Noah shrugged as he headed towards the door. ‘I very much doubt that Rendell has ever listened to a single one of my podcasts.’
Chapter10
‘The table was set... while the nervous guests took their places...’
Midge jumped as Noah’s voice resonated across the dining table. She took a seat far away from the roaring fire, wondering if it was possible to eat without making a mess of Rona’s orange lipstick, which she had rather inexpertly reapplied after dressing. Harold carried in food on a tray, placing it down on to the table and smoothing the little hair he had left. ‘I didn’t realize you was recording tonight,’ he said to Noah, pulling off his apron. ‘I’d have got all tizzed up if I’d known.’
‘That’s all right, Ms McGowan is “tizzed up” enough for all of us.’ Rendell was himself dressed in a velvet dinner suit, complete with black bow tie. ‘In fact, I think Joseph’s wondering where his dreamcoat went. It is “Ms”, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘I’m assuming no husband?’ Which was a rude thing to say, really.
Rona answered for her before she got the chance, ‘She’s a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community, aren’t you, Ms McGowan?’
Midge blinked. Although feeling brave for telling Rona that Bridie was her wife, Midge wasn’t quite ready to wave the banner on the Pride carnival float.
‘That explains the rainbow thing, then,’ said Rendell, who was holding a half-finished bottle of wine in his hands.
‘I can give you the name of the department store, if you like? It’s unisex,’ offered Midge before frowning. ‘Although, I’m not sure if it caters for shorter men.’
Rendell’s smile slipped ever so slightly.
‘I think she looks gorgeous.’ Rona patted Midge’s arm in a way that made her feel a little bit like a pet dog. Rona herself looked every inch the pop star, in a low-cut mini dress that she had paired with Brenda and Babs.
‘It’s not visual,’ sighed Noah, taking off his headphones. He was talking about his podcast again. ‘I told you, like a radio show, remember?’
Sorry, mouthed Harold, sliding into his seat. ‘That’s right, like a radio show but without the music.’
‘Or the listeners,’ commented Rendell.
Rona pulled a face at Midge who immediately looked down at her plate, not used to feeling part of an inside joke.
Everyone else was already seated, apart from Gloria, who was missing.
‘Mrs Mortimer not joining us?’ asked Rendell. Dr Mortimer, who had also chosen to wear a formal dinner suit, frowned at the question as he placed his napkin on his lap. ‘She’ll be down in a minute or two. She just needs to swap her pump over,’ he replied, waving the concern aside. ‘There’s no need to wait for her.’
‘Well, can’t guarantee there will be much left,’ said Rendell. Midge, who was watching the play of light on her plate from the chandelier above, was fairly sure he was looking at her.
‘Can you pass the potatoes?’ Noah asked.
As per Noah’s commentary, the table was set for seven. Each china plate with a matching cutlery set apart from Midge’s, which appeared to be missing a knife. The lonely fork made Midge sad. In a similar vein, she had once had to return a fruit and nut bar to Bridie after discovering, on biting into it, that it was all raisin apart from one solitary, abandoned almond. ‘Can I have a knife, please?’ she asked Harold, who immediately jumped up and took one from the large dresser behind them.
‘There’s even a fondue,’ smiled Harold, pointing at it with Midge’s knife before handing it to her.
‘Breeding ground for germs,’ shuddered Noah, applying more hand gel and looking as if he wished he could soak his food in it. Midge couldn’t help agreeing about the fondue.
‘Ah, Mrs Mortimer... you look stunning. May I offer you a glass of wine?’ Gloria had just entered the room and Rendell pulled out a chair next to the doctor, offering it to her. She flushed from head to toe and slid into the space next to her husband. ‘I’m sorry to keep you all,’ she murmured, unfolding her napkin.
‘No wine for my wife,’ said the doctor. ‘But I’ll have a glass.’
‘Can Gloria not speak for herself?’ asked Rona, rolling her eyes.
‘Why don’t either of you ask her?’ said Midge.
Rendell was now working his way around the table, pouring out drinks into people’s glasses from a carafe. His hand rested on Rona’s chair as he leaned over, carafe tipped, ready to pour. ‘And how about you, Rona – I’m sure you’ll have some wine, won’t you?’
Rona closed her eyes, briefly. ‘No. Thank you.’
‘Ah, come on.’ Rendell’s hand slid from the chair to her shoulder. ‘I thought you pop stars knew how to party.’
Midge’s stomach was rumbling. She wondered if anyone would notice if she started eating.
