Never Too Late by Alyssia Leon

narrowed, and her already thin lips became a line. “She hardly helped her own cause, the way she flaunted herself. It’s a wonder any woman’s husband was safe these past years.”
    Molly, only just managing to contain a gasp, shot Nan a shocked glance.
    But the bright spark was back in Nan’s eyes. “I always say it takes two to tango, Belinda. An unhappy man doesn’t need much enticing to jump to warmer pastures.” She smiled broadly. “But moving on to better things… How is Martin? It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”
    Belinda slid a narrow eyed glance in Molly’s direction, her thin fingers worrying the string of bone-white pearls around her neck. “He’s been rather busy lately, new clients, I believe.”
    Molly frowned at her evasive tone, but Nan was nodding in agreement. “And now he has to help Francine with Barrowdene’s sale.”
    “That’s of no import to Martin. He has little to do with Francine. So Lucy, I’ll plan something for a week from now and pass on the details to you. If you could ask Mr Hennessy? None of us have yet met him formally. He’s proving quite hard to pin down.”
    “He’s a busy man. But yes, you get on with your planning, Belinda, and let me know. Though, I wouldn’t be too hasty in setting the date. You should wait until Francine finishes selling Barrowdene to him, just to be on the safe side.”
    Belinda’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? I thought the sale had completed.”
    “Not yet. Francine can still call it off at anytime.”
    “Surely, she wouldn’t.” Belinda smirked. “There really is nothing here for Francine, and I understand she won’t get a better offer than the one Jake Hennessy has given her. I’ll speak to you later, Lucy.” And with a nod to Nan, she turned on her polished heel and left them.
    Nan chuckled. “I’m sensing there’s a whole gaggle of frustrated females desperate to meet Jake.” She reached for the teapot to pour herself another cup. “You know, when someone’s running for the edge of a cliff, I think it only fair to point out the jagged rocks below. But some of them just speed on ahead and topple over anyway.”
    Molly shot her a suspicious glance. “All right, I’ll bite. You’re up to something, aren’t you? What is it?”
    “Me? I’m never up to things. I don’t need to be. People manage to do things all to themselves.”
    * * *
    Two hours later, Molly was washing teacups in the church hall’s adjoining utility room. It was really just a glorified cupboard with a face-size window looking out on to a brick wall, and a steel sink with one cold water tap and room for barely two cups at a time. 
    She yawned. The day had been long, and the thought of her soft bed waiting in Rose Cottage was enticing.
    Nan, and a couple of other women, were staying at Clara Ainsley’s apartment above the post-office tonight. It was their regular Friday night over-sixty’s club, and Molly often suspected far more went on there than just knitting and embroidery. Especially if passers-by tales of night-long carousing and empty bottles the morning after were anything to go by.
    She, herself, had volunteered to stay and help with the clean-up, but all she wanted now was to finish these cups and head back to the cottage.
    Rinsing a cup she placed it to dry on the rack beside her. A voice snapped outside.
    “I’m telling you, I’ve always known. Ever since she started with him…”
    Molly frowned. Great. Belinda was still here.
    “Are you sure, Belinda? It’s just… so hard to believe.” Kathleen sounded shrill and panicky as usual.
    Molly slowed her hands in the sink. The two weren’t close enough to the utility room to realize someone was inside. She reached for a second cup to make some clattering noise in the sink.
    Kathleen’s voice came again. “You must be wrong. Not Molly, surely.”
    Molly froze, cup in hand.
    “Don’t be stupid, Kathleen. It’s all over the village. And you should be more careful. You