Not Quite Nice by Celia Imrie Page B

set of yours, by the way. Well done you, picking up something so fabulous.’
    ‘It was my big extravagance,’ said Theresa.
    ‘Always be extravagant.’ William pulled the car into an empty space in a central car park. ‘The horrors you’ll feel from being extravagant are never as soul-destroying as the ones you get when you’re tight and deprive yourself of the things you crave.’
    ‘Depends whether you mean tight drunk or tight mean!’
    ‘I’m sure you’re never drunk.’
    ‘No, never.’ Theresa laughed. ‘Can’t afford it.’
    When they arrived back at the flat, the new boiler was already being fitted.
    ‘He’s going to attach the thing to the taps, then see about replacing the radiators next week,’ Carol explained. ‘But at least in the meanwhile you’ll have patchy heat and plentiful hot water.’ Carol indicated down to the small halogen heater which was glowing in the corner. ‘I must say that’s a very effective little thing.’
    Theresa paid the locksmith and had just closed the front door after him, when the bell rang again.
    ‘He’s forgotten something.’ Carol looked around for a misplaced tool box.
    ‘Or he’s angling for a drink,’ said William.
    Brian was standing on the step clutching a bottle of wine.
    ‘Oh, you’ve come for your phone.’ Theresa stepped into the bustling living room. ‘Everything has changed since I last saw you. It’s like a miracle.’
    Brian adjusted his tie and blazer and came in.
    ‘Oh, Lord! Actually, it’s all a bit of a coincidence.’ He held up a piece of paper. ‘I was just at the tabac, looking at the “rooms to let” signs and I came across this one. I had no idea it was my damsel in distress till I arrived here at your front door!’
    ‘Another Limey!’ Carol rose and held out a hand. ‘My my, our little Anglo-Saxon community is growing like mint. It’s sprawling all over the place! I’m Carol, by the way, and, if you hadn’t guessed from my accent, I’m an American. And the fellow over there being very butch with some copper piping is my husband, David.’
    ‘Brian Powell.’ Brian gave a little deferential nod as he shook Carol’s hand. ‘What an enchanting place this is.’
    William also introduced himself, while Theresa went off in search of Brian’s phone, which was on a bench in the kitchen, surrounded by wrenches and tins of Plumbers’ Mate.
    She grabbed it and handed it over. ‘I’m so grateful, Brian. I don’t know where I’d have been without you.’
    ‘Oh, don’t worry.’ He held up the bottle of wine. ‘I brought this because I was heading here to give it to you to help cheer you up after . . . what happened.’ Brian shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Could I see the room now, or should I come back later?’ he asked.
    ‘Oh – you seriously want to see the room!’ Theresa walked him through and showed him the spare room. She couldn’t believe how an afternoon could turn round so quickly and how her despair had turned to excited hope and happiness.
    ‘I know it’s a little dark,’ she said, pulling open the curtains. ‘And there will be a bed, of course. I’m off furniture hunting first thing in the morning.’
    ‘It’s not anything permanent,’ said Brian. ‘You do understand I only want somewhere till I get settled?’
    ‘That’s fine with me,’ said Theresa. ‘You’re exactly what I’m looking for.’
    ‘Then I’ll take it,’ said Brian with a smile to the roomful of people. ‘Aren’t I lucky!’
    ‘Stay for a drink, Brian?’ Theresa turned to the assembly. ‘Anyone got a corkscrew?’
    ‘Yay,’ said Ted, producing a penknife from his pocket. ‘It’s wine o’clock.’

12
    Sally arrived bright and early for her first lesson in power-boating.
    The school was round the corner from the port in Nice. The building itself, a dark shop with painted-out windows, was up a small shabby alleyway off the busy road leading to the ferries which sailed night and day to Corsica and