Summer Strawberries at Swallowtail Bay

by Katie Ginger

  ‘What was it you wanted to speak to me about?’ he asked.

  The deep well-spoken vowels sent a vibration through Hetty’s body, just as they had in the committee meeting. She’d had to concentrate very hard on Gwen’s miserable face to keep herself on track. ‘I’ve had a great response from the food vendors, and I think we’ll be able to fill this field and another. And tomorrow I’m going to see Horrocks’ Travelling Carnival who I really hope can come, but they need pretty much a whole field to themselves. So this is my plan—’

  A wry smile had pulled the corners of John’s mouth up and Hetty was momentarily distracted by how much more handsome it made him. His face lost its hard edges and he seemed so much younger and carefree.

  Forcing herself to look away, she continued. ‘I thought the lower field for the vendors as we agreed, the west field …?’ She pointed to another green field filled with tall spindles of grass, and John nodded to confirm she had the right one. ‘For parking only. The east field for toilet facilities and the funfair, and the middle field – not the north field’– she rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of the names – ‘for some of the additional food vendors and the mobile film screen where we’ll do the movie screening on the Saturday night.’

  ‘I still can’t believe we’re doing a film screening.’

  The ‘we’ didn’t escape Hetty’s notice and she enjoyed the way it fell so easily from his mouth. ‘Well,’ she replied, proudly, ‘we really need people to stay at the festival for as long as possible. I’ve decided rather than charging a pitch fee we’ll get a percentage of profits. It gives us the biggest opportunity for a decent return, so we need to give people a reason to travel to us and spend the whole day. The funfair will go some way to ensuring that and attracting families, but a film screening where people can relax with picnic blankets, maybe champagne, is a great way to attract people well into the evening.’ He nodded, clearly impressed, and Hetty brushed her short hair over her ear. ‘Next year we could even look at camping opportunities, or glamping—’

  ‘Next year?’ It was said with a chortle that Hetty couldn’t read and she felt an uncharacteristic heat rise in her cheeks.

  ‘Well, if the food festival goes well and we both get what we want, there’s no reason we couldn’t look into it.’ She hadn’t mentioned camping to Macie yet. Hetty and Macie had a shared loathing of this particular outdoor pursuit. Neither of them could understand the appeal of sleeping on the ground and were terrified that ants might crawl into their knickers in the middle of the night. Admittedly, it would probably be more traumatic for the ant, but it would leave an emotional scar on them too. People who enjoyed the great outdoors with such wild enthusiasm were always a bit intimidating, and then there was the whole toilet situation. But other people seemed to enjoy it.

  Feeling slightly defensive now under his intent gaze, Hetty examined the Ordnance Survey map and kept her eyes from him. Though he wasn’t, it felt like John was incredibly close to her and that pure power and heat were radiating off him.

  ‘So, what will there be at the funfair?’

  ‘Funfair-type-things,’ she replied sarcastically. Then realising she was being churlish and not in the slightest bit professional, she added, ‘A carousel, helter-skelter, ghost train, dodgems and a fun house. Oh, and some of the smaller bits and bobs they have like hook-a-duck and a coconut shy, that sort of thing. I haven’t got my list for that, it’s in the car.’

  John reached up and brushed his right eyebrow with an index finger. ‘I haven’t been to a funfair in – well, I don’t think I can remember when.’

  ‘Then you should definitely stop by during the food festival.’ She chanced a glance and saw him smiling and the next sentence was out before she could stop it, coming from her brain without permission. ‘Even better, why not come with me tomorrow to visit Horrocks’?’

  ‘Come with you?’ He was almost as surprised at her offer as she was.

  Her spine tingled with anticipation and embarrassment. ‘I understand if you’re busy. It is short notice. But Horrocks’ are presently at a country fair not too far from here. I thought you might like to come along and meet them too. If you’ve got lots to do then—’

  ‘No – no, I’d like to.’ He smiled again in that relaxed way that softened his features. ‘What time shall we meet?’

  ‘I can pick you up at ten,’ Hetty said. Unusually she was having to feign confidence as the thought of being with him unnerved her more than she was used to. It wasn’t until after he’d agreed and walked back towards the house she wondered if he’d be able to fit his entire frame in Myrtle. And the thought of the lord of the manor all crumpled up in the passenger seat of her Mini made her laugh out loud.

  Chapter 10

  Hetty pulled up at the country fair, smiling from ear to ear. John was grinning too, happy to at last remove his knees from his chin. He should have remembered Hetty had a Mini. He should also have remembered her cheeky sense of humour because she’d been hiding a sly smile every time she glanced in his direction which had been quite often. He didn’t know if it was just out of amusement, but it made his insides squirm in a very pleasant way.

  ‘Here we are then,’ she said cheerfully, her voice ringing with excitement as she unclipped her seatbelt and climbed out.

  The country showground was already busy with people and the car park was filling up quickly. As Hetty hurried on into the fair, John watched her go. She had a beautiful hourglass figure made all the more attractive by the skinny jeans she was wearing. Pulling his eyes away, he made a mental note of where they were parked.

  The country fair was in the depths of the Kent countryside and while John had admired the scenery as they drove along, he suddenly felt a very real love for his home. Whether it was due to the overpowering smell of manure he wasn’t sure, but he much preferred the seaside to the countryside – and Swallowtail Bay had the perfect mix of both.

  ‘Come on,’ Hetty called, walking backwards. With her giant sunglasses and short hair, she looked incredibly chic. ‘I want to see the pigs.’

  ‘Pigs?’

  ‘Yep. There’s a piglet race soon.’

  ‘Please tell me we’re not having animals at our event. That would pretty much hospitalise my mother.’ Not to mention the extra room it would require and the smells it would create. Not inducive to selling food, he concluded.

  She laughed at his joke and it brought a smile to his face, diminishing the stress he’d felt that morning. A loose piece of guttering had swung down and bashed against his mother’s window, frightening her half to death and cracking the pane. He’d added it to the ever-increasing list of things that needed fixing. The trouble wasn’t so much the list itself but trying to prioritise it. How did you decide what was a priority when everything needed fixing with some degree of urgency?

  ‘Are you looking forward to having this many people at Thornhill Hall?’ she asked as they entered a balloon-covered archway into the fairground proper.

  ‘Umm, I’m not really sure,’ he answered honestly. Seeing Hetty’s confused look, he gave her a little more explanation ‘Of course I want as many people there as possible but—’

  ‘You don’t fancy venturing into the world of the great unwashed?’ He knew she was teasing but her comment hurt. Did she still think he was like that? He’d hoped she might know him better by now. ‘Or are you going to hide in your house for the entire weekend with the door barricaded?’

  ‘No, no hiding for me. My mother, though …’ He sucked some air in. ‘Now, that’s a different story.’

  ‘Oh?’ A flash of concern passed over Hetty’s face. ‘Is she not in favour of the idea? I’m sorry if that’s causing you any problems.’

  ‘She’s always been like it,’ John said with a shrug. ‘Always against opening up the house to visitors even though it could help us a lot.’ Surprised at his own openness, he frowned. ‘Anyway, where are these pigs and are we seeing them before or after we meet Mr Horrocks?’

  �
��After. Let’s get business out of the way first, then we can have some fun.’

  Fun? The term was alien to him these days. Fun was having a day when he didn’t have to tackle some minor messy problem. Fun was a day when he could focus solely on his antiques business. Fun wasn’t something he came across very often and he wondered if he could even be fun after all this time. Sometimes he felt far older than his years, more like his father’s age than his own; too old for fun. But today he was determined to be different. Today, he was determined to forget about the house and its problems and enjoy the sunshine.

  They walked past a number of pens containing enormous cows the size of monster trucks and as they lowed and fidgeted, rustling the straw beneath their feet, John and Hetty headed to the funfair. She was busy making notes on her phone as she went, clearly studying the layout of the place and anything else of interest.

  ‘It’s missing a bit of atmosphere isn’t it?’ Hetty said, looking around her. ‘There’s no music, only lots of loud voices.’ A giant shire horse made her jump as it was led past, neighing and shaking its head.

  ‘Wasn’t that atmospheric enough for you?’

  Hetty narrowed her eyes in mock reproach. ‘That wasn’t atmospheric, it was terrifying. I had no idea horses could be that big.’

  ‘They’re beautiful creatures though.’ John admired the animal. It was a working horse, bred for a hard, strenuous life. He felt an affinity with it, slogging away with no hope of an end.

  ‘Can you ride?’

  ‘Why? Because I live in a big house I must be able to ride a horse? Like we all must have gone to Eton and know all the rules to polo.’ His voice had taken on that grumpy edge again.

  Hetty’s eyebrows were just visible over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Well, can you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he conceded with a grudge.

  ‘Ha!’ She pointed at him, and strangely his response was to smile. Normally he’d be curt or even walk away, but with Hetty he couldn’t.

  ‘But that’s not the point. Lots of people who don’t live in big houses learn to ride a horse.’

  ‘Did you do that whole hunting thing?’

  He could tell from her tone she didn’t approve. Luckily for him, his family didn’t either. ‘No. Mother couldn’t stand anything like that.’

  ‘Good.’

  Why did her approval matter so much to him? He wasn’t used to feeling like this and it was unnerving.

  Hetty paused in front of him, staring at the funfair in awe. He could tell from the way her cheeks had risen as she smiled it was exactly what she was looking for. It was, however, enormous and would definitely take up most of the field they’d allocated for it.

  After asking one of the funfair staff for his whereabouts, they located Mr Horrocks, sat on the steps of his own little wooden caravan, sipping at a cup of tea.

  ‘Mr Horrocks, I’m Hetty Colman.’

  ‘Miss Colman,’ he replied kindly, holding out his hand. He had a round red face, weather-beaten and thread-veined, and a mop of white hair that made him look like a summery version of Father Christmas. He wore a bright red coat with tails, like that of a circus master, and big black boots.

  John felt like all his senses were being assaulted at once. The air was heavy with the smell of boiled sweets; beeps, bleeps and noises came from every direction; and flashing lights were everywhere. Standing in the middle of the funfair with its activity and noise, it suddenly seemed like he’d been living his life in black and white while all around him everyone else experienced glorious technicolour.

  Hetty was in her element again, chatting to Mr Horrocks, and John left her to it. They genially discussed details of the set-up, checked documents and exchanged information. Mr Horrocks seemed a very nice man and he took them on a tour of the carnival. It was a very old-fashioned one which seemed perfect for their event, and Hetty was happy with it too, which was enough for John. Strange, given that he always had to know the ins and outs of something before agreeing to it, but Hetty exuded such confidence he trusted her implicitly.

  ‘I think Mr Horrocks is going to be absolutely perfect,’ she said when the meeting finished, and they went to find the piglets. ‘You were very quiet.’

  ‘I didn’t have much to add. You had everything under control.’

  ‘I was worried you were changing your mind about giving me the extra land and having all these extra bits.’

  John shook his head. ‘If you can make this festival bigger and better, I’d be a fool to say no. And if these extras are going to make us more money …’

  Hetty gave a cheeky smile. ‘You’re right, you would be a fool to say no.’

  ‘Did you think I was one?’ He raised one eyebrow, teasing, but unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.

  ‘Did you think me one?’ It was a nice evasion tactic, but he could play that game too.

  ‘I asked you first.’

  A smile pulled at her lips. ‘I admit, when we met that day at Raina’s I did think you’d be less reasonable. And I know when I first arrived at Thornhill Hall you thought me nothing more than a charity mugger too big for her boots.’

  ‘Maybe at first.’ He grinned, feeling a slight heat on the back of his neck. ‘I soon realised my mistake.’

  ‘Good,’ she teased, and their eyes locked for a moment. John didn’t want to look away, fixed in the warmth of her gaze, but then she dropped her eyes to the ground. ‘Come on, let’s find the piggies.’

  John followed behind, his mind filling with worry. Looking into her eyes had done something to his heart. Something was happening to him and he had a sneaking suspicion he knew just what it was.

  ***

  Hetty kicked her shoes off and curled up on the sofa, a large glass of chilled white wine in her hand, and the TV remote ready to find something worth watching. She had the windows wide open, the net curtains fluttering in the breeze. The voices of people still frolicking on the beach carried gently while the birds sung loudly. As the sun set, illuminating her tiny living room, Hetty reflected on her day with John and the phone call from her mum that had followed half an hour after she got home.

  John Thornhill was an enigma. She didn’t know him at all and yet, there was an uncharacteristic easiness about him sometimes that came through when she least expected it. He wasn’t as stand-offish and uppity as everyone thought. Yes, he’d been like that at their first few meetings and sometimes it came out in conversation, but she felt it was more a defensive reaction. A way of shielding himself. Most of the time now she was seeing a different side to him. He was funny, intelligent and determined. She enjoyed his company. More than that, she looked forward to it and found herself wondering when she might see him next.

  Hetty had thought a lot about what Rupert and Lucinda Thornhill had gone through. She could only imagine what it must be like to have your investment fail, potentially taking your home and way of life with it. She’d been terrified when starting her own business, when profits were scarce and money short. If hers had failed, the prospect of selling her two-bedroom cottage and downgrading to a rented one-bedroom flat wouldn’t have been a happy one, but for the Thornhills, the thought of losing Thornhill Hall, a huge house that had been in their family for generations, must have been terrifying. No wonder Lucinda Thornhill didn’t relish the prospect of having gossipy, sometimes nasty townsfolk in her home, judging and laughing at her family’s misfortune.

  John also had the most fascinating eyes she’d ever seen. Maybe it was the darkness of his beard that made them stand out more, but they were like those mood rings she’d worn as a kid. They changed colour depending on how he was feeling. Sometimes more blue than green, like a clear summer sky, at other times more green than blue like a stormy sea. That first physical reaction to him hadn’t been a one-off. It had grown stronger each time she saw him to the point that, this morning, she found herself glancing over more than she should have as they drove to the country fair. Her pleasant memories of John and their time together, laughing a
nd joking, had all abruptly faded when her mum called.

  Daisy had been matter-of-fact, but nervous. Yesterday’s meeting with the solicitor had gone well and she had the information she needed but wanted some time to think about it all. She’d been tight-lipped about her reasons for thinking Jeff was having an affair and a terrible seed of doubt had planted in Hetty’s mind that maybe it wasn’t her dad who’d had an affair but her mum. She shook her head and cast the thought aside. Assumptions and made-up scenarios weren’t going to help anyone. It was best to deal with facts. And the fact was, whether her dad had had an affair or not, her mum wasn’t happy. For a while now, her dad hadn’t been that happy either. And if neither of them were, then maybe divorce was the best thing. She couldn’t quite believe it was though. Hetty’s stomach had churned all the time they’d been talking. She loved her mum and dad and it didn’t matter that she was a woman in her late thirties, she didn’t want her parents to get divorced. She wanted them to grow old together, well, older, and be as in love as they had been when she was growing up.

  A knock at the door rang out through the silence of the house and with a groan Hetty put her wine glass down and got up to answer it. Her legs ached from a day spent clamouring over turnstiles and around fields, driving here, there and everywhere. All she’d wanted this evening was to watch something mind-numbing, drink her wine and eat an easy one-pot dinner. She un-latched the door and pulled it open, feeling her tongue drop to the bottom of her mouth.

  ‘Ben. What are you doing here?’

  He hadn’t been at her house in over four months. Not since a very difficult conversation where she’d had to quite forcefully say that there was no going back for them. But crikey, he did look good. Since seeing him she couldn’t help but think about all they’d had together and all that might have been. His charisma was almost like an addiction and his funny, flirty personality always drew her in. Confusingly, she couldn’t tell if her feelings were real or just nostalgia, remnants of the past popping back up or emotions that had never really gone away in the first place.