Read The Moment She Left for Free Online

come out to help me.’
    ‘I didn’t hear you pull up,’ Rowzee replied, going to take some of the load and setting it down on the kitchen’s centre island.
    ‘Who were you on the phone to?’
    Rowzee started with surprise. ‘How did you know I was on the phone?’
    ‘Because I heard you ringing off. What, do you think I have some special powers or something?’
    Rowzee’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m never too sure with you,’ she confessed, and felt the joy of making Pamela smile.
    Pamela was the taller of the two, with lots of fluffy curls, much like Rowzee’s, and the same heart-shaped face, only larger. In fact, almost everything about Pamela was larger, from her slightly protruding green eyes, to her extravagant mouth, to the voluptuous figure that she often tried stuffing into clothes a size too small for her. As a result she was generally too hot, especially at this time of year, and managed to look bothered, or stressed, or thoroughly annoyed even if she wasn’t, although she usually was.
    Rowzee only half listened as Pamela chuntered on about some woman at the supermarket who hadn’t known how to wait in line, and so had had to be told, by Pamela of course, where she was going wrong. Apparently the woman had proceeded to call Pamela a bossy old cow who ought to mind her own effing business.
    Having witnessed many such scenes while shopping with Pamela, Rowzee said, ‘Are you going out again? If you are . . .’
    ‘Of course I’m going out again. One of us has to find a job. We’re not all lucky enough to have inherited from our husbands, or to be able to boast a healthy pension from the state. I’ve got things to do like . . . Like . . .’ She was clearly struggling to remember what the demands on her time were, but Rowzee kindly refrained from mentioning Alzheimer’s, the way Pamela usually did with her when she couldn’t immediately call something to mind. ‘Don’t expect me back until eight at the earliest,’ Pamela declared.
    Rowzee gently prompted. ‘Wanting supper?’
    ‘Probably, if it’s not too much trouble.’
    ‘I’ll do salad.’
    ‘Again? Well, I suppose it might help me to lose weight, just don’t overdo the dressing. Have you made a list of who you want to invite to the party on Friday?’
    You mean who you want to invite, Rowzee didn’t say. ‘I have,’ she confirmed.
    ‘And have you rung them yet? They won’t come if they don’t know it’s happening.’
    Wanting to laugh, Rowzee said, ‘I’m still waiting for a few calls back, but it could be they’re away on holiday. Bill Simmonds dropped a very nice acceptance card through the door earlier.’
    Pamela came to a stop, a purplish flush creeping up from her neck. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to invite him,’ she protested.
    Amazed, Rowzee said, ‘He’s been to every other party we’ve given over the years, so why would I not invite him to this one?’
    Apparently not having an answer for that, Pamela went crossly on with what she was doing.
    ‘He says in his card,’ Rowzee continued, ‘that he’ll come and cut the grass during the afternoon so everything’s looking lovely for the evening. Isn’t that kind of him?’
    ‘If you say so.’
    Rowzee eyed her carefully. ‘OK, so what’s Bill Simmonds done to upset you?’ she challenged.
    ‘Who says he’s upset me?’
    ‘I can tell. Oh no, did he try flirting with you again?’
    ‘Let’s drop the subject, shall we? If you want to invite the gardener, you go right ahead and invite him.’
    ‘Now you’re being a snob.’
    Pamela ignored the charge, so Rowzee said, ‘You were going to speak to the girls. As your daughters, and therefore I presume social equals, I think they should be here.’
    ‘You consider yourself so droll, don’t you,’ Pamela shot back. ‘I’ve left messages for both, and we know they’ll come, because they always do, complete with husbands and children who, I hope, aren’t going to charge about the place