CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Hello?”
“Ayalet, it's Hazel.”
“Oh hello, Hazel. “
“Listen, do you remember Perry Lane? Silly question, of course you do. What do you think of him?”
“Um, he's er, rather ... hairy?”
“You don't like his beard?”
“Well, it's not up to me, is it?” Ayalet was feeling confused. It was not an uncommon event. Ayalet often found her fellow villagers slightly bewildering.
“Why ever not?”
“Well, you know ... if you like big bushy beards then that's your affair and no-one else's business. Besides why do you want my opinion?”
“You silly girl! It's not me Perry is interested in.”
“Oh. Who then?”
“You.” Hazel sighed into her telephone's mouthpiece, it made an ugly roaring sound. “You dopey mare.”
“Me?”
“I take you're not exactly overwhelmed with joy.”
“Um ... he's a bit ... you know, rough ....”
“And hairy, yeah, I got that. But rough, well he's been on the road for an age, anyone would look rough after that. He'll soon clean up ... you might even get him to shave off that beard of his ....”
“Hazel, I don't know.”
“Oh don't be so wet, girl. Please don't tell me you're still carrying a torch for Gordy. You know he's only got eyes for Morwena.”
“I've never had eyes for Gordain. It was always the other way around. It was so embarrassing what with Morwena mooning around thinking he was hers.”
“Really? That's not what the grapevine was saying.”
“Well, perhaps I had some hand in that, to save Morwena's feelings. I only encouraged the story on the basis that Marsh would leave me alone.”
“Oh.” Hazel was genuinely surprised. In such a small community she found it hard to believe anyone could keep a secret, let alone misdirect the inevitable gossip-mongering. She felt a little peeved to have been left out of the loop and it showed in her voice.
“I'm sorry, Hazel, but you know ... a secret is a secret. You're not cross with me, are you?”
“No, of course not, dear. Now what do say about Perry? Shall I tell him you might be receptive to a date invitation?”
“I don't know, Hazel ....”
“Oh, come on Lettie,” Hazel knew Ayalet hated to hear her name mangled. “He's almost as shy as you are. He came here for dinner last night and it was so funny when he left. He stood in the doorway for a couple of seconds and I could see he was in agony trying to decide whether or not to kiss me goodnight ....” She laughed. “You know his mouth was all a quiver as he tried to make up his mind to peck me on the cheek or to try for a brush of the lips ... or just to say goodnight.”
“What did he do?” Ayalet sounded breathily intrigued.
“He said goodnight,” Hazel said, her tone heavily laced with irony. “I could've slapped him.”
“But Hazel, why don't
you want him?”
“I can't believe you asked me that, Ayalet Waldrom. Or was it so awful when I made a pass at you when we were seventeen, that you erased the memory completely?” She sniffed. “Besides, he has shown no interest in my ample charms whatsoever, whereas the slightest sight of you has him panting like wolf.”
“Oh dear.”
“Calm down, dearie, I'm exaggerating. He's far too shy to pant. Look am I going to tell him the lady is willing?”
“Oh, Hazel. You're such a bully. I suppose I can't talk you out of it?”
“You can try, sister, you can try.”
“Oh tell him what you like.”
“You won't regret it girl.”
Chapter Sixteen 