'I can't do my own accounts, that's why I pay you. No way I want to touch this lot,' she retorted as she gestured to the open account books I was surrounded by, and the large Mac screen I'd been studying my formulas on. 'Jesus, this is my worst nightmare. I hate maths.'
'Georgie! For the love of God, get to the point!' I demanded. 'Where's she moving to?'
'I've no idea, that's why I came here to see if she'd told you and not me. I was going to be really annoyed if you said yes.'
'Then how do you know she's moving? If Sheila Vickers told you, I wouldn't believe a word. I've heard she's just been diagnosed with dementia, and not a moment too soon, bless her.'
'No one told me. I was just waving Portia the poodle goodbye after her pre-show cut and blow-dry, and there was a man putting up a "For Sale" sign by her front gate.'
'No,' I announced firmly. 'She is not moving down south to be with that waster who doesn't even want her. If she needs more help, then we'll take extra shifts. This is her home, she's lived in Dilbury all of her life. Forget it, not on my watch.' I grabbed my keys, then Georgie's wrist, and dragged her out onto the landing.
'I know we see her as family, Abbie, but we're not. What can we do to stop this? Especially if she wants to go?'
'I'll never believe she wants to go voluntarily, Georgie, never. She loves this village and … and … ' I stopped and huffed out a breath as I blinked back some tears.
'You're scared she's going to leave you too, aren't you?' Georgie said softly as we stood at the top of the stairs. 'That her going means she doesn't love you, love us, enough.'
'Am I selfish for thinking that? I know I'm not her daughter, but I can't help but think we've been closer to her than her son ever has. She's really leaving us?'
'I've no idea, which is why I'm here. Come on, let's stop torturing ourselves and go and find out.' She made me lock up, then took my hand and pulled me along behind her as she trotted down the stairs, having found a renewed sense of energy. We walked with determination up my drive and were halted in our tracks by a 'Cooee!' We turned to see Daphne standing on my doorstep, about to knock on the door.
'I'm so sorry, I had no idea he was putting up the board today. I wanted to tell you first, but you were so busy with work and I was trying to find a good time,' she called, looking as upset as I was feeling.
'You're leaving us? Leaving Dilbury?' I asked, the hurt in my voice I'd hoped to disguise shining through, as we headed through the side gate to approach her.
'You really think I could leave you girls and the village that I love? I should scold you both for thinking how little you mean to me,' she advised with a wagging figure and stern look.
'You actually are scolding us both,' Georgie observed.
'Well, I'm cross,' Daphne retorted as she reached out to hold onto one of the oak-beam canopy supports. 'How could you think you mean so little to me?'
'But you're selling your house!' I reminded her. 'Where are you going?'
'Flat on my arse if you don't get me inside and into a comfortable seat soon,' she warned. 'These legs are over eighty years old, they've held me up for far too long. Now get the kettle on and I'll tell you the news.'
I sighed and kissed her cheek, then opened up. Georgie helped her inside and we all headed to the kitchen. I busied myself getting down some mugs and putting the kettle on, while Georgie settled Daphne in her favourite chair at my table and asked her what was going on, but she refused to answer until we were all sitting down. I took over some steaming hot coffees, then put some of my homemade white chocolate chip cookies on a plate in the middle of the table. Both of them eyed them suspiciously, then looked up at me.
'They have sugar in them, I ate one for breakfast,' I assured them with a roll of my eyes, then a giggle as their hands shot forwards to grab one each and they started chewing. I sighed as I looked at them. They were Miller's favourite, which made me sad, but I was relieved that Daphne wasn't leaving the village. These two women meant the world to me. 'Come on then, the suspense is killing me.'
Daphne finally filled us in, saying that she was finding it harder and harder to get up and down the stairs, and that as much as she loved her cottage and living next to us, it was too painful being surrounded by so many memories of her husband. She said she needed to be somewhere that was easier to navigate and that didn't upset her every time she looked around and remembered happier times with him. I understood her logic. For some people, they'd never want to leave, but I'd had to remove all of the things in the house that reminded me of Sumo, including replacing his favourite armchair. It hurt too much to have them around.
'So where are you going?'
'Well, it all came about during a game of bridge while you were away,' she advised, leaning in as if she was sharing an important secret, so Georgie and I did too. 'There's a few of us widowed pensioners in the village, all of us living in houses that are too big and don't suit us anymore. None of us want to leave the village, so Albert came up with a very clever plan.'
'Which is?' I prompted as she sat back to drink her coffee and nibble on another cookie. I was very impatient today, everyone was taking far too long to get to the point.
'You know he had a large win on the lottery a few months ago?'
'Hmmm,' I nodded, remembering the excitement of the winning ticket having been purchased in the post office. We'd had the press here, and even a news crew. It was quite the publicity for our little village.
'Well, he's invested it in the old school house, that big Victorian place down Ivy Lane. He's having it converted into ten self-contained, one-bedroom apartments, with lift access to the first floor, a communal lounge, games room, and kitchen diner. I've paid a deposit to secure one, and so have some other OAPs from the village. Mr. Bentley, Mr. and Mrs Vickers too, so the shop is going on the market. We'll all chip in to pay for a team of carers to do shifts.'
'So it's like an old people's home, but you get to keep your independence if you want, and still live in Dilbury with your friends?' I asked, my heart warming at the thought that she'd only be a five-minute walk away.
'And I still get to be near you girls,' she beamed, leaning over to put her old, arthritic hands on top of mine and Georgie's. 'What do you think?'
'I think it's bloody brilliant,' I enthused, feeling very emotional.
'Me too, Daphne. Oh, I'm so happy to hear we aren't losing you for good.'
'You can come and visit whenever you want, and I might even get one of those zippy motorised scooters so I can nip to the shop, assuming there will still be a shop, and come and visit you both here, too. They won't be ready for another couple of months, but I thought I ought to set the wheels in motion.'
'Well, if you get an offer and need to move out before your apartment is ready, you can come and live here,' I offered, smothering her hand on mine with my other one. 'I'm so glad you're doing this. Those stairs of yours were worrying me, and it's lovely to think you'll be surrounded by friends. And who knows, maybe romance will blossom with Mr. Bentley,' I teased. She blushed and smacked my hand with a girlish giggle. I knew how fond she was of him.
'Well, enough about me putting my life in order. It's time to talk about the two of you.'
'What about us?' Georgie asked as I went to fill up the kettle again. I was going to have to work through the night to catch up on my books, but I knew from Daphne's tone we were both in for a lecture, and Daphne wouldn't leave until she'd said her piece.
'You're going to be thirty this year, Abbie, and you're not that far behind her, Georgie, and neither of you are married. It's about time we sorted that out.'
'Daphne,' we both whined in unison.
'No,' she said firmly. 'I'm supposed to be the stubborn old goat in this little friendship of ours, too set in my ways to change, but I'm embracing it while you both sit here refusing to do the same. Georgie, Abbie told me this nice young man you met on holiday has rung you and you haven't rung him back!' she scolded.
'The date was a disaster, Daphne,' she groaned.
'It wasn't all peaches and cream on my first date with David either, you know,' she reminded her, making me smile. We knew the story, I'd never tired of hearing her tell us. 'But when you get that connection with someone, when you feel those butterflies, there's something there and it's worth persevering. Love isn't easy, you know. It's not all a bed of thornless roses, you have to take the rough with the smooth. Mr. Perfect doesn't exist, and you're both too intelligent to let yourselves believe that he does. That's where love comes into a partnership. If you both love each other, that love bridges the faults and anchors you together through any storm. He doesn't have to be perfect, and neither do you, but together you are perfect for each other. So, you are going to ring this Veston back – '
'Weston,' Georgie giggled as I carried the coffees back over, along with more cookies.
'Veston, Heston, Weston, whatever,' Daphne scoffed with a dismissive, and frankly impatient, flick of her wrist. 'You're going to ring him back. Even if you don't want to go on another date with him quite yet, you can start by talking on the phone, or texting, or sexting, whatever it is you youngsters do first. I know it's not hip or cool to actually physically see a man nowadays until you've had a virtual relationship, but you have to start somewhere. It's time to put that Greg behind you.'