WEEKLY SOAP Riverside by Glenda Young

George and Mary hope their dinner party goes without a hitch . . .

ANNA sprawled on the sofa in the riverside flat she shared with her sister. They were both taking a well-earned afternoon off from the salon after what had been a busy few weeks for them both.

Anna was peeling the skin from the last of the festive tangerines when she looked at her sister, who was checking her phone.

“Where’s he taking you tonight, this new man of yours?” Anna asked Carol.

“To the Old Engine Room for dinner,” Carol replied.

“Oh?” Anna raised an eyebrow. “I thought he might have been able to afford something more flash than that, as it’s your first proper meal together.” She sniffed. “He must be worth a bob or two.”

Carol put her phone to one side and picked up the TV listings magazine. She tried to pretend she was searching through the films on offer, but her sister’s words niggled at her more than she cared to admit.

“It’s early days between Joe and me,” Carol said. “I expect he doesn’t want to take me anywhere fancy in case things don’t work out. We’re still finding our way with each other.”

“Where does he work, then, in this publishing job of his?” Anna asked. Carol shrugged.

“He owns a chain of book shops, that’s all I know. He told me he travels a lot.”

Anna shot her sister a look.

“Is he a Ryemouth lad?” “I don’t think so,” Carol replied. “To be honest, I don’t know much about him yet, but I’m hoping to find out tonight. I hope the Old Engine Room’s new menu isn’t full of sprout dishes like it was over Christmas and New Year.”

“That sprout wine,” Anna said, pulling a face at the memory.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Carol asked.

“I’ve been invited to Mary and George’s place for a meal. Jim and Ruby will be there, and Bob Lewin and Audrey, too.”

Preparations were in full swing at George and Mary’s house for the dinner Mary was making for their friends and neighbours.

Mary was up to her elbows in pastry and flour, baking sausage rolls and chicken pies. Ruby had called in earlier with muffins that Beryl had baked and a trifle that Pearl had made.

On Mary’s kitchen table stood a pile of plates and a packet of paper napkins.

There was a pile of knives and forks and the table was covered with all shapes and sizes of glasses that George had found at the back of the cupboards.

As Mary baked, George lugged beer and bottles of wine into the kitchen.

“Do you think we’ve got enough?” he asked Mary.

She turned her head to see the mountain of boxes stacked up against the kitchen wall.

“I think you’ve got enough to last us till Easter.”

“What time are they all coming?” he asked.

“Seven. Susan and Dave said they’d pop in after service closes at the deli. Mike will come then, and Clive’s coming with his girlfriend.

“Graeme Little’s coming, too. Susan says he’s turned out to be a great worker, so they’ve taken him on as an apprentice.”

“Who’s looking after Sarah?” George asked.

“We are,” Mary replied, smiling at the thought of their granddaughter. “Susan’s bringing her over later. I’ll put her in the bed in Susan’s old room as I always do.”

“I hope we won’t wake her,” George said.

He walked towards Mary and snuggled into the back of her.

“Because if I put my Elvis records on after the dinner, you and me will be rocking and rolling. There will be no holding me back tonight, Mary!”

Mary turned around and kissed George.

“You daft lump!”

At seven o’clock, George was going through his Elvis albums when the doorbell rang.

Mary jumped up to answer it.

At the door were Ruby and Jim. Behind them were Ruby’s aunts Beryl and Pearl.

“Come in,” Mary told them, taking coats and hats and handing them to George to hang up.

Then she headed to the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a drink.

Neither she nor George noticed that a woman in a black hat came into their house and quietly made her way up the stairs. George was too busy chatting to Beryl, and Mary’s attention was focused on pouring drinks for everyone.

Later that night, just after the clock struck ten, Susan and Dave arrived.

Susan kissed her mum and dad and said she wanted to check on Sarah before she had a bite to eat. But it was an ashenfaced Sarah who came back down the stairs.

She was trembling, too. “Mum?” she whispered. “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s in your bedroom where she always is when she stays,” Mary replied.

George stood stock still when he saw his daughter with tears streaming down her face.

“Susan? What on earth’s the matter?” he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders.

Susan looked from her mum to her dad.

“Someone’s taken her. The bed’s empty. Sarah’s gone!”