Just in time Rosanne stepped back from the brink, Doris’s words repeating in her brain like some staccato code. She stood there on the pontoon staring into the water.

Time and again Doris had warned her.

“Do not do it, Rosie,” she said over and over, until she sounded like a cracked CD. But had Rosanne taken any notice? Well, she had to a point, but Doris didn’t have to look Aurora Hepplethwaite in the eye and say ‘no’. It was the sort of foolish gaff and colossal faux pas that put you right back into the Senior Citizen’s Bingo Group and the social wilderness. When it had taken you months to rise to the exalted heights of the Ladies’ Reading and Discussion Circle you took your turn as hostess and refreshment provider at the monthly afternoon tea party with happy enthusiasm, or you paid the price of total ostracism henceforth. ‘No, Aurora, sorry I can’t?’ Of course not.

“Yes, Aurora,” you chortled, “of course, dear. Only too happy. Only too delighted. So excited to have my turn at last...”

In a pig’s arse.

“Idiot,” said Doris, when Rosanne had stopped wailing over the phone. “About time someone told that woman to get...”

“Yes, yes, yes. I know, I know. But I had to say I’d do it. It was my turn to do afternoon tea. I had no alternative. What can I do?”

“Have a heart attack. Or bird flu. That’s better - bird flu is highly contagious. Then they’ll never want to come to your place in case of infection so you’ll be safe.”

“Get a grip, Doris. We don’t have bird flu here on the Coast. I suppose I could have a heart attack. I could get Harold to ring her and say I was in hospital.” Rosanne thought a minute. “No, that’s no good. She’d try to visit me there. She does Good Works you know, hospital visiting and all that...”

“Good Works? Oh for heaven’s sake. Well, Rosie, I think you’re stuck with it.”

“But Doris! You know me - I’m the world’s worst cook. I can do sandwiches and asparagus rolls and even savoury toast, but I can’t cook cakes. I can’t even make macadamia nut cookies. My scones turn out like rocks - you remember the time Harold sent one through the post to his brother with a tag tied to it - ‘One Of Rosanne’s Sinkers’. I can’t even do that ‘throw it all together in a bowl and mix’ chocolate cake. I’m desperate, Doris, desperate...”

“Well buy them for crying out loud!”

“Buy them?”

“Come on Rosie, go to that shop ‘Death by Chocolate’ and order up big.”

“I can’t!” Rosanne’s mewling rose to new heights. “Laurine Marks has already done that. She had one of the best nosh-ups we’ve had, but Aurora went through her rubbish and found the cardboard cake boxes. There was a terrible scene. Laurine hasn’t been to the Circle since and I’ve heard she’s wandering along the beach each afternoon muttering to herself.”

Doris hooted. “Well, okay then, do my Berry Splurge.”

“What?”

“Even you can’t mess that up. Anyway, if you do mess it, it won’t matter. You take a large clear glass bowl - deep as possible, Rosie, not those pitiful things you have. Go to the local ‘Cheap as Chips’ and buy something huge.”

“Huge?”

“Yes something like the ones you put goldfish into. A tank. Then get lots of those sponge finger biscuit thingies, line the bottom of the bowl with them, then cover them with sweet sherry until they swell up. Then boil up tinned raspberries or mixed berries or whatever until it sort of thickens, and tip them all over the sloshed sponge fingers. Then de-pip a heap of fresh cherries or else drain a tin of those too, and spread some of them all over the mess you’ve already created. Slosh in a thick layer of whipped cream on top of that. Repeat those layers till you get to the top of the bowl. If it gets a bit liquid you just put in more sponge fingers. You can put in vodka too. It doesn’t show up like sherry does so nobody knows it’s there. Just add more sponge. It’s why you need a huge bowl. On the top do something artistic with fruit.”

“I dunno, Doris...”

“You can do it Rosie. Honestly, it’s a knockout and if you have it swimming in sherry the Reading and Discussion Circle won’t know what’s hit them. Afterwards they’ll be hysterical. Aurora Hepplethwaite’ll be sloshed to the eyeballs. You should have seen Arthur after two platefuls of my Berry Splurge...”

It was thinking about Berry Splurge that brought Rosanne back from the brink. The turgid waters of the canal were pretty uninviting after all. Not a good way to end one’s days, down there in the mud with the stingrays and the eels and the rusty pram frames, just because of Aurora Hepplethwaite.

Rosanne stood there on the pontoon staring into the water. Her vision glazed. Ripples fanned out and Aurora’s face appeared from the depths, from nowhere. She had on the little feather hat with the rosebud cluster but it seemed the cluster was dangling over her left ear. A spiral of wire stuck like a spring from the hat making her look like some alien out of Doctor Who. Aurora Hepplethwaite was laughing. Not only laughing, she was hysterical, throwing back her head and braying, her cheeks flushed bright red, her nose like a split cherry. Perhaps it was a split cherry...

Not only that, Aurora Hepplethwaite’s eyes were crossed. She was trying to focus on the Book of the Day but in the end she just threw it up in the air and pages spewed out, fluttering like dead leaves to the table to drown in the remains of a tank full of Berry Splurge. Aurora Hepplethwaite screamed with laughter, then fell face forward into the cream and slush. And was silent. The members of the Ladies’ Reading and Discussion Group stood as one and cheered. They rushed to hug and congratulate Rosanne, who stood there, modestly flourishing the serving spoon which dripped raspberry juice.

The scene faded.

Berry Splurge?

Rosanne lifted her eyes from the vision, and an evil smile twisted her lips. I can do that...

_________

Helen Ellis has been a writer for many years. Originally an Editor for trade and charity magazines, she turned her attention to the theatre and wrote adaptations for Musicals and sketches for Revue. An antique dealer for 25 years, she had many published articles in 'The Antique Trader' magazine. Helen's work has also appeared here before, including "The Asteroid," the winning entry for the CautionaryTale contest 13 Verbs. Her first novel, Max and the Gang of Five, is available from Zeus Publications.