Free The Party Line by Sue Orr Page A

he’d swallowed his anger about his stock loss and forgotten about it.
    ‘Eugene was saying about the hay,’ Joy said, after a spell of silence.‘How it’s rotten, and your new man’s got no winter feed.’
    ‘We’ve never had extra winter feed. We don’t need it. That’s what Jack says.’ Audrey was smiling the smile of a woman who knew. ‘We’re lucky, having the land down by the river. Plenty of pasture there.’
    Audrey Gilbert, the Peter Pan simpleton sailing through life with nothing on her mind except clean washing. Joy contemplated raising the subject of Ian Baxter, and his precocious daughter with her makeup and slutty perfume. Audrey reached across and switched on the radio. She hummed tunelessly to the music.
    Joy looked at Audrey’s smooth, tiny hands. Her nails were perfectly manicured and painted a pearly off-white. Child’s hands. Her own hands, positioned steadily on the steering wheel, looked chumpy; meaty and rough, dirt still visible under her fingernails from the morning’s gardening. The skin was dry and her nails ragged. Joy lifted the seatbelt away from the folds of her belly and sat up straight in her seat.
     
    Joy pulled open the heavy door to the hall kitchen. The Zip whistled and white teacups lined the bench underneath. Two bottles of milk sat to one side, next to the big stainless steel teapot. On the counter, spread across three piles, were stacks of recipes: Luncheon, Supper, Afternoon Tea.
    The women, leaning against the long bench down the middle of the room, greeted Joy, then Audrey. Joy was pleased to see Josephine Janssen had made her own way to the hall — they often shared a ride, but Joy had forgotten to call her. The Zip reached its highest pitch and faded to a half-hearted whistle.
    ‘Lovely to see you, Audrey, what a surprise.’ Evelyn Maxwell reached over for a milk bottle. ‘It’s been ages, hasn’t it?’
    The sunlight beamed in through the high windows down one side of the kitchen. It shone on two or three of the women and left the others in the cool shadow. Evelyn was being shone upon and she interpreted this as an endorsement to keep talking.
    ‘What’s that you’ve brought, Audrey? It’s a jolly big basket …’
    Joy swallowed as Evelyn glanced around the room. All eyes were on the hamper. The women thought they’d smelled fear on Audrey. Joyknew they were wrong; fear was not a feeling Audrey was capable of. That made her even more vulnerable.
    ‘Audrey’s brought us a cake,’ Joy said.
    The silence lasted just a few seconds.
    ‘I can’t say no to cake, never,’ said Josephine kindly. ‘Let’s have a look, Audrey … let’s see what you’ve made for us.’
    ‘The cookbook’s more or less finished, unfortunately.’ Evelyn glared at Joy, as though Audrey’s bake-off was somehow her fault. ‘We’re taking recipes out, not putting new ones in.’
    Audrey lifted the hamper onto the bench. She flipped the lid back and gently reached inside. Josephine helped, moving the basket away.
    ‘Oh Audrey. She’s a beauty. Isn’t it, ladies?’ Josephine smiled broadly and clasped Audrey’s hand in her own. Josephine touched people without a moment’s hesitation — Joy imagined this was a Dutch thing and felt a swell of worldliness that Fenward people had got used to it in a matter of mere years.
    The platter seemed bigger than Audrey. On top were two large cakes, dressed with white icing.
    ‘It’s a carrot cake,’ said Audrey.
    ‘For goodness’ sake …’ The mutter came from behind Joy, then a whisper in her ear. ‘What are you doing, encouraging her …?’
    Audrey took a long, sharp knife from the drawer under the Zip. She slipped the knife through one of the cakes, cutting a triangle. She handed the first piece to Josephine, then the second to Evelyn.
    Evelyn sniffed at the cake. It occurred to Joy, for the first time ever, that her friend was ratlike. ‘What’s the icing? What icing do you put on a carrot cake?’ Evelyn bit into