by Fern Britton
The house was still and quiet. Chloe had gone back to Mack’s, as usual, and Sean and Terri were in Dorrie’s best room at the Dolphin.
Helen padded downstairs, pulling on an old cardigan over her nightie. She put the kettle on and collected the papers from the mat.
Hearing a vehicle on the road outside, she looked out and saw that it was the big screen men. She’d take them some coffee later, but decided to let them get on with it for an hour or so.
By 7 a.m., most of the village males were out in force discussing technology, high definition, 3-D and other blokey stuff. All of them had a coffee in their hands, as did the engineers. By 9 a.m. BBC1 was broadcasting loud and clear throughout Pendruggan.
Helen stepped out into the hum of anticipation. First stop the marquees.
They were each brimming with flowers, vegetables, home-made jams and chutneys, the Stitch and Bitch society’s fabulous quilts, the Wood Workers’ society with their turned light-pulls and salad bowls, and the long trestles with pale-pink cloths ready for the home-made cake entries.
Mr Audrey Tipton was on the public address system: ‘One two. One two. Can anyone hear me?’ Several people turned and shouted back, ‘Nooo.’
Outside, Helen spotted some extra stalls. One was a jolly striped tent with the sign PSYCHIC POLLY – ASK ME YOUR FUTURE AND I SHALL SHOW YOU THE WAY pegged outside. The other was an attractive antique side table with two regency chairs on a raised dais.
Simon approached her, wreathed in smiles. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you!’ He pointed, and she turned to see Penny standing behind her.
‘Pen! We’ve missed you! When did you get here? How are you? How has the edit gone? Are you nervous about tonight?’
‘Give me a chance! I came down late last night to surprise Simon and check Mavis and her guest into the Starfish. Yes, the edit has gone well and I’m really excited. Doesn’t all of this look amazing!’ Penny swung her arms wide as if to embrace the whole village.
‘It’s great, isn’t it,’ Helen said. ‘But I’m just wondering who this table is for.’
‘Ah,’ said Simon. ‘That’s for Mavis and her guest to sign books. Mavis’s publisher has decided to reprint her back catalogue, hoping to make a healthy return. And as for her guest, well, he’s no stranger to bestsellers, is he?’
‘But who is he?’ said Helen.
She never heard the answer as piercing feedback from the speakers drowned out Penny’s words, and then she and Simon headed off towards the GUESS THE WEIGHT OF THE VICAR stall, before she could ask her to repeat it. Exasperated, Helen turned away and then saw Terri and Sean walking towards her carrying half a dozen canvases.
‘Where do you want these, Ma?’
50
The carnival was due to be opened by Mavis Crewe at midday. By half-past eleven, Terri’s pictures were hanging in the church and an enormous crowd was waiting on the village green for the attractions to open. Several of the Rotary Club men were stewarding the tents and not allowing anyone in to peek at who the prize-winners were.
The boy scouts were doing a grand job directing a large queue of traffic into the farmer’s top field, which had been set aside as a car park.
Walking back from the church, Helen was joined by Queenie. She was wearing the costume she’d worn for the filming, a fabulous green cloak and veiled hat.
‘What have you come as?’ asked Helen.
‘It’s to add a bit of authenticity to me pasty stall, innit. Don’t tell your mate Penny, but I accidentally forgot to ’and it back after me day’s acting.’
*
At five to twelve, a blacked-out people carrier turned on to the village green with two police motorcycle outriders. Mavis Crewe stepped out first, clad in pillar-box red. To everyone’s astonishment, she was accompanied by her star guest, Alan Titchmarsh.
Queenie took one look and said, ‘Oh my good Gawd, it’s ’im. It’s Alan.’ Thankfully, Polly, dressed in a multi-coloured kaftan with numerous strands of beads and a turban, was on hand to step in and administer medical attention.
Mavis and Alan approached the microphone. Mavis went first.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of Pendruggan … Or should I say, St Brewey!’ A loud cheer went up from the crowd. ‘I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your outstanding generosity and willingness to allow the producers, cast and crew of Hidden Treasure to take over your beautiful village and make such a success of the filming. I shall be signing Mr Tibbs books later at a special discount: buy one and get the second at half price!’
‘Tight old bitch,’ said Queenie, pushing Polly’s bottle of smelling salts aside.
Mavis continued: ‘I have just returned from cruising the world, which was an unforgettable experience. I made many new friends, including this gentleman standing next to me.’ Loud cheers. ‘May I introduce a man who needs no introduction. The man who will officially open today’s proceedings … Ladies and gentlemen, Alan Titchmarsh.’
‘Get me to the front, Helen. I want to see if ’is hair is real,’ said Queenie.
‘You stay put, Queenie,’ said Polly. ‘We’ll see him soon enough.’ Polly whispered to Helen, ‘Just keep an eye on her, would you? I’ve got to get to my tent. She’ll be all right in a minute.’
Alan started to speak: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to be here in Pendruggan and very much looking forward to visiting the horticultural tents. Mind you, I like a bit of fruit cake too, so if the ladies on the cake stall will keep one back for me, I will pay you as I come round. Enjoy the day, the weather and being among good friends. I now proclaim this carnival well and truly open.’
His timing was immaculate. The church clock struck midday just as he said his final words.
An immediate scrum ensued. Queenie broke loose and headed towards the mêlée. Helen tried to stop her, but gave up.
While one crowd, led by Queenie, swamped Alan, another surged towards the tents.
Helen made for the flower tent. It took a while to push through, but when she got to the delphinium display, her own entry had won nothing. She edged through to the sweet pea table and found she’d come third out of ten entries.
‘Well done, Mrs M.’ Tony appeared beside her.
‘We must find the vegetables to see if your peas have won anything.’ Helen took Tony’s arm and led him over to the vegetable display. ‘Oh wow, look! You’ve got second and a highly commended.’
Before long, Tony was deep in conversation with Alan Titchmarsh, who was cradling a fruit cake, so Helen moved off, not wanting to interrupt.
She wandered out of the tent and bumped into Dahlia, David Cunningham and Gray.
‘What’s happened to Captain Pugwash these days?’ said Gray, obviously referring to Piran.
‘Mind your own business,’ replied Helen. ‘Hello, Dahlia. Hasn’t this old git bored you stupid yet?’
Returning her kiss, Dahlia answered, ‘He’s a silly old fart, but I like having him around. He makes me look young.’ She grabbed Gray’s arm and kissed him affectionately. Gray looked wounded, then rather smug as a couple of old fellows walked past looking envious.
‘Hello, David. How are you?’ Helen greeted David Cunningham.
‘Fine. Fine. I’ve brought my wife and kids with me. They’re here somewhere. I’ll introduce you later. But first, I’m going for a pint. Coming, Gray?’
Dahlia gave Gray a look which he interpreted correctly. ‘No thanks, old man. Maybe later.’
As David took off towards the booze, Helen asked Dahlia, ‘Are you both still on to judge the fancy dress in the main ring? About three p.m.?’
‘Of course. Love to.’ Dahlia spotted something that caught her eye. ‘Look, Gray – a fortune teller. Let’s go and see what the future holds for us.’ And she dragged a less-than-excited Gray off.
*
‘Oh my God! Polly is brilliant!’ An excited Chloe plonked next to Helen, who was sitting on the bench by the phone box. ‘She told me that going to Sri Lanka was just the first o
f many travels, and that Mack and I had a real future together. She told me I’d have two children and come back here to live once I was settled. Isn’t that great!’
‘Genius,’ replied Helen.
‘Sean and Terri are in there now. Can’t wait to see what she’s told them.’
They waited ten minutes, then Chloe went to get Sean and his girlfriend to drag them back to Helen.
‘So what did Polly say?’ Chloe was clapping her hands like she used to when she was little.
‘Ma, Chloe …’ Sean suddenly looked serious and Helen noticed that Terri was a little pale.
‘What?’
‘We are going to have a baby.’
‘How lovely. And when does Polly say this will happen?’
Terri turned to Helen. ‘It’s already happened. We were going to tell you tonight, but Polly has just seen the baby in my palm. She says it’s a little girl.’
Helen clutched both Sean and Terri’s hands. ‘You mean, you already know you are pregnant. Definitely?’
‘Yes. Four months. Congratulations, Granny!’ beamed Sean.
Helen leapt to her feet with her hand at her mouth. ‘Oh my goodness. Oh. Oh.’ Tears of shock and happiness overwhelmed her inexplicably. She sat down again and Terri and Sean both put their arms round her. She managed to say, ‘Does Dad know yet?’
‘Not yet, we wanted you to know first.’
‘Hello, kids!’ Gray strode up behind them, grinning like a Cheshire cat with Dahlia, looking less than happy, on his arm. ‘I’ve just had my fortune told and apparently old Dahlia and I are a match made in heaven. We even have the sound of tiny feet to come in the not-too-distant future.’
‘I feel rather faint. Can I sit down next to you, Helen?’ said Dahlia.
‘Dad,’ said Sean, ‘you definitely will be hearing the patter of tiny feet – around November. You’re going to be a granddad.’
‘Thank God!’ Dahlia and Gray said together, making the whole party laugh.
*
By 2 p.m. most of the stalls had sold out. All Queenie’s pasties were gone and the Rotary men’s barbecue had been a huge success. Polly had a steady stream of people queuing up outside her tent and poor Simon had been picked up so many times by people trying to assess his weight that his hips were feeling bruised.
The pipe band, dog show and majorettes’ display in the main arena had slightly overrun, so it was a little later than advertised that David and Dahlia entered the ring to judge the fancy-dress competition.
‘The ring of doom,’ said David, off mic. ‘No matter who wins, the others will all hate me.’
‘Don’t worry, there’s a prize for everyone. It’s first, second and third, and then everyone gets a lollipop.’ Helen handed him the three envelopes containing book tokens and gave Dahlia a large plastic sweet jar full of brightly coloured lollies.
The winners were a five-year-old girl dressed as Roadrunner, a ten-year-old boy as Mr Tibbs, and fifteen-year-old twins who came as Fish and Chips. After lots of photos and time spent charming the losers and their parents, Dahlia and David left the show ring unscathed, and to massive applause.
Next was the tug of war. Two teams of huge young men entered the ring and were cheered by every female available. Mr Audrey Tipton gave the order for battle to commence and Helen left them to it.
She found herself outside Polly’s tent. There was no queue, so she ducked her head through the flap to ask how Polly was doing. She was snoozing quietly in her deckchair, her turban on the table by her crystal ball and tarot cards, her hair damp with sweat. She stirred as she sensed someone watching.
‘Hello, Helen. Do you want your fortune told?’
‘No, I just wanted to see how you are. You’ve done a roaring trade.’
‘Always do. Sit down and I’ll have a look at your hand.’
Helen sat. Polly put her specs on and took Helen’s hands. ‘Don’t mind if I don’t put me turban back on, do you? Right, let’s have a look. Mmm …’ The feeling of Polly’s gentle fingers tracing the lines on her palms was very soothing. Helen relaxed for the first time that day. ‘You know already that you’re going to be a grandma, a little girl who will bring great happiness to you all.
‘Now, your first husband, Gray, he’s going to be fine with Dahlia. There may be times he’ll want refuge at your place because she’ll give him a hard time, but don’t feel sorry for him. Mmm … Chloe. She’s a great girl. She’ll travel, but will settle back here and always be close to you. She’ll need you when she’s had her little ones. Let me have a look at my crystal ball …’
She dropped Helen’s hands and picked up the smooth, clear orb, polishing it with one hand and looking deeply into its magnified depths. ‘Ah, now. This is interesting. I don’t see a marriage as such, but you aren’t on your own. And there is wedding news. News that will make you very happy.’
‘Chloe and Mack? Sean and Terri?’ Helen ventured.
‘No. Not them. An older couple.’
‘Gray and Dahlia?’
‘No, it’s … well, I can see Holy Trinity. It’s here in the village. But I can’t see who. Oh, and … what’s that?’ Polly looked up and to the right of Helen. ‘OK. Yes. I’ll tell her.’ She returned her gaze to Helen. ‘My guide has given me a message from the spirit world: “Violet says thank you.”’
A chill spread up Helen’s spine.
‘Polly, please don’t tell anyone you said that, will you.’
‘No, of course not.’ Polly smiled and tapped her nose. ‘The spirits and me operate in strict confidence. Like doctors and priests! I think we both know who Violet is, don’t we? I believe that she’s happy you have looked after her house and garden so well. That’s all. I see only happiness ahead for you – rejoice!’
Helen stood up, still feeling rather shaken. She wasn’t entirely sure that Polly’s explanation was the right one. She felt instinctively it was something to do with Falcon’s ashes and the other contents of the tin box. She swept her hair from her face and said, ‘Thanks, Polly.’ Then, after a pause. ‘Are you coming to the big-screen broadcast tonight?’
‘Try keeping me away!’
The two women kissed and Helen left the humid little tent, glad of the cooler afternoon air outside. She immediately heard a familiar voice, one that she had been secretly longing to hear.
‘So, maid, did Polly see me in your future?’
It was Piran. He put his hands on her shoulders and spoke: ‘Why haven’t you been in touch, Helen? I wanted to talk to you.’
‘I wasn’t sure what we had to say to each other. You seem to be intent on clinging to the ghost of Jenna. There’s no room for me.’
Piran sighed and looked at Helen, his face serious.
‘When Jenna died, my heart was ripped out. It has taken me a long time to get back on an even keel, and even now I have my dark days. But I want you, Helen. I’ve not felt like this about any woman since Jenna, but I need to take it slowly. You have to understand that.’
He took her hand and held it to his chest. ‘So, Mrs Merrifield, on those terms, will you be my girlfriend?’
She looked deeply into his beautiful, sincere eyes and nodded her head. He kissed her softly, then more deeply.
He put his arm around her and they walked quietly away from Polly’s tent.
As they wandered together through the sounds and smells of the country fair, a feeling of a deep connection with Piran, this village and its people overwhelmed Helen. This was the right place for her. She had come home.
51
By 6 p.m., the village green was virtually deserted, the carnival committee had almost cleared up all the debris, and the tents were empty of their displays. In the church, several of the paintings had red stickers on them, including three of Terri’s.
Helen’s little house was filled with the usual crowd: Simon and Penny, Gray and Dahlia, Chloe and Mack, Sean and Terri, and of course Piran, who was pouring drinks for everybody. When he’d finished, he made a little speech:
/>
‘I’d like everybody here to raise their glasses to Simon and Helen for all their efforts in making today such a success. Cheers!’
Simon blushed and looked at his feet while Helen gratefully took a swallow of her Scotch on the rocks.
‘I should like to make a toast too.’ Simon spoke softly: ‘To Penny Leighton. She has brought great excitement to Pendruggan and much happiness to me. Here’s to her and the stars of tonight’s big entertainment.’
Penny quietly stood next to him and put her arm through his, giving it a squeeze. ‘May I say something too?’ she asked.
Gray interjected, ‘Oh, bloody hell, no, Pen. We all get the message. What time shall we gather tonight? Dahlia’s got to get her face on.’ He playfully pinched Dahlia’s bottom, then as quickly ducked as she swung a slap towards his cheek.
‘The show starts at nine, so let’s meet on the green at eight forty-five,’ said Penny. ‘I’ve got a row of chairs reserved for us lot and the diva known as Mavis Crewe.’
*
Helen and her friends left Gull’s Cry at 8.30, carefully wrapped in warm jumpers and insect repellent. The big screen was showing the final reel of a James Bond film and the green had become a makeshift auditorium. Hundreds of people had arrived with deckchairs and kitchen chairs and claimed their spot. In the middle, and roped off from the others, was a row of a dozen comfortably cushioned garden chairs. On the end was a ruby-red velveteen reclining armchair in which Queenie was firmly ensconced.
‘’Ello, me ducks. Some of the boys brought me chair out for me. I can’t sit on nuffin’ else. Not with me asparagus veins.’
‘Do you need a drink?’ offered Piran, tongue in cheek.
‘Bless you, no, I’ve got me bottle of brandy in me bag.’ She tapped her ancient cream leather handbag with a gnarled hand. ‘I’ll have a packet of crisps, though.’
David Cunningham, Dahlia, Gray, Penny and Mavis all arrived at that moment. Piran took the drinks order for everyone, with soft drinks for Terri and Chloe, and David sauntered off with him to help carry the load back.
