Five French Hens. Judy Leigh

And I can put my car in your garage – we can sell the little Fiat you have. You won’t need it – I can drive you wherever you want to go.’

      Jen nodded. It was a nice thought, having a husband, a chauffeur, someone to cook for and to share the cooking with. He clearly doted on her; he’d take care of her and make sure she wanted for nothing. She caught his eye and smiled. He was wearing a blue polo-neck shirt with blue jeans. He looked relaxed, attractive, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed at her. And she had made a special effort – a pretty dress with a slightly low neckline, her hair swept up.

      ‘You’re looking nice tonight, Jenny, my dear.’

      She wondered if he’d ask her to stay and her thoughts drifted to the toothbrush and the tube of face cream she’d popped in her handbag just in case. He offered her more boeuf bourguignon and she shook her head. ‘Thanks, Eddie – it was lovely though.’

      ‘I’ll get the spreadsheet, shall I, Jen? Or maybe we should have a coffee first? We can talk about the wedding. How does March thirtieth sound? Or April sixth? They are both available at the register office.’

      Jen felt a little tremor flutter across her skin. ‘That would be nice, Eddie. Do you think it’ll give me time to find something special to wear? After all, I want to choose something really nice.’

      Eddie smiled and inspected perfectly trimmed nails. ‘I know you’ll be smartly turned out, Jen.’

      ‘But I want to look especially good.’ She met his eyes. ‘I mean, I want to co-ordinate with you, and on the photos…’ She gave him a hopeful look. ‘We are having photos, aren’t we?’

      ‘My son, Harry, will do those. I’ve asked him already and he said he’d be delighted.’

      Jen nodded. ‘I haven’t met him yet.’

      ‘Oh, you will, on the day. I don’t see him that often, although he’s only up in Chester. It’s not as if he’s in a foreign country. He has a family and a busy life. In fact, I’ve been persuading him that he ought to take a break from his work – he has his own antique business. We spoke on the phone earlier. He’ll take a snap or two of our big day for us.’

      Jen glanced around the dining room. There were no photos of Harry or his family. There were no photos of Eddie or his wife, Pat, the one who’d died. In fact, there were no photos at all, just the polished wood dining table, the fireplace with the gas stove with synthetic flames, two armchairs and a gold-framed copy of Constable’s The Hay Wain on the wall. Jen tried again. ‘What will you be wearing, Eddie?’

      ‘My dark suit, probably. A carnation. So really, Jen, you can wear what you like. Get yourself a smart suit, cream maybe, or a light blue to complement my dark colour. Oh – and a hat is the way forward, isn’t it? For a mature woman at a wedding.’

      She nodded. Eddie stood up purposefully and left the room. He was in the adjacent kitchen. Cups were clinking, a kettle was on. Jen gazed around the room. There was little sign of Eddie’s personality, although she knew he had one. He was warm, light-hearted, good-humoured, and affectionate. He was going to be a wonderful husband and the simple sparseness of his home proved to Jen that he needed a feminine touch in his life. He’d find her home so much cosier when they were together as husband and wife. It would be a haven of love and stability for them both.

      Eddie returned carrying two china cups on saucers. ’I thought we’d have tea… I can’t drink coffee before I go to bed. I’d never sleep.’

      Jen wondered whether to suggest that that they drink coffee and forget completely about sleeping. She grinned shyly at Eddie and he placed a palm over her hand. It was a complicit gesture, she thought: he shared her state of mind; he was feeling warm and fuzzy too, with a mixture of desire and anticipation, as she was. Jen sipped her tea. His hand was still resting on the fingers of her left hand, touching the engagement ring gently. He murmured. ‘Jenny – there’s something I wanted to say…’

      She met his eyes and there was a melting feeling in the pit of her stomach, a little lower even. ‘Yes, Eddie?’

      He was going to ask her to stay the night. Her heart beat harder – she had forgotten her nightie. But it wouldn’t matter: she could ask to borrow one of his shirts. Or maybe she could break the habit of a lifetime and sleep as nature had intended. She gave him an encouraging grin, a stare that she hoped smouldered a little.

      ‘Jen – I was going to leave this until later but, well, I’m not sure it will wait…’

      Her heart thudded. She wondered whether to leave the seat and creep over towards him, to curl up on his lap and stare into his face, share a kiss, more kisses. His hand was still over hers. It hovered. He patted her fingers softly.

      ‘The thing is… there’s something I’ve been planning – something I’d really like to do. It would mean a lot to me if you said yes.’

      ‘Eddie?’

      ‘I hope you won’t mind me asking, Jen.’

      ‘Oh, no – I’m sure I won’t.’

      ‘The thing is…’

      ‘Eddie?’

      ‘Well, I’ll need to get tickets organised.’

      Jen stared at him. ‘Tickets?’

      Eddie chuckled. ‘My son, Harry, said I should have a stag night and I agreed. We discussed it and we’ve decided to go to Las Vegas together.’

      ’Las Vegas?’ Jen pulled her hand away. It flew to her mouth.

      ‘A stag night, just my son and me.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘We’ll stay for a few days, do a bit of sightseeing, and maybe have a little flutter in the casinos.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘You don’t mind if I go, do you, Jen?’

      ‘Oh. No, not at all.’

      ‘I thought it would be nice to spend some quality time with Harry. To catch up, just boys together. It’ll be real fun. But I wanted to ask you first – to check that you didn’t mind me going.’

      Jen nodded. She felt a little numb. It was not what she had been expecting him to ask her at all. Eddie was holding her hand across the table again. He murmured, ‘No doubt you’ll have a dinner out with your aqua aerobics friends? A hen party of sorts. You seemed to enjoy the last night out with the girls.’

      ‘Yes.’ Jen moved her head slightly in agreement. She didn’t understand why she was so stunned. She was not jealous of Eddie’s relationship with his son, Harry. It was good that they wanted to spend time together. But the idea of them gambling in Las Vegas shook her a little. Eddie had always seemed so frugal, so sensible. Their wedding was going to be a modest one; the honeymoon weekend in Lyme Regis would be cheap in comparison with Eddie’s stag night. But she was being silly: of course Eddie should celebrate with his son. And it was right that he was frugal and wise. It would be too easy for Jen to let her excitement run away with her and Eddie was her voice of reason. She felt a little awkward that her first reaction had been uncharitable. Jen wished she had her friends around her now; it would be good to talk this over with some sympathetic women.

      Eddie had moved away from the table; he had come to stand behind her; his lips brushed the top of her head. ‘My dear Jenny.’

      Her anxiety disappeared in a moment. She felt him leaning against her chair, the warmth of his cheek against the top of her head. His arm touched her shoulder gently. She slid up from her seat, turning round into his embrace. A kiss would make everything all right. An embrace, the crush of his lips against hers. They would kiss and kiss. Then she would stay the night.

      ‘Jen, my love, you look tired.’ He was holding up her coat. ‘I’ve called a taxi for eleven. I could walk you back but I thought it would be easier to organise a lift. We’ve both had wine.’

      Jen struggled into the sleeves as he buttoned her up. She felt like