by Katie Ginger
‘Right you are.’ With a wink he began to move off. ‘See you later, alligator. Oh, and don’t be mad at Macie. I only called the other day and swore her to secrecy.’
When he’d gone, Hetty turned to Macie whose eyes were again glued upwards. ‘Macie,’ she said, calmly.
‘That cloud looks like a turtle having a poo.’
‘Macie!’ She dropped her eyes to Hetty’s face, her cheeks burning such a furious shade of pink Hetty couldn’t quite bring herself to tell her off. ‘You do realise we’re surrounded by fields and I could easily murder you and bury you somewhere and no one would ever find you?’
Macie nodded. ‘Yes, but then you’d be down one awesome amazing assistant who loves you hugely and—’
‘You should have told me.’
‘I know.’ She bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry. It was just that, you said about his kissing you and then there was the whole ring thing, and you were kind of glad he wasn’t coming and then you kind of weren’t. And then you said you didn’t know how you felt about him anymore. And then you said you were going to stay away from him and see if your feelings faded after the festival. And then he turned up finally talking about commitment and rings and you had a complete wobble. And then you said you might be still a bit in love with him and that you didn’t know what to do. And then—’
‘All right. All right,’ Hetty conceded, her hands held up in surrender. She probably had put Macie in a difficult position. Ben had clearly done so as well by going to her for a pitch instead of asking Hetty directly. There was also the worry of having Ben and John near each other when Ben was proving a bit weird and antagonistic about the lord of the manor, but thankfully, Macie hadn’t listed that one.
‘I just thought if I kept it quiet, you wouldn’t worry about him being here on top of everything else. You wouldn’t have stopped him coming anyway. You’d have just been worrying about things you couldn’t change.’
Hetty smiled. Macie was quite right, she wouldn’t have stopped him coming, they both knew what a draw it would be. And If she had known in advance, she’d only have worried about how to be around him and what to say. At least Macie had saved her all that. Hetty’s shoulders relaxed down a little. ‘So which cloud looks like a turtle having a poo?’
Macie giggled and pointed up. ‘That one. Look.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Hetty glanced over at Ben setting up. There were still a lot of vendors left to turn up leaving wide empty gaps. What would happen if they didn’t show? All her capital had been sunk into this now, there was nothing left to draw on. This had to work or her business would effectively be starting again from scratch. Hetty inspected the turtle cloud and took a deep breath. ‘Come on, let’s see how everyone’s settling in.’ She put her arm around her assistant’s shoulder. ‘Do you think that local vineyard has unpacked yet?’
Chapter 17
Gravel scrunched underfoot as John paced around outside the house. As soon as he got back to the study, he’d called the bank who confirmed the majority of the family funds had been transferred to an investment company. John also asked if they’d considered his loan application yet, but they just mumbled something about it being a different department and lots to consider and that these things can take time. There was a little money left which would cover one more month’s re-mortgage payment, as long as they didn’t need it for anything else. They really needed to fix the roof before any more rain, but that would have to wait. He’d then called the investment company who said the money had been invested according to Felix’s wishes. It was all tied up. Gone.
With a heavy heart, John thanked the customer service agent for his help and hung up. So that was it, there wasn’t anything he could do. They’d already re-mortgaged so they couldn’t do that again. For the bank it would be like throwing money into a black hole. He just had to hope the loan was approved and that he could convince the family to open the house to public. The loan would cover the changes to get it all health and safety approved, then by opening to the public they’d at least have some income.
How could Felix do this to them? A surge of bitterness threatened to wrap around John. Felix wasn’t here all the time. He didn’t see the effect on their mother and father the same way John did. Felix was still angry at their father too. John knew from the way he hadn’t bothered asking Rupert what he thought of the investment. Could he not see the physical changes in their father? But Felix had his own life and his own house. He wasn’t going to lose everything if this investment failed. He hadn’t been the one bailing out the family with his own money the same way John had.
John glanced back at the house to see Jaz in the window, the phone pressed to her ear. She’d been dealing with the majority of his work this morning while he’d been trying to figure out what to do next. The only light in the dark was that the food festival was shaping up to be a huge success.
The charismatic Hetty had things running like clockwork already. He’d expected some phone calls from her with last-minute problems, maybe her needing to change the site plan, or use another field because she’d miscalculated the space required. But there’d been nothing and he’d felt more than a little disappointed. He’d have welcomed the distraction of heading down there and the solace of seeing her again. His stomach gave a loud gurgle and John realised it was almost two o’clock and he was starving. As he’d promised her lunch, Jaz must have been hungry too.
Wandering down, he thought he’d take a break and see who some of the vendors were. As he got closer, he could see the west field had a sign in it saying parking, and in the lower field, stall holders were beginning to set up, laying out tables and equipment. Seeing everything they unpacked, he realised Hetty had been right to organise security. Which reminded him, he still needed to tell his family. That would really top off his mother’s day. He hopped over a stile into the middle field; all the others had been removed to make walkways. Some techies were beginning to install the big screen ready for Saturday night’s film, and Hetty was standing near them, watching on. She had a clipboard in her hand, and a piece of paper sticking out of her back pocket that emphasised the curve of her lower body. Someone came over to ask her a question and with a smile and a laugh she responded. It was a smile that lifted her full cheeks and plump lips. As soon as they were gone, she grabbed her phone and was head down, busily typing.
John considered staying away and letting her work while he strolled around the site, but he found himself wanting to talk to her. He enjoyed her company and was genuinely interested in the running of the festival. After Felix’s news this morning, he needed it to be a success more than ever. With no money left in the bank, his whole family – though they didn’t appreciate it – needed each and every stall holder to make a killing.
If he was honest, he also wanted to hear her voice, her laugh, and see that smile up close. John ambled over in Hetty’s direction. He’d appreciated her sympathy earlier, though he was still a little cross with Jaz for forgetting herself and talking of family affairs in front of strangers. She knew how the town liked to gossip about them and should have been more discreet. Hetty wasn’t the gossiping type and her concern for him had been touching, but still, he couldn’t be too careful. ‘How’s it all shaping up?’ he asked.
She looked up from her phone. ‘Pretty good, actually. The Portaloos are all in place.’ She glanced in their direction. ‘I hope we’ve got enough. A lot of the food vendors have arrived, but I know some aren’t coming till tomorrow morning, so I’ll be here at the crack of dawn to sort them out.’
‘I get the feeling that was going to happen anyway.’
Hetty tipped her head back a little and laughed. ‘Yeah, it probably was, to be fair.’
Her laughter acted as a soothing balm to the troubles of the morning. ‘I don’t suppose anyone has any food to share?’ he asked, looking around.
‘I think there’s one or two who might. I might grab something too, actually. I’m starving. I only had a breakfast bar this morning, I was so
excited.’
‘I normally just have coffee.’
She put her phone back into her pocket. ‘Let me see if I remember. Black, no sugar?’
‘Because I’m boring?’ He really hoped that wasn’t her impression of him.
‘Hey, you said it, not me.’
‘I like to think of it as strong and already sweet enough.’ Was this flirting? He hadn’t done that in a long time – a long, long time, it felt like. And yet, it felt so easy with her. ‘Why don’t you join me? We can sit and stare at the blank film screen. Pretend it’s showing something good. Actually, what are we showing?’
‘The Goonies.’
A big wide grin took hold. ‘I love that film.’
‘Me too,’ Hetty agreed. ‘Come on then, let’s see who’s got some grub.’
They strolled around the stalls, Hetty chatting happily and easily to the vendors. John marvelled at the variety. There was everything from Indian street food to charcuterie, fabulous freshly made pizza to locally made pies. Though no one had started cooking yet, his mouth was already watering. And everyone seemed happy to see Hetty. But sideways glances came his way and he tried to ignore them. His hackles were rising again, the morning news making him more than a little defensive, as if everyone already knew. Though, of course, that was impossible. He made a concerted effort to stay relaxed. This was exactly the reason his mother didn’t want to open the house to the public, and right now he agreed with her.
‘Don’t mind them,’ Hetty said, when they were once more on their own. ‘It’s very rare to see the lesser-spotted lord of the manner actually in the wild.’
An involuntary deep and throaty laugh escaped him. ‘I suppose it is. It’s my fault really. I should actually speak to people when I go into town more. I like Swallowtail Bay. I just don’t seem to have the time. When I was little, Mother used to take Felix and I to the rockpools and we’d be there all day, searching for crabs and shells.’
‘That’s sweet. My mum and dad used to bring me down too. To think we could have run past each other as children. But I’m sure being a judge tomorrow will help you get to know everyone.’
John noticed they were strolling along perfectly in time with each other. ‘I’m looking forward to it. How will it work?’
‘Macie will provide you with a list of all the entries in each category so you can write down your choice. Then I’ll check the answers and do the envelopes.’
‘And if there’s a tie? Or you need a deciding vote?’
‘Then I’ll call in a third party. Possibly Macie. Does that sound dodgy?’
‘No, not at all,’ he chuckled.
They were just passing the local artisan cheese maker who was delving about in the back of his van.
‘Hi, Clive,’ Hetty said. ‘How’re things going? Got enough room?’
Clive paused from his task, opening boxes and pulling out baskets of homemade crackers in little cellophane bags, each one tied with a cute ribbon and a tag. He edged out of the back of his van, his wide rear shuffling from side to side. ‘’Ello, ’Etty. Yeah, I’m all good. You?’
‘Yep,’ she replied with the brightest grin John had ever seen. ‘All good so far.’
‘How are your mum and dad?’
A slight cloud passed over her eyes and John wondered what that shadow was. ‘Oh, they’re fine,’ she answered. ‘Those look lovely.’
Clive straightened up, placing one of the baskets full of crackers on his display table. ‘All homemade too. These are black pepper, and these are rosemary and thyme. Go lovely with some of my local blue.’
‘Sounds delicious,’ John said, his stomach grumbling in response. But rather than enjoying the compliment, Clive eyed him warily.
‘Not like the Thornhills to let us do something like this. We thought you preferred not to have us commoners on your land. Your father never did.’
From the corner of his eye he saw Hetty’s head move before she glared at Clive. Poor old boy, thought John. Though John wasn’t happy at the mention of his father, Clive was right, and he smiled. ‘Well, no one’s come up with such a good idea before. I was more than happy to help.’ Even though he’d said the same thing at the radio interview, Hetty had obviously expected him to snap a harsh retort. She couldn’t have looked more surprised if he’d told the old man he liked to dress in women’s underwear every Thursday night. Clive’s expression hadn’t changed except for a tightening at his eyes. The old man went back to shuffling about in his van. Assuming the conversation was finished, they were about to move on when he came out again.
‘Here,’ he said, handing over a small white box. He then grabbed one of the packs of biscuits, checking the label before placing it on top. John took it, thanking him. ‘It’s just a few little samples, nothing much. I just thought you might like them.’ And with that he disappeared back into his van, his back well and truly turned.
John turned to Hetty, knitting his brows together. Had one of the town’s people been nice to him? Hetty was repressing a smile but as they walked on, it spread over her face and a sweet, musical laugh came out.
‘You look like someone just handed you a grenade.’
John laughed too and as his stomach muscles jiggled with the force of it. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders and some of the morning’s pressure shifted. As he’d expected, being with Hetty was calming the sea of troubles. ‘Could he have hidden one in the cheese?’ John held his ear near the box. ‘I think we’re safe.’
Watching Hetty laugh by his side, his heart did a weird squeezing thing. He couldn’t remember the last time it had done that from something other than anxiety. ‘If you’re not too busy, did you want to join me?’ He nodded towards the box. ‘I’m sure there’s enough for two.’
‘I’d love to,’ she replied, and her bright, wide smile warmed his heart.
They made their way back towards the giant film screen and sat on a stubby patch of grass. If he sat up straight, he could see the sea on the horizon, a long line of dusky blueish-grey. John opened the box to reveal a couple of small cheeses. One was the blue Clive had talked about, the other was a soft Brie-type cheese. In between them were a handful of tomatoes still on the vine. It smelt delicious. Hetty sat and curled her legs underneath her. There really was something enticing about the way she moved her body, the curve of her hips and the confidence with which she stared around, observing the world.
‘I think we’re going to have to use our hands, there’s no cutlery I’m afraid. Unless you’ve got some?’
‘I might have some in my emergency box,’ Hetty said. ‘But that’s back at base camp.’
‘Base camp?’
She nodded, her face deadly serious. ‘Mine and Macie’s HQ. And don’t even start teasing me about my emergency box.’
He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Even though I am curious to know what’s in it.’
Hetty narrowed her eyes. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you just in case someone comes to you in an emergency. There are plasters, headache tablets, bandages—’
‘Bandages?’
‘Trust me, bandages are definitely needed. There are about a million pens. Teabags. And lots of chocolate.’
‘But no cutlery?’
‘Not unless there’s some in there from last time. But I don’t mind fingers if you don’t? Picnics shouldn’t be eaten with cutlery.’
They sat in the sunshine, eating on the grass as a sea of action bustled around them. Occasionally, Hetty would place some of the cheese in her mouth then let her head fall back, savouring the taste. John watched her, careful to look away when she lifted her head back up. The atmosphere around them was heady from the heat of the sun and the smell of recently cut grass. John’s heart gave the same heavy pump it had before. After a few mouthfuls, Hetty spoke.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’ He stuck on a smile, but from experience, questions like this were never good and that made him reticent.
‘You seemed surprised when
Clive gave you the cheese box. Why? Why do you think everybody hates you and your family?’
John uncrossed his legs and straightened them out, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun. He didn’t want to be defensive with Hetty, not like he was with everyone else. ‘Hate’s a strong word. I don’t think the town hates us and we certainly don’t hate them. It’s just that …’ He ran a hand through his hair and then down over his beard. ‘No one likes being the centre of gossip. Do you know my mother used to go into town every Wednesday – to the farmers’ market – but after everything went wrong for us, she stopped going. She’d come back almost in tears at the whispers and murmurs muttered behind her back.’
‘That’s horrible,’ Hetty replied. Her expressive face mirrored exactly the pain he felt for his mother when he remembered some of the states she’d come home in.
‘People would talk about us like our life was an episode of EastEnders. It always seemed to us that, if we lived in town, in a normal terraced house, we’d get sympathy rather than snide comments that we deserved it.’
‘You’re quite right,’ she said, and John was thrown by her admission. Before he’d been met with arguments if he made such a point.
‘Running a house like this’ – he motioned back towards his large, undeniably beautiful but costly home – ‘is pretty hard. We don’t have any money, everything needs fixing, it’s cold and damp, and bits of the roof are falling off or in. People think we should be happy and consider ourselves lucky. We are in a lot of ways, I know that, but—’
‘But happiness and luck don’t pay for roof repairs.’
Strands of Hetty’s short blonde hair lifted a little in the gentle breeze and appeared almost silver in the sunlight. She adjusted her glasses and John had a sudden urge to take her hand and wrap his fingers around it, to feel her soft skin as they touched. His throat tightened with a longing to kiss her, but with everything that had happened this morning, how could he? Knowing he had to look away before the feeling really took hold he stared at the remnants of cheese in the box.
