Page 39 of Sassy & Sixty
“Hooray!” shouted the women.
As the clock struck midnight, Emma raised her glass in a toast. "To the Sensational Sixties Squad," she declared. "May we always be a thorn in the side of ex-husbands and may we all get to have a go on Dr Mike."
"Hear, hear!" the others chorused, clinking their glasses together.
As they began to tidy up, making plans for their next meetup, Rosie’s mind drifted again to thoughts of Derek and Mike. She couldn’t keep avoiding them forever. It was about time she worked out what to do.
But how was she supposed to do that? It wasn't just a question of choosing between two men but choosing between two lifestyles. The quiet, dignified retirement she'd onceenvisioned, or a life full of chaos, friends, dates and takeaways. The latter option was very appealing now, but what of the future. What about when she was 70, or even 80. Would she want a house full of crazy women then?
As the last of her friends departed, Rosie stood in her doorway, watching them go. Emma linked arms with Trisha and was trying to teach her a bawdy sea shanty. Julie and Lisa were deep in discussion about the Chancellor of the Exchequer whose book Lisa might write.
“I just think you’re amazing,” said Julie, looking at Lisa with barely disguised adoration.
Rosie smiled to herself. “Good night, you gorgeous lot,” she shouted before retreating into the warmth.
"POLITICAL AFFAIR"
Rosie's peaceful morning cuppa was rudely interrupted by a frantic pounding on her front door. Perhaps Richard had returned with a mariachi band, or David was looking to sue them for ABH after they pelted him with toilet rolls?
She approached the door cautiously, peeping through the spyhole.
Instead of Richard's hangdog expression, she was met with the sight of Lisa's perfectly coiffed hair, now resembling an electrocuted poodle. Rosie flung open the door.
"Lisa? What on earth?—"
But Lisa was already barrelling past her, slamming the door shut and leaning against it as if expecting a battering ram to follow.
"They know!" she gasped; eyes wild. "The press, they found out about Gerald!"
Rosie blinked, trying to process this information. "Gerald? You mean Gerald Fitsimmons, Chancellor of the Exchequer? What about him? They know that you’re writing his book? Is that so awful?"
Lisa groaned, sliding down the door to sit on the floor, her usually impeccable suit crumpled. "We've been... seeing each other. Romantically. For months."
Rosie's jaw dropped. "You've been having an affair with the Chancellor?"
"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds so tawdry," Lisa muttered. “I’m being followed everywhere by journalists. I’m on the bloody news.”
Before Rosie could respond, her phone began to buzz incessantly. She glanced at the screen to see a barrage of messages from the rest of the Sensational Sixties Squad:
Emma: "Turn on the telly NOW! Channel 4!"
Julie: "Oh my god, Lisa's on the news!"
Trisha: "I knew that 'economic stimulus package' she kept talking about sounded suspicious!"
Maria: "Ladies, focus! We need to help her!"
“The girls all know,” said Rosie. “What can we do to help? What do you need?”
Rosie fumbled for the remote, switching on the TV just in time to see a grainy photo of Lisa and a distinguished-looking man fill the screen. The headline below screamed: "SHADOW CHANCELLOR'S SECRET SEXAGENARIAN SWEETHEART!"
"Oh, bugger," Rosie muttered.
Lisa whimpered from her position on the floor. "What am I going to do? There are reporters camped outside my house. I had to sneak out through Mrs. Higgins' garden.”
No wonder her hair looked like that.
"Right," Rosie said, snapping into action. "First things first. Tea."
