Summer Strawberries at Swallowtail Bay

by Katie Ginger

  ‘Have you been cooking for yourself?’ She scooped up a vinegary chip and popped it into her mouth.

  ‘Not really. Mrs Hobbs from across the road has been dropping in food parcels every other day. She left me a sausage casserole yesterday and a peach cobbler.’

  ‘Was it nice?’

  ‘Not as nice as your mum’s,’ he replied glumly.

  Hetty gave her dad’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m sure Mum will be back soon, Dad. I’ll talk to her.’

  Jeff suddenly brightened. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you. That Marty Sutcliffe who has the breakfast show on the radio goes to the same golf club as me. He spoke to me about this food festival of yours. Asked about an interview.’

  ‘Did he?’ Hetty’s excitement lightened the mood considerably. It even brought a brightness to her dad’s eyes.

  ‘Yeah. He asked if John Thornhill might want a chat about it. I said I’d pass on his number to you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her excitement ebbed a little. She had hoped she might be interviewed. But publicity was publicity and the local radio station would be a great way to get word out about the festival. ‘I’m sure he’d be delighted.’ He wouldn’t, but she’d make him.

  ‘I’ll get it after dinner.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘These fish and chips are going down a treat.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You will talk to your mum, though, won’t you, Hetty?’ The bright sparkle that had flittered across his eyes a moment before had faded leaving them dark and gloomy.

  ‘I will, Dad.’ Hetty studied a chip and tried to stop her heart from breaking. It wouldn’t be a great conversation, but she couldn’t keep ignoring this problem, hoping it would go away or that her mum and dad would sort it out themselves. It seemed there’d been a complete communication breakdown. It was ridiculous that after all their years of marriage they’d got themselves in this situation. ‘I promise, I’ll speak to her on Saturday.’

  They finished dinner with her dad a little chattier than he had been when she first arrived. The house was tidy again and Hetty felt reassured he wasn’t going to waste away before her next visit. She had another reason to visit John too and the heart-warming effect that thought had on her was more than a little disconcerting.

  Chapter 13

  John shuffled in his seat and adjusted the headphones. It was incredibly hot in the small radio studio and the two desk fans plus the tall standing fan in the corner were doing nothing to help. All they did was blow the slightly sweaty-smelling warm air around.

  How had he allowed Hetty to talk him into this? In reality, he knew exactly how. She’d rung him up with all that calm self-assurance she was blessed with and talked incessantly about the publicity benefits until he’d caved. Of course, he’d pleaded that she do the interview instead, but apparently, they only wanted him, which in his eyes was both stupid and a missed opportunity. Hetty Colman was the poster child for strong businesswomen everywhere. Who better to speak about the food festival than the woman whose idea it had been and had the vision and work ethic to see it come to life?

  Glancing at her on the other side of the glass screen, he had an inkling that she was a bit miffed they were asking for him rather than her. She gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, but the smile didn’t shine in her eyes like it normally did. She really was extraordinarily pretty. She was standing, confidently holding a folder, and as she chatted to the producer, she pushed up her glasses. It was a small, unconscious action but one that made his chest tighten.

  John had told her he’d be happy not to do the interview, but she’d insisted it was too good an opportunity to miss even if they were choosing to speak to the oily rag rather than the engine grinder. John had laughed then and knowing her joking hid a deeper hurt, he’d thought about putting his arm around her, but couldn’t quite bring his muscles to work in case she batted him away. His feelings for her were becoming stronger and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle them.

  ‘All ready, Mr Thornhill? We’ll be on in two minutes. As soon as T’Pau have finished.’

  ‘I really think you should be talking to my …’ Friend? Colleague? Love interest? Wait, what? John told himself to calm down. He was clearly nervous about the interview. ‘I really think you should be talking to Hetty. This was all her idea and she’s actually the one who convinced me that—’

  ‘Hang on,’ he replied, shooting out a hand. ‘We can talk about all of this in a second.’

  Marty Sutcliffe, the radio presenter, who had slicked back hair and a weaselly face, pressed some buttons with one hand, while the other still hung in the air, palm facing John. John was very tempted to push it away. The way the man had dismissed Hetty as John’s assistant the moment they’d arrived in the studio had annoyed him greatly. Marty began to talk into the microphone in one of those late-night DJ voices.

  ‘Welcome back to Brekky with Marty. That was T’Pau with their classic tune, “China in Your Hand”. Now—’ Behind the microphone he clasped his hands together. ‘I’m sure you guys have heard all about the Swallowtail Bay Food Festival being held over the bank holiday weekend. Well, today, I’m really pleased to be joined by festival organiser, John Thornhill.’

  A horrible tingle shot up and down the length of John’s spine. He glanced at Hetty, whose forehead was creased as she frowned.

  ‘So, Mr Thornhill – John – or is it Lord Thornhill?’ Marty’s head was tipped to the side like the microphone was attached to his nose and would fall off if he moved back an inch.

  Oh, for the love of … ‘Just John,’ he said, trying to smile. Hetty had told him you could hear a smile in someone’s voice, and he was to smile no matter what. It was incredibly unnatural for John whose face always formed a frown, and he worried it would make him look like a nutter. Whatever the outcome for his face, he couldn’t look any crazier than Hetty who was currently reminding him what to do by smiling like a loon and pointing to her cheeks. It had the desired effect though as he swallowed down the laugh she’d brought on.

  ‘John, can you tell me why you decided to open up Thornhill Hall and host a food festival. What made you think of it?’

  ‘I can’t take any credit really. It’s all down to a local businesswoman called Hetty Colman. It was her idea and she who convinced me to host it. We’re very excited at Thornhill Hall to welcome everyone, it’s going to be a fabulous weekend with lots to see, taste and do.’ Hetty had told him to get that line in and he was glad he’d remembered to do it.

  As Marty nodded at him, John glanced at Hetty and she gave him another thumbs-up. Now her smile was genuine, and he could feel the warmth through the glass, like a warming sun through a window.

  ‘So,’ Marty continued, nose still pressed against the microphone. ‘Are you hosting the food festival because of the financial stress your father put you all under?’

  The question blindsided him, and John felt his hands clench. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I mean, it’s quite well known that your father, Robert—’

  ‘Rupert,’ John corrected. He couldn’t believe this man was going to publicly embarrass his father and he hadn’t even bothered to get his name right.

  ‘Yes, Rupert, sorry. It’s quite well known that your father isn’t exactly gifted with financial prowess.’ Marty seemed very pleased at the use of two grown-up words. ‘Is it true that this food festival is so you can make some money to save your home?’

  John bit down on the inside of his lip, forcing his mouth to stay closed. Every nerve in his body told him to get up out of his seat and walk out. To pull these headphones off and throw them at the smug-faced idiot. For a fleeting second, he wondered if Hetty knew he’d do this and had set him up, but he dismissed the thought immediately; that was just age-old paranoia forcing itself back in. No, he knew she would never do something like this to him. She was honest, upfront – genuine.

  When his eyes met hers, it was like a secret signal passed between them. He knew she was appalled too, but the look in her e
ye was pleading for him to keep it together, even though she glared at Marty Sutcliffe like she wanted to march into the studio and lump him in the chops. But she’d been right that this was a good publicity opportunity and he wouldn’t blow it for her by losing his temper. They both needed the food festival to succeed and he wouldn’t undo all her hard work now because of some idiot DJ who thought he could make a bit of a splash with his own lukewarm version of a hard-hitting interview.

  Taking a deep breath and unclenching his jaw before it cramped, John remembered to smile. ‘Swallowtail Bay Food Festival is a fabulous idea that’s going to benefit every trader and every resident. The bank holiday weekend always attracts additional tourists and we’re hopeful that with the amazing food stalls we’ve got, people will also enjoy the funfair, the movie night, and the local awards, and have an amazing weekend. There really is something for everyone and at Thornhill Hall, we couldn’t be happier to support this event. I really hope to see everyone there.’

  To Marty’s shock, John stood up and began removing his headphones. John was aware of a slight muffling of his microphone, but quite frankly couldn’t have cared less.

  ‘Right – umm – well, thank you, John Thornhill. It’s been a pleasure speaking to you this morning.’ Before he’d even finished the sentence, John closed the door softly behind him and led Hetty from the building.

  As they stood outside the radio station, a unit on a new industrial estate near Halebury, John watched Hetty pace back and forth. ‘I can’t believe what an idiot that man was. I mean, who did he think he was, Jeremy Paxman? Why did he think he could speak to you like that? It’s appalling. I’ve got half a mind to go back in there and complain.’

  John felt his short-cropped hair beneath his fingers then ran them down his beard. ‘Hetty, it’s fine. Just forget about it.’

  She stopped and looked at him. ‘But aren’t you annoyed?’

  He shrugged. ‘Yes, but it happens all the time. It still hurts but I’ve learned to ignore it.’ That wasn’t quite true, he did find it hard to ignore it and sometimes things really did get under his skin. He’d done well to not let it this time.

  ‘Does it really happen all the time?’

  ‘More than you’d think. Often when I take on new clients they like to mention it. They’ve got money to burn and it makes some of them feel better to remind me that I’ve got none and need their custom.’

  Hetty tilted her head to one side. ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘It is what it is.’

  Hetty angrily jabbed her finger around as she spoke, her cheeks growing pinker from the force of her response. ‘You do know that if I’d known he was going to do that I’d have said no to the interview.’

  ‘I know.’

  She stopped her pacing and looked up at him. The sun shone on her face, illuminating her creamy skin and he noticed for the first time a faint smudgy blue under her eyes. She’d tried to cover it, but she looked a little more tired today. It wasn’t any of his business, but it worried him. Something strange happened then that he couldn’t quite understand when he ran over the facts of it later. He took a half-step towards her, closing the space between them. He wasn’t close enough to kiss her, though he wanted to. But it was almost as if something was connecting them together, bonding them to each other in some way.

  ‘I’d better get going,’ Hetty said quickly. ‘I’ve got an anniversary party to run tonight and I need to get to the venue and set up.’

  He took a pace back, the spell broken. ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch if anything else comes up before the festival, but everything’s under control at the moment.’

  ‘I never doubted it for a second.’

  As they’d come in separate cars, Hetty waved goodbye and headed off to Myrtle. John watched her go, his heart heavy. He didn’t know when he was going to see her again and he didn’t like that uncertainty one bit.

  Chapter 14

  Shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun, Daisy squinted at the dress in the shop window. ‘What do you think to this one?’

  ‘It’s a bit short, Mum.’ The dress, an off-the-shoulder number, would have barely covered her thighs and though her mum still had a great figure, there was only so much Hetty wanted her showing off.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  Hetty hated clothes shopping but there hadn’t been anything on at the local theatre or the cinema that they wanted to see, so had settled on a trip to Halebury. It had a big shopping precinct and more bars and restaurants than you could possibly ever eat in, even if you lived there and ate out every night. Her loathing of clothes shopping didn’t come from the fact her curvy figure was considered plus-size, that didn’t bother her in the slightest. She knew perfectly well what suited her and what didn’t, and if she was one size in one shop and another size in another, that was the shops’ fault, not hers. She couldn’t have cared less if something came from a charity shop or a big-name designer. She liked what she liked and wore what she wore. The thing Hetty hated about clothes shopping was the endless traipsing around, going back and forth in the busy precinct, dodging people who were in a rush and getting too hot and sweaty to actually try anything on. She much preferred shopping online and trying things on in her bedroom. ‘Plus, it’s not exactly everyday wear is it? Are you shopping for something special?’

  ‘No, just seeing what’s about,’ Daisy answered. Hetty had hoped it might enable her mum to confess something, if she had anything to confess. Now she was sure her dad hadn’t had an affair it had raised the question of whether her mum was the one looking to get out of the marriage to start something new with someone else. ‘And I don’t suppose your dad would notice if I did wear it. I think I could walk downstairs completely naked in nothing but a smile and all he’d do is ask me to put the kettle on.’

  Hetty paused at the idea of her mum naked because her brain had conjured up an image she didn’t want to see. Realising she had stopped in the doorway, she moved out of the way and mumbled an apology to the family behind her.

  It had been two weeks since her mum had moved out. The idea that she’d sought the advice of a solicitor still sat heavily in Hetty’s heart and she hoped to learn more about where things stood today. ‘I went to see Dad the other day.’

  Daisy’s head shot up. ‘Did you?’ Hetty nodded. In a completely unconvincing way, her mum fiddled with some clothes and tried to act like she didn’t care. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Not great. He misses you. And he doesn’t understand what’s going on. He seems to be living on pork pies since you left—’

  ‘I didn’t want to leave, you know.’ Though Daisy spoke harshly it ignited a spark of hope for Hetty.

  ‘Pork pies and food deliveries from Mrs Hobbs.’

  ‘Mrs Hobbs?’ The outrage in her mum’s voice almost made Hetty laugh. ‘What sort of food deliveries?’

  ‘He said she delivered a sausage casserole the other day and a peach cobbler.’

  ‘Oh.’ Daisy’s shoulders tensed, pulling her straighter.

  ‘Dad said they weren’t as nice as yours.’

  ‘I should think not.’

  Hetty could tell her words had the desired effect because although her mum was pretending to examine a piece of clothing, there was no way she was actually looking at the tiny body suit in front of her. Especially as it had massive cut away sections that would put a nipple on display if you bent the wrong way.

  ‘Mum, why do you think Dad’s been having an affair? You said you had your reasons, but you haven’t actually told me what they are. Has he received weird text messages? Have you smelt another woman’s perfume? Found lipstick marks?’

  Daisy shuffled the clothes on the rail. ‘No. But over the last six months he’s been out all the time. He hardly stays in the house unless he’s in the garden talking to his plants. Honestly, he speaks to his buddleias more than he talks to me. And then there’s the so-called golfing.’

  ‘So-called?’

 
Her mum assessed another dress then almost broke the hanger as she hooked it back up in annoyance. She looked at Hetty, her face filled with hurt. ‘Or maybe when he says he’s out golfing he’s seeing someone else.’

  Hetty cocked her head to one side. ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Someone.’

  ‘So you have no actual proof and you don’t know who it might be?’ Hetty asked gently. She didn’t want to sound accusatory, but she needed to know what was driving her mum to such a severe course of action that was tearing her dad apart. ‘And your reason for thinking it is that he’s been out a lot?’ Her mum looked up and Hetty quickly said, ‘I’m not having a go, Mum. I just want to know what’s going on.’

  Daisy blinked slowly and took a deep breath. ‘He barely notices my existence anymore, love. For the first six months of retirement we were together all the time, visiting places, going for coffee, chatting and now – oh, never mind.’ She finished with a sigh. ‘I don’t want to talk about this now. How are things with you?’

  They stood together searching the sale rail, but Hetty couldn’t let it drop. ‘Please talk to Dad about it. You have to let him know how you feel and what you think because I don’t think he’s having an affair and I’m pretty sure the idea has never even occurred to him.’

  ‘I have tried to talk to him about ignoring me, but he never listens. He just asks if we can talk about it later because he’s watching Countryfile.’

  ‘Maybe don’t talk to him when Countryfile’s on?’ Hetty suggested helpfully.

  Daisy stopped her examination of a pair of boring beige trousers and narrowed her eyes. ‘It was just an example, Hetty.’

  ‘I know. But have you asked him if he’s been having an affair? I mean, that’s a pretty big deal, Mum. And I honestly don’t think he has. He loves you too much.’ Daisy stroked the fabric, gently pressing it between her fingers. ‘Mum?’