Wild

At school, Florence was the clever one, Ena the beautiful, Pat the meek

- By Wendy Erskine

From her sitting-room window, Pat sees the taxi pull up, Ena and Florence in the back. The three women in their seventies are going on an overnight trip to the Flower Show, just as they did last year, and the one before that.

Pat checks again that she has switched off the immersion heater, yes, of course she has, then picks up her little brown leather holdall and gives the front door a firm pull behind her.

Florence's pear and black pepper perfume, her signature scent as she calls it, fills the car.

“Good morning, Pat,” Ena says. “I thought you said you were going to wear your blue jacket.”

“Oh sorry, I couldn't find it,” Pat replies.

“You should have put your bag in the boot!” Florence says. “Our bags are in the boot.”

Yes, there had been a lot of conversations about bringing the right bags and the right jackets. Pat, on a whim, is in fact wearing a jacket her granddaughter borrowed and which was returned only last night. She saw it on the kitchen chair this morning and decided to wear it.

The taxi driver turns on to the road that will bring them closer to the City Airport. Ena is already on the subject of the family’s holiday home on the north coast. Over the years she has talked quite extensively about this place: the renovations, the woes of the previous owner, an alcoholic who was a DIY incompetent, the piece of land she and Ed had to buy in order to complete the extension.

And now, the eye-watering sum they’re going to get for it when they sell it! She repeats it in case they did not catch it.