Summer Strawberries at Swallowtail Bay

by Katie Ginger

  ‘Ben, can you just leave the mardiness for now, please? We really have to go, and time is of the essence.’ She began to jog away.

  ‘Oh, bye then,’ he said sarcastically. As she glanced back, he was watching her go looking like a sulky child, his lower lip sticking out as he made his way back into the tent.

  With Ben drunk and wolf-whistling passing women, talking about munters and hotties, Hetty realised he was no more grown-up now than he had been when they were together. In fact, he might have regressed. He acted before thinking things through, he made snap decisions and just rolled with the consequences. He teased everyone like life was one big joke. The thought that he was now mature and ready to commit was laughable. A giant wave of disappointment hit Hetty but was soon replaced by relief. She couldn’t help but feel she’d had a lucky escape realising this now, before she’d accepted his proposal.

  Hetty sped up as the fair came into sight, conscious of the few minutes they’d lost in that little exchange.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked John, matching her racing stride.

  ‘Fine. I just want to find this kid.’ Fear over the little girl mounted in her stomach once more, and another image of her scared and crying flew into her brain.

  The noises and lights of the funfair surrounded them. The smell of the candyfloss turned her stomach. Beeps and whistles from the rides mixed with the cheers and happy screams of the children. Though both she and John peered around, they couldn’t see the little girl anywhere in the crowds.

  They moved around the different rides, checking the queues at the fun house. John even quickly walked through but she wasn’t there. There were so many blonde-haired little girls around. At one point, Hetty thought she saw her, but the crying little girl was running towards her parents having fallen over and was wearing leggings and a top, not a pink dress.

  They stared at the dodgems and the flying saucer but no one matching Melanie’s description could be found. Everywhere the sounds of laughter and music left Hetty feeling isolated and trapped in this moment of fear. They checked the helter-skelter, Hetty this time climbing up to see if she was inside. When she wasn’t, the fastest way back down through the queue was to ride it, and she whizzed down to the whoops of waiting children and the confused looks of adults.

  Hetty felt cold inside and out and shuddered. If they didn’t locate Melanie in the next ten minutes, they would have to call the police. She called Macie, happy to get through first time. ‘Any luck?’ Hetty prayed silently.

  ‘No. Nothing. We’ve checked everywhere. We’ll go around again, but I don’t think she’s here. The parents are getting really worried now.’

  ‘Tell them we’ll finish the search here and if we can’t find her, we’ll call the police.’ The ball in her throat grew larger. It would mean the end of the festival, the end of her reputation and possibly the end of her business, but the little girl was more important than any of that. Hetty shoved her phone in her pocket and looked around to see what rides they hadn’t checked yet. ‘The carousel,’ she shouted, in a moment of realisation. ‘All little girls love horses, don’t they?’

  ‘They do,’ John said reassuringly and Hetty felt certain she’d be there. As they began to jog over, John hesitated then asked, ‘Did you want a pony when you were little?’ He was trying to distract her from her worries, and she wanted to respond, but the air felt heavy in her lungs, making it hard to breath. ‘Did you?’ John asked again, softly. He laid a hand on her shoulder and Hetty suddenly wanted to grab it and wrap her fingers in his.

  ‘Yes, yes I did.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll find her soon, Hetty,’ he said again after a moment of silence. She really wanted to believe him.

  They walked around and around the carousel, climbing on and moving between the horses, each one so beautifully painted. Every rider gripped on like the horses were real and smiled at proud parents watching.

  ‘What do we do, John? We’ve looked everywhere a little girl might go, checked every ride she’d be allowed on.’ Hetty stared around trying desperately to think but all she could imagine was the mother crying with worry and the terrified little girl crying with fear. It wasn’t helpful. All it was doing was clogging up her brain and stopping it from working in a logical, detached fashion. But there wasn’t anywhere in the funfair they hadn’t checked.

  John had been staring around but his gaze lingered. ‘What about the rides she’s not allowed on?’ Hetty turned to him. ‘Like you said, we’ve checked all the rides she would be allowed on, what about the ones she wouldn’t?’

  ‘But that doesn’t make sense, she wouldn’t get on them. The attendants would stop her.’

  ‘That’s if they’re paying attention.’

  Hetty thought back to the unscrupulous coconut shy guy and the hook-a-duck, and instantly saw John’s point. ‘Okay, so what rides would normally be out of bounds?’

  ‘There’s not many. You made sure pretty much all of them were family friendly. The only one that I wouldn’t let a kid on is the ghost train, if I thought it might be too much.’ He turned to it. ‘The attendant’s paying about as much attention as I do when Mother’s talking about cross-stitch.’

  Hetty managed a small smile but internally she was praying like mad that the little girl was there. A mother and daughter strolled past, the little girl pulling to be allowed on and the mum shaking her head. All kids loved the thought of being scared until it actually happened. John was right. From a distance she could see the attendant was letting anyone on whatever their age. She felt her temper begin to flare under the pressure and stormed over to him.

  ‘Right, sunshine, I need to get on this ride. It’s an emergency.’

  ‘Sorry, love,’ the spotty youth replied. ‘You’ll have to wait your turn. I’ve got a queue here.’ The high-pitched cackle of a witch chilled Hetty to the core. The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking smug. Fed up with patronising men and about to lose her temper, Hetty grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to one side.

  ‘Listen to me, you little oik!’ She calmed her rising voice. ‘I’m the festival organiser and I’m looking for a missing little girl. Pink dress, pink shoes, blonde hair. Are you sure she hasn’t got on this ride? Because if I get on and I find her I’m going to report you for not doing your job properly.’

  ‘Well I—’ He realised he was in it up to his neck. ‘Oh, all right, you can take the next cab.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said John, stepping nearer so he could whisper. ‘We need to get on and look around, not ride it. How do we do that?’

  ‘There’s a door at the back,’ the guy said, looking more and more nervous. ‘Here.’ He led them to the back of the ride which was also painted with ghosts and ghouls. He unlocked the small door and John climbed in first, ducking his head to fit through. It was so dark Hetty stumbled, falling into him. He reached out a hand and steadied her. She pulled out her phone and put the torch on as John did the same.

  Everything was dusty and dark, and it felt eerie being inside the machine, behind the scenery. She could hear the screams of the riders, the booing of ghosts and that same cackle of the witch they’d heard outside. The whirring of cogs and grinding machinery surrounded her and she could smell oil and grease. They wound their way through, following the track. People screamed again as in front of Hetty and John, through the gaps in the scenery, they could see skeletons and werewolves jumping out on them.

  In the dark, Hetty walked through a fake cobweb that sent her heart rate skywards. She wiped it off her face. John reached out his hand to guide her and Hetty took it, feeling a wave of calm as their skin touched. She shone her phone around, and the strong beam of light made her feel like she was in a bad horror movie. They entered a graveyard and one of the tombstones flew upwards, making the lady in front of it scream and then laugh.

  Hetty moved past John, sure she had seen something and slowly moving her torch again. Over the other side of the track behind one of the tombstones she
saw a frilly sleeve of a little girl’s dress. Hetty jumped over the track once the cabs had gone past and as she drew nearer, she saw her. The girl was hunkered down, her knees drawn up to her chest, her head bowed. A mass of blonde hair fell forward and her tiny toes were scrunched tight in her pink sandals, her whole body tense. The girl’s shoulders juddered from her sobs and Hetty nearly dropped her phone in relief.

  ‘Melanie?’ she shouted over the noise and the little girl’s head popped up. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes wide with fear. Hetty crouched down in front of her. She felt John’s strong hand on her shoulder as he bent down too. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll get you out of here.’ The little girl sniffed and Hetty took her hands from where they were wrapped around her knees. She felt lightheaded as she stood up, able to breathe again. Melanie’s face was wet and snotty, and her legs wobbled, unable to take her weight. As Hetty tried to lead her away, she stumbled. ‘Is it okay if I carry you?’ Hetty asked and Melanie nodded. As Hetty hoisted the little girl up she felt John’s hand in the small of her back, helping to keep her steady.

  Together, they made their way back outside and in the fresh air Hetty looked at John. His expression matched hers and he let out a long deep breath. Hetty carried Melanie all the way back to the main field, to her parents. As soon as Melanie caught sight of her mum and dad, she wriggled out of Hetty’s arms and ran towards them. The mum engulfed her in a tight embrace and her tears fell onto the mop of wheat-coloured hair. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ Hetty replied. John moved away to make a call, presumably to Jaz to stop the search. ‘She was in the ghost train.’

  ‘In the ghost train?’

  Hetty nodded. ‘Behind a tombstone.’

  The mum studied her daughter. ‘What were you doing there? I told you that ride was too scary for you. You hate things like that. You don’t even like Halloween.’

  The little girl sobbed, her words coming out in sharp exclamations. ‘I thought it would be fun.’

  ‘It wasn’t though, was it?’ the mum said, and Melanie shook her head emphatically before bursting into tears again. ‘Perhaps you’ll listen to me next time.’

  Grateful and relieved, the family went off and a few minutes later, Jaz and Macie were at Hetty’s side. Hetty felt giddy from the rush of adrenalin but tired and exhausted as the tension flew from her body. When she saw the hay bale, her body gave way and she flopped down on it, lifting her head to the sky. John explained what had happened and where they’d found the girl.

  ‘Wow,’ said Macie. ‘You two really do make a good team.’ Hetty was suddenly jolted back into the same world as everyone else, able to enjoy the laughter and chatter of the crowd. Macie bent double, regaining her breath. ‘Before we do another one of these festivals we’re going to have to get in better shape. This one’s involved a lot more cardio than I’d expected.’

  Hetty giggled and John’s laughter filled her ears until her phone rang. It was her mum. ‘Hello, dear. I’m at the car park. Where should I go?’

  ‘Umm, I’ll come and get you, Mum. Just hang on where you are.’

  ‘Are they here?’ asked Macie as Hetty hung up.

  ‘Mum’s here. Early as usual.’ Hetty threw her hands in the air. ‘What else can go wrong today?’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Hetty pushed her hand against her forehead, her other wedged on her hip. ‘Can you delay Mum somehow? Show her around the festival or something?’

  ‘Of course,’ Macie said. ‘No problem. I like having a natter with your mum.’

  ‘Why don’t I do the same for your dad when he arrives?’ offered John. ‘I can tell him all about the house and grounds and stuff and bring him to the secret garden separately to make sure your mum and dad don’t see each other.’

  ‘Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘I could bore people for England.’

  ‘You’re not boring,’ she replied, and there was a fire in his eyes that filled Hetty with excitement. ‘Can you both give me twenty minutes to get everything perfect?’

  ‘I can help too,’ added Jaz, much to Hetty’s surprise. ‘I know where everything is in the house so I can grab anything else you need.’

  John gave Jaz a wink and turned to Macie. ‘Right, you go and get Mum, I’ll hang around for Dad. I’m sure Richard III stayed in our house once.’

  ‘Really?’ Macie asked.

  ‘No. But he won’t know that.’

  Chapter 31

  ‘So, this formal garden was designed by …’ John paused and scratched the back of his head. He didn’t know any famous historical gardeners. ‘Monty Don. It was designed by Monty Don.’ Jeff raised his eyebrows. He clearly didn’t believe him. ‘And over here—’

  ‘Umm, I don’t suppose you know where Hetty is?’ asked Jeff, kindly. ‘I mean this is all very interesting but—’ John had heard that teasing before in his daughter. ‘But I thought I was meeting Hetty.’

  John checked his watch. It had been just over twenty minutes. ‘Of course.’ He smiled, hoping that Jeff liked him. ‘If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to meet her.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that Marty Sutcliffe,’ Jeff said, causing John to pause. ‘He goes to the same golf club as me and when he said about the interview, I thought it’d be good. I didn’t think he was going to be so rude to you.’

  John couldn’t believe how nice Jeff was being to him, even though he was a complete stranger. ‘No need to apologise, Mr Colman. No need at all.’

  ‘My Daisy never liked him.’ Jeff gave a slightly watery smile and John could see how devastated he was by the separation. When John led him through the rose garden, Jeff slowed to appreciate the flowers. ‘These are beautiful,’ he said, holding one gently in his fingertips, smelling the delicate fragrance.

  ‘My father does a lot of the gardening now. He really enjoys it.’ John’s shoulders tensed, readying himself for a knowing look or a jibe, his defences automatically going up. But Jeff simply smiled.

  ‘He has a real gift.’

  He did. But he’d also lost himself since the vineyard fire, throwing himself into his gardening as a way of coping, and he and his family had done nothing to help him regain his self-esteem. Maybe they could open the gardens, or John could encourage his father to enter a local gardening competition? And if there weren’t any, Thornhill Hall could start one, just like they had the food festival. Anything to bring him out of himself.

  ‘Here we are,’ said John, opening the large gate to the secret garden. He could hear Hetty and a voice he didn’t recognise which he presumed was Daisy. Standing aside, he let Jeff through.

  Hetty and Jaz had hung bunting everywhere and the small metal table had been laid for two. A large cake stand stood in the middle, covered with sandwiches and pretty, delicate cakes. Jaz had found the only decent china they had left, and cups and saucers were laid out. At the foot of the table was a metal bucket packed full of ice and a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Jeff?’ Daisy raised a hand to her chest while Jeff looked on confused, but from the glint in his eye, also happy to see his wife.

  ‘Daisy?’

  Daisy shot an accusing glance at Hetty. ‘What’s all this, Hetty?’

  ‘Mum, Dad.’ Hetty clasped her hands together in front of her. ‘I know you’ve been having a tough time lately, but I just don’t think divorce is what either of you really want so—’

  ‘Darling,’ Daisy began, but Hetty held out her hands, asking for her to be quiet just a little longer.

  ‘Mum, I am absolutely positive that Dad hasn’t had an affair—’

  ‘What?’ Jeff shouted, completely shocked. ‘An affair? Who with? Daisy, you didn’t think—’ Daisy’s eyes shot to the ground and her cheeks turned pink.

  As embarrassment took over Daisy’s features, John could see that Hetty had been right. The love was still there, but it had become buried under the changes they’d made in their liv
es.

  Hetty continued. ‘I know that deep down you both still love each other. I think that because you’ve both been under each other’s feet and haven’t had any space, you’ve forgotten all the things you love about each other.’

  Daisy and Jeff glanced at each other. There was a definite chance of getting somewhere as long as neither of them bailed.

  Jaz gave a shy smile and made to leave. As she reached John, he caught her arm. ‘Thank you, Jaz. For everything.’ She returned his grin and for once her face was relaxed and happy. ‘Where’s the red wine I brought?’ he whispered.

  ‘In the picnic basket in the corner. You can’t have a romantic picnic without champagne, can you? Well, you can but, you know what I mean.’ Embarrassed, she slid out through the door.

  Daisy and Jeff were now nearer each other, gazing around in admiration. Her expression had grown softer while Jeff looked like he’d seen his wife’s face for the first time. Maybe Felix was right that sometimes last-minute decisions were worth acting on. They couldn’t all end the way his investment had.

  ‘Anyway,’ Hetty said, beginning to edge away, ‘I’ve made you an afternoon tea and all I ask is that you sit together and have a chat. But the subjects of golf, gardening, baking and other boring everyday stuff is off the agenda, okay?’ Hetty motioned for them to take a seat at the beautifully laid table and left to meet John at the gate.

  The smile she gave him made his heart beat hard, and he closed the gate softly behind them. Just as he moved away, Hetty grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. Following her example, he leaned in towards the gate, beginning a whispered protest. ‘Hetty—’

  ‘Shhhhh!’ She pressed her finger to her lips. They listened hard, but at first could only hear the birds singing and the faint buzz of a few bees as they hovered around the lavender bush behind them. Daisy was the first to speak.

  ‘So …’ There was a long pause. ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ There was a tinkling of china as they helped themselves to some food.

  ‘Daisy, do you really think I’ve had an affair?’ A loaded silence descended. ‘And do you really want to divorce me?’ Jeff’s voice was loud and pained.