Beckett said nothing, but I caught the smug gleam in his eye.
‘Hi, guys!’ I’m not sure Moses could have seemed more pleased if Jesus had appeared in his church foyer. ‘You’re a few minutes early, but I guess that’s got something to do with the boxes in Sofia’s office.’
‘Um, yes. We’re here to pick up stuff for the carol-concert costumes.’
‘You don’t sound too sure.’ Moses started leading us towards the back of the building.
What I wasn’t sure about was his comment about being early, implying that there was another reason to be here.
Sofia’s office was empty, but there were three large, clearly labelled boxes, a sewing machine in its case and a closed basket containing threads, scissors, a tape measure and other essentials.
‘Why don’t Beckett and I load up the car while you and Gramps find Sofia? She’ll be in the small hall,’ Moses said.
Bob’s pram had arrived that morning, which Gramps now insisted upon pushing, so it took a few unsteady rams of the front wheel against the double doors and a polite-yet-assertive insistence upon me helping him before we made it into the small hall.
The room had been rearranged since Sunday’s lunch. The sofas were pushed up against a back wall, and the rest of the space was now filled with different-sized tables. A stack of board games covered a smaller one, another had neat rows of plant pots and seed packets. A third held various materials that, judging by the predominance of red, green and gold, were probably for Christmas decorations. Bill and another person were laying the empty tables with cutlery, napkins, glasses and tiny vases of autumn foliage.
Were we being corralled into yet another lunch? Because we really didn’t have time for board games and crafts.
Sofia appeared from the door into the kitchen, greeting us with a delight completely out of proportion considering we’d arranged for me to come only the night before.
‘We’ve got fish pie, with smoky baked beans or cabbage, then blackberry cobbler.’
‘I hate cabbage,’ Gramps announced.
‘Perfect, you can have beans,’ Sofia said, utterly unfazed. ‘Do you want a drink first? Why don’t we find you a comfy seat, then when some of the others arrive I’ll introduce you.’
‘I don’t like new people.’
Sofia linked her arm through his and began steering him over to a sofa. ‘Well, once I introduce you they won’t be new any more, will they? They’ll be Jan, Inga, Derek and Baljit.’
‘Um, we can’t stay,’ I said, scanning behind me for any sign of Beckett.
‘Absolutely. Even if you wanted to. We sometimes allow a companion for the first week, if needed, but strictly speaking that should be agreed in advance because of catering. The funding won’t budget for extras. It was all on the leaflet. You can pick him up around two-thirty. Have you decided on that drink yet, Marvin?’
‘The usual please.’
I had to hurry after Sofia back towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t understand. You’re offering Gramps lunch, but you said we can’t stay?’
‘Well, yes, because he’s over seventy. I presume. He must be over seventy? Oh my goodness, don’t tell him if I’ve made a boobie.’
‘He’s eighty-two.’
‘Phew! I thought so. Anyway, you and Bob, definitely being under seventy, are not invited.’
‘Okay. So this is some sort of older people’s thing?’
‘Yes. It’s our Long-Life Lunch Club. I gave Beckett a leaflet.’
‘He didn’t mention it.’
‘Oh.’ Sofia looked slightly crestfallen. ‘Marvin can join us, though?’
At that point, Beckett arrived. ‘What’s happening?’
‘An over-seventies’ lunch club. Gramps is having beans but no cabbage.’
‘What?’
