Mrs. Griffith had the habit of grasping onto Sibyl’s hand in a death grip whenever Sibyl talked to her.
This she did now.
“I heard your new lad is too busy to come visit us. This, Sibyl, is not a good sign,” Mrs. Griffith announced in a dire tone.
Sibyl smiled despite the fact that Colin seemed everywhere, even here, where he should not be and replied, “Annie talks too much, Mrs. Griffith.”
“Tell him he must come,” Mrs. Griffith demanded. “I want to have a look at him. If I don’t like him, I’m writing a letter to your mother.”
Mrs. Griffith often threatened to write to Sibyl’s mother, but, as yet, (to Sibyl’s knowledge) had not done so even though she’d demanded to have and received Mags’s address.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised her friend on an utter lie.
The last two words were drowned out by Jemma who was now standing at the sliding doors that led into the hall.
And as Sibyl straightened and looked her way, it appeared Jem was making an announcement.
Sibyl vaguely noticed that the door behind her opened and closed but she, as well as all the oldies, were captivated by the usually very quiet Jemma Rashid making any announcement.
“Ladies and gentleman, I’m proud to present a sneak preview to Cadbury Community Centre’s Talent Show. I give you, Flower, Katie, Emma and Cheryl, the Greasy Girls!”
And that was when the girls made their entrance wearing saddle shoes, bobby socks, poodle skirts and fluffy pink sweaters with black scarves wrapped around their necks. Their hair was pulled back in ponytails and they looked adorable. They stood giggling and posing and Sibyl felt pride sweep through her at the sight.
Sibyl, who could not sew, bought all the clothes, shoes and socks and Jemma had made the skirts from the fabric and other bits and bobs that Sibyl also purchased.
And Sibyl stood, with Mrs. Griffith still clutching her hand in a death grip, and smiled, every bit of her pride showing.
All the oldies were shouting their compliments as Sibyl gently disengaged her hand from Mrs. Griffith and walked around the woman, clearing the tables and standing several feet in front of the door.
And as she did she clapped and shouted, “I love it! You girls look great!”
The girls noticed her and all came rushing forward jumping around her with excitement.
“Do you love it, Miss Sibyl? Do you think we look okay?” Katie asked.
“Oh Katie, you look fabulous.” Sibyl bent over and kissed the top of girl’s head then straightened and caught Katie’s chin in her hand. “I’m going to get you some redder than red lipstick and some blue eye shadow and the pinkest blusher I can find. It’ll be perfect!” she announced, thinking Katie would go agog at the idea of makeup.
But Katie was no longer listening to her or, for that matter, looking at her. Instead, the girl was looking behind her.
Sibyl noticed belatedly that the excitement had died to a very strange (for the Day Centre), eerie quiet.
“Who’s he?” Emma breathed, also peering behind Sibyl.
Then Sibyl smelled it, a woodsy scent liberally spiked with cedar.
She whirled and there stood Colin, wearing a handsomely tailored dark suit and an expensive looking deep lavender shirt opened at the collar. He looked like a movie star who had come on a Make-a-Wish errand, standing, powerful and strong and exuding all of his sex appeal in the drab and worn (but cheerful) Day Centre.
“Colin!” she cried, her heart skipping three beats before it began racing like a wild thing.
What on earth was he doing here?
“Sibyl,” he replied calmly, staring at her like… like, she didn’t know. She couldn’t put her finger on it but whatever “it” was made her stomach go funny, her knees go weak and her heart stop momentarily before bouncing around in her chest, out-of-control.
There was no other way to put it – it was a Royce Look, pure and simple.
“What are you doing here?” she forced herself to voice her thought.
Before he could answer, Marianne, the Centre’s bingo caller, shouted throatily from the back, “Billie, is that your young man?” After voicing her question, Marianne collapsed into a fit of smoker’s cough and, once she finished, she sucked another drag off her ever-present cigarette.
Everyone was looking at Colin, at Sibyl, at both of them.
And Sibyl wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She wanted to know what the hell he was doing there.
This was not a part of their bargain. This was not to be touched by him. She needed this when he was gone, not memories of him here.
“Introduce him, Sibyl,” Mrs. Griffith was demanding (loudly), twisting around in her chair to get a better look. “Don’t keep us all waiting.”
“It’s about time he came to call!” Annie shouted, apparently just being informed that Colin was there.
Sibyl stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She noticed Jemma watching her carefully; ready to come to her aid should Sibyl make the slightest indication that she needed it.
Which, of course, she could not do. No one could ever know.
Kyle and Tina had come in from the kitchen and were watching the unfolding drama with speculative eyes.
Sibyl cleared her throat. “Everyone,” she announced loudly, “this is Colin. Colin,” she continued, feeling idiotic and throwing out her arm to encompass the room, “this is everyone.”
A cacophony of greetings emerged from the room.
“Are these your girls?” Colin asked after he’d arrogantly inclined his head to the elderly assemblage. His voice was quiet and his eyes were on the four girls who were staring at him as if he’d just stepped out of a movie screen.
“Um…” she started (bloody, bloody hell), “yes.”
“I’m Colin,” he introduced himself to the quartet.
“I’m Katie.” Cheeky Katie didn’t miss a trick and shot forward to shake his hand, a shake which Colin returned solemnly.
“Cheryl,” Cheryl offered but she was not nearly as bold, though she wasn’t going to be left out, thus no hand shake.
“Emma,” definitely not bold, Emma said her name in a timid squeak and kept her distance.
Flower, however, was staring at Sibyl.
“Did you really call us ‘your girls’ Miss Sibyl?” she asked breathlessly.
Sibyl looked at Flower who was staring at Sibyl with her heart in her eyes and Sibyl’s own heart melted.
She forgot Colin (or, at least, ignored him) and crouched next to Flower. “You are my girls so of course I did.”