She made the call. OK 2pm. She didn’t want to get there and
have to suffer lunch with that awful woman. Quick drink – another cold white –
a last cold white! Then she will be gone. Out of Pat’s hair for ever.
She looked round her flat. How to play it now?
Rosemary and Arthur were pacified. They could keep Bramble
Cottage. A gift from the grave. She had begun to hate the place. The bland
paintwork, the matchy matchy soft furnishings. The cold. Rosemary droning on.
But what of Julie? Was she tucking into an early Easter bun?
Or a Swiss Roll? Even Pat found herself smiling as she imagined her best friend.
She had known Julie for longer than she cared to remember. A long time. And it
had been fun. But all good things must come to an end.
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