Lil's Bus Trip , livre ebook

Boldwood Books - Judy Leigh

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212 pages

English

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From the USA Today bestselling author of Five French Hens and The Old Girls' Network comes a story of the journey of a lifetime across Europe in pursuit of memories, love, and new adventures. It’s always a good time for a road trip…

When 82-year-old Lil decides to book herself, her 65-year-old daughter, Cassie, and her friend Maggie on a bus trip across Europe, she hopes for a little adventure to counteract the monotony of life.

Along with three members of the Salterley Tennis Club and the Jolly Weaver football team, whose ideas of a good time are rather different to Lil’s and strikingly at odds with each other’s, the merry band of travellers set out on their great adventure.

From moving moments on the beaches of Normandy, outrageous adventures in Amsterdam, to the beauty of Bruges and gastronomic delights of France, the holiday is just the tonic Lil, Maggie and Cassie needed.

And as the time approaches for them to head home, Lil makes an unexpected discovery - even in her advancing years, men are like buses – there isn’t one for ages then two come along at once. Is Lil ready to share her golden years, and can the ladies embrace the fresh starts that the trip has given them. Or is it just too late to change…

Judy Leigh is back with her trademark promise of laughter, happiness, friendship, and timeless lessons in how to live. Perfect for fans of Debbie Macomber, Dawn French and Cathy Hopkins.

Praise for Judy Leigh:

'Lovely, feel good read. The perfect escape. Highly recommended.' Della Galton

‘Brilliantly funny, emotional and uplifting’ Miranda Dickinson

'Lovely . . . a book that assures that life is far from over at seventy' Cathy Hopkins bestselling author of The Kicking the Bucket List

'Brimming with warmth, humour and a love of life… a wonderful escapade’ Fiona Gibson, bestselling author of The Woman Who Upped and Left

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Publié par	Boldwood Books
Date de parution	26 août 2021
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781801623193
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,2050€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

LIL’S BUS TRIP

JUDY LEIGH
For G
CONTENTS

TOBY JUGG TOURS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Acknowledgments

More from Judy Leigh

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
TOBY JUGG TOURS
THE BEST IN THE SOUTH WEST

Travel to Europe by luxury minibus Visit the war graves of Northern France See fairy-tale buildings and fascinating architecture Wander through the historic cities of Belgium Marvel at the stunning scenery Experience a day of farm life and share a hearty Belgian feast Sail on the canals of Amsterdam Sample Belgian chocolate, French cuisine and the gastronomic delights of Amsterdam Enjoy the robust beers and refreshing lagers of Northern Europe Stay overnight in comfortable hotels Ten nights. Twelve places available. Contact Tommy Judd for details
1

‘Can I have some butter on this toast, Keith?’
Lil picked up a slice of toast and bit into it. The butter melted over the perfectly crusty edges.
‘It’s already dripping with butter, Lil.’
Keith, the owner of Keith’s Kaff across the road from Clover Hill Retirement Home, winked in Lil’s direction and raised his voice cheerily, making sure that everyone else in the café – a young mum with a toddler, two men in work-clothes eating sausages – could hear every word.
‘It’s bone dry,’ Lil waved her arms theatrically. ‘This toast could be classified as a murder weapon, it’s so hard.’
Keith wiped a table with strong arms, inked with tattoos. He was around forty, certainly no more than half Lil’s age. He called back, ‘I’m watching your figure for you, darling.’
‘No one’s watched my figure in years,’ Lil retorted.
It was part of Lil’s routine to cross the road every day, have breakfast in the cosy café set back from the main road and pretend to give Keith a hard time. He would flirt with her in return. It was what they always did. She’d tell him that there wasn’t enough butter on the toast and he’d retaliate with a laconic remark about watching her figure or old people being better off without the high cholesterol, and she would reply with the same comment every time.
‘I’m nearly in my grave already, Keith, so I may as well go with a smile on my face and my toast dripping with butter. Didn’t you know, that’s the meaning of life: butter?’
And today, as ever, Keith, his hair slicked back, murmured, ‘You know you love me, Lil.’
To which she replied, ‘Always and forever, sweetie,’ before he wandered back into the kitchen whistling.
‘What about some peanut butter, darling?’ Lil called after him. Then, in mock-desperation, she yelled, ‘Marmalade?’
Lil chewed toast and pulled her book from her huge, round, cat-faced handbag. She’d wander back to Clover Hill and see what Maggie, her neighbour, was doing. There wasn’t much happening today in the recreation room: no yoga for seniors, and the hairdresser didn’t come until Monday. Today was Friday.
The cartoon picture on the front cover of the novel showed a cheerful woman in a low-cut blouse, a tight-fitting riding jacket, muscular thighs in jodhpurs and a whip in her hand. She was riding on the back of a dark-haired man who was crouched on all fours, a shocked expression in her eyes. The woman’s blonde mane flew wildly from beneath her riding hat and, in the hand that didn’t hold the whip, she was using the man’s tie as reins. Her smile was one of wild abandon. The man was wearing little else other than his tie and a small pair of briefs: Lil noted that his caricature-body was well-toned. The title of the book was Fifty Shades of Hay. Lil was halfway through the book and was really enjoying the plot: Annette, the gorgeous, lascivious heroine, certainly knew how to frolic in the hay with all sorts of different people. Lil liked books with a lot of nooky in them; it fascinated her to read about women’s raunchy exploits. They seemed to be in charge of their own love lives nowadays. She shook her head; sadly, there hadn’t been much passion in her own life. And things had changed so much since 1953.
She pulled out the old photo that she had always kept in a frame but, since Cassie had it laminated, she’d used it as a bookmark so that she could keep it with her. The black and white image beneath the laminate was cracked, despite her efforts to care for it over the years. It was the only photo she had of Frankie. They were relaxing together on a rug on the grass, probably sharing a picnic – she couldn’t remember. He had his arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer to him, smiling. It was as if he thought she belonged to him. He was handsome and carefree, with dark, curly hair and a happy appearance. He was in his soldier’s uniform – of course he would have been: he had been in the US Army, stationed in the UK back in the fifties, after the war. And Lil was sitting upright next to him, her dark hair pinned up at the sides, serious, shy, not sure if she was allowed to smile although she’d felt deliriously happy. She had truly loved him, even though they’d only shared a few months together.
Lil closed her eyes and thought about the man in the photograph, her Frankie. He’d been four years older than her; he was twenty then. He’d be eighty-six now. Lil wondered if he was still alive. She turned the photo over. The paper on the back was yellowed, and faded writing in a cursive style proclaimed the snap was Lily and Frank, 1953. Lil returned it to the novel, marking the page where Annette and Rory, the gigolo jockey, were currently adjusting each other’s riding tackle in the paddock.
‘I wonder if I should have worked at a riding school. Or lived on a farm.’ Lil brushed crumbs from her lips. ‘I’d have liked the country life, all those animals.’
But it was too late to change her lifestyle now: she was at Clover Hill and that was fine. She liked the other residents; each day she met Maggie from next door for a cuppa in Keith’s Kaff so that they could complain about Maggie’s dreadful husband, Brian; she had her independence. Usually, she couldn’t be bothered to use the little hotplate in the tiny kitchenette and Keith across the road cooked good, reasonably priced food, as long as you could supplement it with lashings of ketchup.
Besides, Cassie, Lil’s beloved Cassie, more like a sister than a daughter, lived only a mile away at the bottom of Clover hill. Having Cassie living so close was a blessing and Lil always looked forward to Cassie’s visits and the updates about what she’d been doing; Cassie was a performance poet now and Lil was really proud of everything she’d achieved in her life. Lil had so many photos of her: one of her at sixteen, smiling as she won the literature prize at school; graduation, at Bristol; another in her thirties, surrounded by the children she had taught English in Africa and China; another, on Stage Two at the Edinburgh Festival years ago. And now Cassie was a frequent visitor, often bringing Lil’s favourite sweets, the green chocolate triangles.
But, despite all that activity, Lil found she was often a little bored. Routine was fine for some people but Lil craved distraction, something to amuse her, and at such times Lil always had Jenny Price, Duty Manager at Clover Hill, whose office she would visit in secret. It was Lil’s favourite pastime, finding new opportunities to do random acts of kindness for Jenny, who always seemed unhappy. Lil glanced at the clock. It was past ten thirty. She wondered if Jenny would be out of her office and if she’d forgotten to lock the door again.
Lil crossed the road at a steady pace and pushed open the gate that led to Clover Hill Retirement Home. She had a comfortable flat on the second floor, consisting of a modern lounge-diner, a prettily decorated bathroom, a bedroom and a kitchenette in the sheltered housing block overlooking the beach and the railway line in Salterley. It was more luxurious than the place she’d had as a young mum, with a shared kitchen, a tin bath, and an outside toilet, so Lil considered she’d done quite well for herself.
As she wandered through the gardens, beyond the house to the sea below, Lil remembered the harder times. In 1953, she had been sixteen; she had only known the handsome, dark-eyed American soldier for three months. Sex wasn’t something she had fully understood: it had only happened once, a frenzied fumble in the car park of a pub in Heyford. Frankie had been sent back to the States two weeks later; he hadn’t known she was expecting the baby. Lil sighed. If that was love, it had all occurred far too quickly and then it had been shoved to one side, never to occur again. She had decided that love broke your heart and when children came along, they occupied your every moment and became all the love you needed. There was no time for much else.
Her parents had been furious with her, quickly embarrassed by the tightness of her skirt, the expanding waistline, and the neighbours’ whispered judgements. Lil’s mother had narrowed her eyes and told Lil that she’d made her bed, so she could darn well lie on it now. Her words had pointedly suggesting that Lil had already been lying on a bed with someone she shouldn’t and now she was in the trouble she deserved; she’d brought shame on the family in the process and should be made to suffer all over again. Lil was too young and too naïve to plead that she wasn’t quite sure how it had all happened, but she was very, very sorry.
Lil’s father had allowed her to stay in the house, to bring the baby up under his roof until she could find a pla