Summer Strawberries at Swallowtail Bay

by Katie Ginger

  Chapter 19

  John held the phone to his ear and pushed his other hand through his hair. ‘I don’t care what you say, Felix, we still need to look at other possible income streams whatever happens with your investment.’ John paced the study, taking long, angry strides but trying to stay calm. The room wasn’t really big enough for him to stomp about in in a temper because after four steps he had to turn around and go back again. He’d wanted to be there at the gate this morning, welcoming everyone onto the Thornhill estate, showing them what the family were really like and supporting Hetty. Instead he was having yet another row with his brother over money. As if they both didn’t know what the other would say next. John squeezed the bridge of his nose.

  ‘John, I know exactly what I’m doing,’ Felix reassured in his superior tone. It was the ‘you’re the little brother and don’t know anything’ tone John hated so much. ‘All you have to do is wait it out. I know that’s hard for you because it means you’re not one hundred per cent in control, but you’re just going to have to deal with it.’

  They were going around in circles again and John flopped into his comfortable leather chair and stared at the wall of books opposite. The door opened a crack and Jaz slipped in. Silently, she placed a mug of coffee down in front of John and took a seat opposite, taking her notepad from the edge of his desk and getting ready to work. ‘Look, Felix, if this investment comes off then great, that’ll put money behind us and pay off a lot of our debts, but if it doesn’t then we’ll be back to square one. Exactly where we are now. Actually, we’ll be worse off because at least we had a little money in the bank before. We need to start thinking how we can make some money with no capital because you’ve thrown the last of it away. Why waste time waiting to see what happens with your dodgy dealings when we can use the time to plan for the future, whatever the outcome. You’re a finance manager, Felix, even you can’t argue with that.’

  The line went quiet then his brother huffed. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Great.’ John’s anger subsided a little and he tried to turn the conversation to something more pleasant. ‘Are you coming over to the festival?’

  ‘I guess we’ll stop by. Elizabeth wants to come.’

  Of course Felix didn’t want to come because it was John and Hetty’s success. ‘Well if you do, let me know and I’ll come and meet you. There’s a great cheese maker I want to show you.’ His brother bid a curt goodbye and John tossed his phone onto the desk. ‘Jaz, please tell me I’m not as difficult to deal with as my brother?’

  ‘You have your moments.’

  He scowled. ‘You’re fired.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she replied with a grin.

  ‘You’re right, you’re not. But only because you type quicker than me.’ He was glad they were getting on better, and that so far today there’d been no tension in their relationship. Jaz ran the side of her hand over the clean sheet of paper in front of her.

  ‘John, I’m sorry I spoke out of turn yesterday. I shouldn’t have talked about it in front of Miss Colman.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he reassured her, eager not to start the day with this discussion.

  ‘It’s not. I let you down—’

  ‘Jaz.’ He got up and went to the other side of the desk to sit in front of her. ‘It’s fine.’ She smiled and as he stood to return to his seat, his leg accidentally brushed hers. He felt Jaz’s eyes on him and hoped she wasn’t going to read anything into it.

  ‘Right, let’s sort out Mr Crompton’s burning need to own a vintage typewriter and then I’m taking a walk around the festival. I was hoping to be there when the gates opened but because he’s as pig-headed as me, it took me a lot longer to convince him than I was hoping.’

  Jaz nodded to his cup of coffee. ‘I made you another coffee. Your first one had gone cold.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He took a sip and savoured the strong, rich flavour. Jaz always made it perfectly. She knew exactly how much coffee to put in and never made it too strong or too weak. John noticed her glancing at him as he drunk, seeking reassurance. He really had been a horrible boss to her lately. ‘Lovely,’ he said, placing it down. There was a gentle tap on the door and John could identify the visitor immediately. ‘Come in, Mother.’

  ‘Oh, hello, John.’ She seemed surprised to see him there which made him want to laugh.

  Lucinda was impeccably dressed in a pale-blue skirt with matching jacket and a cream silk blouse. John could tell she’d dressed extra formally today, worried that some random person might wander all the way from the lower field, up to the house. Should anyone turn up on the doorstep, she didn’t want to appear anything other than at her best. ‘Everything all right, Mother?’

  ‘Yes, John, but I wondered if you’d seen my book. I can’t seem to find it and I’m positive I left it in the parlour.’

  ‘Perhaps our ghost has moved it?’

  ‘Oh, John, don’t be silly.’

  ‘Have you checked the kitchen?’

  ‘Good idea. I’ll look there next.’ She went to leave, but lingered, holding the edge of the door. John knew exactly what was coming. His mother hadn’t lost her book and he didn’t believe in ghosts even though tales of the Thornhill spectre went back generations. ‘You haven’t seen anyone accidentally coming up to the house, have you? Or you, Jaz?’ As she said this, she pulled the top of her blouse closer together in a protective gesture. She really was becoming almost as skittish as his father. If it wasn’t for her daily walks around the fields and along the clifftops of Swallowtail Bay, she would probably have become agoraphobic.

  He took another sip of his coffee before answering. ‘It’s a long way from the fields up to the house, Mother. And I’m sure Hetty is making sure no one strays or gets lost.’ From the corner of his eye he spotted Jaz’s look of disdain. Lucinda gave a resigned nod.

  ‘It’s just that people can be quite nosey at times. And they might take the opportunity to sneak up to the house.’

  ‘Sneak?’ John repressed a laugh. He suddenly had an image of hordes of people hiding behind the topiary.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I do,’ he replied, reassuringly. ‘If it makes you feel better, I was going to take a walk down to the festival in a bit and I’ll speak to Hetty to make doubly sure.’ The relief on his mother’s face was palpable.

  ‘Oh, thank you, dear.’ Lucinda backed out of the room, a little flustered at his teasing. ‘Don’t work too hard and I hope he’s looking after you, Jaz.’

  ‘He is,’ she said, then fussed with her pen and notepad. Lucinda disappeared through the gap before closing the door softly behind her. Jaz studied the paper in her hand, tapping her pen against it. ‘Umm, John, I need to tell you something.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  She paused, glancing up from under eyelashes, then shooting her gaze back down to the paper. ‘Hetty was here this morning at half seven asking to speak to you.’

  ‘Sorry?’ John felt his annoyance mount. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She looked away to the corner of the room. ‘You were having breakfast and I—’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you come and get me? Jaz, this really isn’t on.’ Not only did John want to know why Jaz would lie, but he was also suddenly inquisitive as to why Hetty had been there. He remembered the knock at the door and Jaz coming back saying it was just a vendor who needed directing to the field. He was too cross to sit still and stood up and leant on the back of his chair.

  ‘I just thought you needed a break and a proper breakfast before it all kicked off today. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.’

  How could that have been the right thing? She’d lied to him. And again, a line had been crossed – an unspoken boundary broken. ‘But what if there’d been a problem? What if—’

  ‘I did ask, and she said there wasn’t, she wanted to talk to you about something else.’ Her pleading eyes followed him. ‘If there had been something wrong, I’d have got you straight away. It’s just that y
ou’re hardly eating at the moment and I really thought it was the best thing for you and your health. I’m – I’m sorry.’

  The atmosphere in the study became thick and tense. The walls of books felt like they were touching his nose and he had a sudden need to open the window, for the fresh air to blow away the pressure. This whole not trying to overreact thing was exhausting. Making an effort to relax his shoulders, he replied softly, ‘Thank you for your concern, Jaz. It means a lot.’

  Wrinkles released a little from her brow. He wished his brow was that wrinkle free. Deep lines of worry were being scored into his skin with every passing day. Sometimes he wished one way or another things would come to a head so his family could deal with it and move on. ‘Next time, please just come and get me if someone wants to speak to me. Okay?’

  She nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Jaz looked so downcast, he said, ‘Listen, why don’t you type up those letters and head off early today? Especially as you’re back here tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, go on. I want you out of here by one o’clock at the latest, okay?’

  ‘Okay, boss,’ she replied affectionately, the smile finally returning to her eyes.

  After Jaz left, John tried to work and focus on his own business, but before long he was itching to take a break from his desk and see what the festival was like now it was in full swing. In the distance he could hear the noise of the funfair, the chatter of a crowd and the hum of cars. He felt a fool for ever doubting Hetty that it would be a success. Strange, alluring creature that she was. It was definitely time to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.

  Outside he felt suddenly cleaner, and took great deep breaths as he left the damp and dusty air of the house behind. Leaving the formal gardens, John grew more and more excited as he drew nearer to the festival. Walking among the crowd, smiles and nods came his way. The cheerful greetings and compliments provided a strange sense of acceptance he’d never had before. Though he studied the crowd, he couldn’t see Hetty. He spotted her assistant, Macie, virtually running past him, and he quickly grabbed her attention. ‘Hi, excuse me. Macie, isn’t it?’ She stopped and turned to him with a big grin on her face, clearly enjoying the hubbub, but she was also holding a screwdriver and hammer tightly to her chest like it was made of gold. ‘Have you seen Hetty anywhere?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s at the Portaloos dealing with an … issue.’

  ‘Should I ask?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not what you think. Someone’s got stuck in one of the cubicles.’

  ‘Really?’ From the state of some of the Portaloos he’d had to use, he knew how awful that could be. ‘That sounds terrible.’

  ‘Is everything okay? Do you need me to give her a message?’

  ‘No. I’ll come along if that’s okay? Just in case I can help.’

  As they approached, he saw Hetty speaking calmly to the Portaloo door. A small crowd were already beginning to linger. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Martin, don’t panic. I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy. I know you’re upset but you need to take long, deep breaths.’ She paused, looking disgusted. ‘Well, in that case don’t take really deep breaths, take medium-sized ones – through your mouth. I know, Mrs Martin, and I’m very sorry it smells like that but there’s not much I can do about it right now except get you out, which is what I’m trying to do.’ She turned and her face relaxed with relief. ‘My assistant’s just coming with a screwdriver and hammer. You’ll be out soon, I promise. Remember to breathe, Mrs Martin. Okay?’

  They stopped by Hetty’s side and Macie handed over the screwdriver. Mrs Martin’s voice carried through the door and Macie’s jaw dropped open. ‘Did she just call you a—’

  ‘Yes, I think she did,’ Hetty replied cheerfully. If John had been in that situation he’d have been sweating, stressed and probably shouting at Mrs Martin, but Hetty was smiling, almost giggling. ‘Hello, John. How are you this morning?’

  ‘Fine,’ he answered with a laugh. ‘You?’

  ‘Good,’ she said and nodded towards the door. ‘Just a minor hiccup.’ A voice from the other side was mumbling something rude.

  ‘Can I help at all?’ He could see she had it all in hand but felt he should offer anyway.

  ‘If you could hold the door on this side, that’d be great. Mrs Martin’s got herself locked in and even though I’ve tried, I can’t get the door to unlock from the outside. The hire company’s not answering either so I can’t get hold of a master key. Mrs Martin says the mechanism’s stuck so I’m going to have to take the door off its hinges.’

  ‘That’s very clever of you. Ingenious, in fact.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Done much breaking and entering before?’

  Hetty glanced over her shoulder, grinning. ‘Only at weekends.’ She placed the screwdriver against the pin in the top hinge and, using the hammer, knocked it downwards. After a couple of whacks on the pin it shot out so the first hinge hung away from the doorframe. She then did the same to the bottom one and within a few minutes the door was off both hinges, ready to be removed. John was just about to take it away when Hetty gently placed her hand there, holding it in place. ‘Are you decent, Mrs Martin?’

  ‘Of course I’m decent,’ a crotchety old voice replied. ‘I’ve been decent for half an hour since I got locked in this blimmin’ box of hell. This is why I don’t use Portaloos. Especially not for a shi—’

  ‘Right then, Mrs Martin, we’ll open the door now, okay? Ready, John?’ He nodded and together they removed the door. Mrs Martin emerged, a little unsteady and slightly green around the gills, but apart from that, completely unharmed. Hetty stood up. ‘There we go then. You all right, Mrs Martin?’

  Having regained her composure under the gaze of the assembled crowd, the older woman adjusted her waistband and lifted her head high. ‘Fine, thank you, Miss Colman. Though you might want to get someone to check that lock.’

  Without missing a beat, Hetty nodded. ‘Will do. Now you go and have a lovely day.’ The lady toddled off, head held high, and the crowd dispersed, sniggering and mumbling as they went. ‘John, could you hold the door so I can get this all back together?’

  He did as he was told, amazed at her skill and at her temperament. How did someone stay so calm under such pressure? ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make it for when the gates opened. I was hoping to, but my brother called and – well, it took quite a long time to get rid of him.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ Hetty replied, banging the top pin back into the hinge. ‘I think you’d have enjoyed seeing everyone so excited though.’ She did the same to the bottom hinge and stood up. ‘People seem to be really enjoying themselves.’

  ‘Apart from Mrs Martin.’

  Hetty examined the lock which was quite hard to move but with force she eventually slid it over. ‘It is a bit sticky. Macie, could you run and grab the oil from the emergency box and I’ll lube it up.’ John felt himself grow hot and felt silly for being so prudish.

  ‘Already got it,’ she replied, picking something up from the floor. John hadn’t even seen it in her arms. Hetty was obviously training her well.

  ‘You’re a star,’ Hetty said affectionately, spraying the oil onto the lock and trying it again. ‘Right. Good as new, but let’s get one of the stewards over here to keep an eye on things for an hour. What’s next?’

  Macie checked her phone where she was obviously keeping notes. ‘Ants were attacking Mr Hobbs’ jam stall so I swapped him with the soap lady next door. They’re fine but you might want to go and have a word with Hobbs. He was a tad stroppy and got in a bit of a flap.’

  ‘Okay.’ Hetty wiped her hand over her forehead. The sun was beating down and there was a pinkness to her cheeks from the exertion. She adjusted her glasses and smiled at him.

  John’s heart pumped harder and faster as he realised he was definitely falling for this incredible woman. He’d never felt anything as strong as this before and it was unnerving. He felt so alive in her company but w
ith everything going on, should he ignore these feelings? On this crazy summer’s day he felt carefree and his heart was saying to try, but there was a weight at the back of his mind. A weight of uncertainty caused by his family’s fortunes – dragging her into that might drag her down with him.

  ‘Coming with us?’ she asked John, and he found himself nodding.

  Mr Hobbs waved his tea towel over his stall packed full of different types of jam, but there didn’t seem to be an ant in sight. The soap lady kept glancing sideways and tutting then rearranging her display. ‘I can’t see any ants here, you know,’ she said. ‘I think he was making a big fuss about nothing. Probably because he wanted the corner pitch.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case,’ said Hetty, completely unfazed. ‘Is it, Mr Hobbs?’ She began to examine the ground for ants, but she couldn’t see any now. Either they’d decided soap wasn’t really for them and had hidden themselves back underground, or there weren’t quite as many as Mr Hobbs had been making out.

  ‘Of course not,’ the older man blustered, still waving his tea towel around. ‘Look.’ Mr Hobbs picked up a jar of strawberry jam and showed them the ant stuck to the bottom. ‘This is my special strawberry jam, made with Swallowtail Bay strawberries. I can’t sell this now. No one wants jam with dead ants stuck to it.’

  This was an indisputable fact that no one could argue with. ‘No,’ said Hetty. ‘That’s very true, but at least it’s only one jar.’

  John leaned in. ‘But, Mr Hobbs, you could wipe it off and give it to the soap lady to say thank you for swapping pitches. I’m sure she’d like that, and you seem a very kind and generous man to me.’ As John straightened up Mr Hobbs considered his suggestion and winked.

  ‘Good idea.’

  Hetty, John and Macie watched on as Mr Hobbs wiped the bottom of the jar with the tea towel and approached the soap lady. ‘Here,’ he said, turning slightly pinker. ‘As a thank-you.’