Dancing Over the Hill: The new feel good comedy from the author of The Kicking the Bucket List
I asked.
‘Me finding a new man,’ she replied. Her partner, Fabio, had left her six months ago. They’d been to Wales to do a Tantric sex workshop and Fabio had fallen in love with the woman running it. He was now living in the Welsh mountains and, according to Debs, was getting laid on every ley line.
‘And you, Cait?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Matt and I are both unemployed.’
‘But the surgery?’ Debs asked.
‘Not needed any more. I don’t know what we’re going to do. It wasn’t meant to be like this at my age. We were supposed to be retired, a picture of happy contentment, sitting on rocking chairs on a veranda in the sunset without a care in the world, grandchildren and dogs at our feet.’
‘Chewing tobacco and strumming a banjo,’ added Debs. ‘Is there a white picket fence in there somewhere too?’
‘Course.’
‘You’d be bored out of your mind.’
‘Probably. What about you Lorna?’
She shrugged. ‘Nothing in particular.’ I never pushed her to talk about Alistair, because she wasn’t one to air her grief in public; that wasn’t her style and I’d taken my lead from her after Mum and Eve died. Lorna was a doer, not one to wallow – or tolerate other people wallowing, for that matter – but lately, I could tell by the shadows under her eyes and the weight loss she didn’t need, that she still missed her late husband sorely.
‘OK, back to you Cait,’ said Debs as the waiter brought a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured three glasses. ‘What exactly happened to Matt?’
‘There was nothing for him to do, he was told, and not to waste the train fare.’
‘That’s appalling,’ said Lorna.
‘Yes, total crap. Didn’t he see it coming?’ asked Debs. ‘They can’t just drop him with no warning.’
‘He knows that there are tribunals he could go to but I don’t think he wants to go that route, losing his job was humiliation enough.’
‘I must check his horoscope and yours. It will be Uranus causing trouble somewhere. Uranus is the planet that brings the unexpected. If it’s badly placed, it can cause surprises like you both losing your jobs.’
Lorna rolled her eyes. Although we were both used to Debs’s predilection for consulting the stars on every occasion, Lorna always had to let it be known she thought it was all nonsense.
‘I can see you rolling your eyes, Lorna, and that’s because you’re Scorpio which means that you would scoff at astrology. Typical of the sign.’
‘Sure,’ said Lorna.
Debs was Gemini and a heart-on-her-sleeve type: open minded, great communicator, endlessly curious, exploring meditation techniques and alternative therapies and passing on her newfound discoveries to everyone, whether they were interested or not. Not that she always practised what she preached. She advocated healthy eating, detoxifying and regular liver cleanses, but drank like a fish, loved a takeaway and occasionally smoked roll-ups. She talked about forgiveness, taking responsibility and not blaming others, but was furious about Fabio and, so far, hadn’t found a remedy to restore her equilibrium. Neither Lorna nor I had dared ask her if the break-up had been foreseen in her horoscope.
‘Will he get any redundancy money?’ asked Debs.
‘A small amount. It’s all a sore subject. Whenever I ask he says, “Just leave it, Cait, not now.” It’s never the right time and I haven’t been able to have a proper talk about it with him.’
Debs tutted. ‘He probably needs to talk.’
‘Not to me apparently.’
‘Maybe he can get another job,’ said Lorna as our waiter brought a starter plate of toasted ciabatta with tomatoes, garlic and herbs. ‘Part-time. Consultancy. Surely his experience counts for something?’
‘That’s what I said, but he said apparently not. It’s a young person’s business.’
‘Another job then?’ Debs suggested.
‘I put that to him as well. “Doing what?” he asked. “Stacking shelves in Tesco’s? No one hires sixty year olds in my business,” he said. He’s very down.’
‘And what about you?’
‘I’ve been looking, but there’s nothing that really appeals.’
‘I have a small job for Matt,’ said Debs. ‘I need someone to rewrite the copy for my brochures and website for the spa. He could do that, couldn’t he?’
‘I’m sure he could.’ I knew Debs was being kind and was perfectly capable of writing her own copy. She ran a successful health centre on the outskirts of Bath where all types of alternative therapists practised. Despite some of her airy-fairy beliefs, she was a very good businesswoman.
‘What are the options?’ asked Lorna.
‘Sell the house and downsize. I’ve already had the estate agent around to value the house and they’re keen to start marketing, but I haven’t seen anything on the property websites that remotely appeals for us to move to. For me to find another job in a few weeks, full time. Get a book contract. I’ve been working on some ideas, but getting an agent and then a publisher can be like winning the lottery. Finally, I could sell my body – though that’s probably not an option; no one would want it.’
‘Try eBay,’ said Debs. ‘You can sell anything on eBay.’
‘Older lady, slightly batty, not quite over the hill, good at hippie dancing, talks to herself but claims it makes for long and interesting conversations. Not to be approached for fear of death in the morning.’
‘If you ever decide to try Internet dating, remind me to help you with your profile,’ said Debs. ‘And talking of which, I need you two to help me. I need to redo my profile.’
‘Anytime,’ I said. ‘Gorgeous goddess seeks sex god for heavenly frolics.’
Debs raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t think you’ve quite got the hang of it, Cait.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with that?’
‘I want more than just sex. I want a partner for walks in the countryside, good company and all that.’
‘Get a dog,’ said Lorna.
‘Dogs don’t do candlelit dinners or go to the theatre,’ said Debs.
‘Then put down that you want that,’ I said.
‘I’ll bring my laptop one day and you can look at the sort of thing people write. I need something to make me stand out from the crowd,’ said Debs.
‘Anyone can see just by looking at you that you’re different,’ said Lorna. It was true, Debs did have her own unique style. This evening she was wearing a red kaftan top, black harem trousers and chunky silver jewellery. She always wore a mix of Eastern and vintage clothes, and with her mane of fabulous hair and curvy figure, she always attracted second glances from women as well as men.
‘Different? Different as in odd?’
‘I meant it in a good way – you look interesting.’
‘Like an exotic burlesque artist,’ I added.
‘Anyway, Debs, we’re talking about Cait and Matt first,’ said Lorna.
‘Bossy cow,’ said Debs.
I laughed. Lorna ignored her. ‘Cait? Do you want to move house?’
‘Not really. I like our house.’
‘Then make your property work for you. I was thinking about your situation. You have spare rooms.