take me to dinner at The Fox.'
'In his combine harvester?' I teased. 'Well, make sure he washes his hands well before dinner. He spends his days with his hands up cow, sheep, and pig bottoms.'
'He does? Whatever for?' she gasped in horror.
'I've no idea, but that's what farmer types do in pigging season, isn't it? Help the babies come out?'
'Pigging season,' she giggled. 'You live in the country, Abbie, you should really get with the correct terminology.'
'Ok, Miss "Know it all". What's pigging season called then?' I challenged, and waited as there was silence on the other end of the phone. 'Ha, you have no idea either, do you?'
'Ok, maybe not,' she admitted sheepishly.
'Maybe it's oinking season, as if you had to shoot that many piglets out, you'd be oinking non-stop.'
'Well, I call it bacon and sausage season.'
'Oh yes, marry him, Georgie. There's an upside to everything. Free bacon for life!'
'Steady on,' she warned. 'One step at a time. Are you going to be ok?'
'I'll be fine, I've got Daphne and Charlie. I know who my real friends are. Go get ready for your hot date and ring me in the morning. I want to hear all about his sausage.'
'Shut up, Abbie,' she laughed. 'Have fun.'
'You too,' I sang, and grinned as she put the phone down. I was so glad she was getting out there again, even if it was Wayne. I shuddered as I thought of his short, stubby fingers. They looked like little chipolata sausages that had been sewn onto his huge spade-like hands. Urgh! Damn it, I still had no sloe gin. I dialled Daphne and let it ring for a while, knowing she was a bit slow getting to the phone. 'Hello,' I trilled chirpily as she answered. I was fed up of everyone worrying about me, so was making a real effort to assure them all I was ok.
'Abbie, dear, is that you?'
'It is. Just wondering if you have any of Georgie's sloe gin? I've run out and I want some for our pudding tonight. Could you bring it with you when Charlie calls for you on her way over later?'
'Oh no! I forgot all about dinner, Abbie. I'm so sorry, but Mr. Bentley asked me if I wanted to go to a tea dance in Shrewsbury for the over sixties.'
'Ah, you watch yourself with Mr. Bentley, he has floppy petunias.'
'I know, Sheila from the shop told me. Said he took Viagra for them, which I thought was for erectile dysfunction, but she swore it straightened them right out.'
'Ermmm, no. As usual, Sheila got confused. Mr. Bentley used Miracle Grow,' I giggled. 'Someone else took Viagra for something else that was floppy.'
'Ah, Mr. Wentnor. Been having terrible problems with his waterworks, I heard.'
'No, I don't think Viagra would help that. He had a urine infection, I picked up some antibiotics for him at the doctors last week and some cranberry juice from the shop. He was ever so grateful.'
'So who's had Viagra? No!' she gasped after a momentary pause. 'Not Mr. Benson?'
'I never said a word.'
'You didn't need to. It must be, it's been years since I've seen Mabel looking as happy as she has the last few weeks at our bridge games.'
'Can we possibly get back to the whole "you on a date" news?' I asked, really not needing to hear that the OAPs in the village were more sexually active than I was.
'Oh, it's not a date, dear. There's a whole busload going from the village. It's a singles' night.'
'Ah, single and ready to mingle.'
'There'll be no mingling of any kind,' she scoffed. 'I just … please don't take this the wrong way, dear. You know how fond I am of you and Georgie, you're like the daughters I never had. But sometimes it does me good to be with people my own age. And you don't want a doddery old codger like me cramping your style on Valentine's night. You should be out with a nice young man. You aren't offended, are you?'
'Of course I'm not. I'm glad you're getting out of the house for once. It will do you good, I worry about you.'
'And I worry about you, too. Georgie has a date, I hear, why don't you?'
'I'm not ready yet. It takes time, you know?'
'I do, dear, I do,' she sighed wistfully. 'Right, I'd better go and take my rollers out. Just because there'll be no mingling doesn't mean I can't still show them the old broad has got it.'
'You'll always have it, Daphne,' I said sincerely. I hoped I'd have half of her spunk at her age. We said our goodbyes and I put the phone down, then slapped my forehead. 'Sloe gin! Damn it.'
I started to dial Charlie, but was halted by a knock at the door. I opened the top half, part of me hoping to see Miller's face on the other side, as I always did when I heard a knock. The disappointment to find it wasn't him was slightly offset by the fact that it was Heath. We'd become quite good friends since he'd started doing my gardening. We had this whole easy banter and harmless flirting thing going on.
'Hey, Heath. You're late, I was expecting you over this morning to plant the new seeds in my flower beds.'
'Hey, Abbie. Sorry, something came up this morning.' He flashed me an apologetic smile.
'It seems Viagra really is working its magic in this village,' I stated with a wink.
'Oh God, you heard about that, too?' he laughed. 'Poor Mr. Spalding, the whole village seems to know.'
'He has erectile dysfunction, too? Wow, it's seriously doing the rounds.'
'Too? Who else has it?'
'Not my place to say. Sheila Vickers let it slip this morning.'
'Well, she just told me about Mr. Spalding needing it. She's such a gossip. I called in for a sausage roll for dinner, but she was all out, but while I was there she also told me that Mr. Vickers has wilted petunias, Mr. Bentley has piles, and Mr. Benson has ulcers.'
'Oh my God, that's so not what she told me earlier. Do you think she's getting dementia? She's been rubbing Anusol in Mr. Vickers' mouth and Bonjela on his piles. She's a health hazard, as well as an unwitting malicious gossip.'
'Ouch! That mix up sounds painful. So, if Mr. Vickers has piles and ulcers, that means Mr. Benson or Mr. Bentley have wilted petunias or are in need of Viagra. Hmmm,' he pondered as he crossed his arms and put one hand over his mouth as he rubbed his chin.
'Steady on, Inspector Clouseau. This is turning into a Dilbury's answer to Cluedo,' I laughed. 'Anyway, my borders can wait. Why aren't you home getting ready for a date? It's Valentine's night.'
'Why aren't you getting ready?' he shot back.
'As if I'd go on a date so soon after breaking up with Miller. As it happens, I was cooking a lovely early steak dinner for Georgie, Daphne, and Charlie. But Georgie has a date of her own with the ever persistent Wayne, and Daphne is being taken to a tea dance in town by Mr. Bentley, whom I will neither confirm nor deny has floppy anything. So I'm left with too much food for just Charlie and me.' I bit my lower lip as a light bulb went off in my head. Amazingly, Charlie was single at the moment too. I could set her and Heath up, they'd make quite the handsome couple. 'If you don't have a date, why don't you join us? You'd be doing me a favour. Otherwise, I'll probably end up in my pyjamas all day tomorrow scoffing all the leftovers in a fit of depression, and my arse doesn't need the extra calories right now.'