The Great Escape

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  ‘Give us about half an hour, everyone. Abbie’s brewing up another batch of sauce for the last of the scones,’ Charlie urged as she shepherded everyone away from the tent.

  ‘Wow, she has no idea how close to the mark that statement actually is,’ I murmured as I heard the zip on Abbie’s jeans going down, then the sound of fabric rubbing against skin as she panted and cursed. I winced and screwed up my face as I heard the result of hours of resisting the gummi expulsion hitting Abbie hard. My ears were assaulted with Daphne’s best attempts to drown out the sound of escaping wind and liquid movements, as well as Abbie’s sobs between expletives and promises to send the rest of the bears back to hell along with the remains of her intestines.

  Abbie finally lay on the grass, clutching her stomach while she whimpered, clothes back in place, as I turned my head to the side and quickly put the lid back on the temporary toilet box, making sure it was sealed tight. This really was the true test of friendship. Charlie had rushed home and returned with some wet wipes for her to clean up, while Daphne had inadvertently drawn more attention with her flawless renditions of a series of bizarre and unrelated songs.

  ‘We need to get you home to bed, sweetie,’ I sighed.

  ‘I can’t move. I feel so weak, and the thought of my bottom cheeks rubbing together when I’m so … raw … I … I … I wish Miller was here and not in New York. I think I’m just going to lie here until it passes.’ She sounded like a weak, pitiful kitten.

  ‘I’m not leaving you here, Abbie.’

  ‘You have to. I don’t think those damn bears have finished with me yet. It’s like each miniature innocent-looking critter was touched by Jesus Christ and miraculously turned into litres of liquid poo. I’m going to hunt down the manufacturers and force feed them their evil creation. My God, I smell worse than when Mr. Davies does his muck spreading. He could save himself the trouble, just bend me over and I’d fertilise his fields all on my own.’

  ‘Sweetie, you don’t smell that bad,’ I lied, trying to placate her. ‘Besides, we’re going to have to pack everything up now anyway. There’s no way we can serve food from here, not after … well, you know.’

  ‘But my takings,’ she protested, attempting to sit up but flopping back on the grass again with a groan.

  ‘Trust me, you’d baked so much and we’d nearly sold out anyway. There’s only about ten scones and five cookies left and all the jam’s gone. We should do fine, and if we don’t, you’re more important that this damn competition. Charlie, can you find Weston for me and ask him to come and help me get Abbie home?’

  ‘No need, here he comes,’ she pointed. ‘Wow, he even walks sexily. Look at that swagger. Does he have a brother?’

  ‘Honestly, I’ve no idea,’ I replied. I really needed to start finding out more about him. He was a tough nut to crack and I was reluctant to fire too many questions at him in case he felt pressured, like he had with his ex.

  ‘Ok, from the look on your face, something’s wrong, and this time I’m not taking no for an answer,’ he stated firmly. ‘Would you?’ he added, as he handed Bertie’s lead to a blushing Charlie.

  ‘Why hot,’ she replied. ‘Oops, not, I mean not. Not hot. Not that you’re not hot. You are hot, but I meant why not. I’m Charlie, by the way. No filter. I write sexy books and you kind of get used to getting it all out in the open. Words, that is, not my bits. I don’t do naturist breaks. I mean, who wants to see everything on display? It would be like working in a butcher’s shop all the time. Nothing would be appetising anymore, would it? Damn it. Can we just erase this meeting and start afresh at lunch tomorrow? Come on, cutie, let’s go for a walk before I make things even worse,’ she said in a rush, scooping Bertie up into her arms and scurrying off into the crowds. Weston grinned at me and raised his eyebrows before squeezing past the table to come and join us at the back of the tent.

  ‘No, please don’t let him see me like this. I want to make a good impression for our first official meeting now that you’re dating,’ Abbie moaned.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that, not with Charlie’s first introductory speech and now Daphne singing Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Do you think she even has any idea what that song is all about?’ I giggled, shaking my head in disbelief.

  ‘That’s Daphne?’ Weston exclaimed as he crouched at my side.

  ‘The one and only. I told you she was young and hip for her age. Only I had no idea just how hip. She’ll be needing a replacement if she doesn’t stop trying to body pop. Right, I need to get Abbie home, but she can’t walk. She’s had some kind of … food poisoning and she’s in pain. Can you help me carry her back?’

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I won’t help you, I’ll carry her on my own.’

  ‘No,’ Abbie moaned. ‘I can’t go, the judges will announce the winners soon.’

  ‘Abbie, you need to be in bed,’ I warned. ‘And I’m not taking no for an answer. I can stay with you and I’ll ask Charlie to come and give us an update later.’

  ‘But it’s always been you and me, one of us has to be here. I need a blow by blow of her facial expression if I beat her again. It’s what we live for each year. Please, Georgie,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Abbie,’ I sighed.

  ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on, but it sounds pretty important,’ Weston said. ‘So how about I carry Abbie home and stay with her? I’m first aid trained and can keep an eye on her while you stay here, as this obviously means a lot to you both.’

  ‘You’d really do that? I could be some time.’

  ‘If it will earn me brownie points with your friend and make her decide I’m ok for you to keep dating, of course it’s ok,’ he smiled, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on my lips. I wanted to grasp his hair and drag him back for more, but it wasn’t the time or the place.

  ‘You can’t, I smell shitty and it’s still … windy on the southern front,’ Abbie whispered, covering her embarrassed face with her hands.

  ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know,’ I added when Weston opened his mouth to say something. He nodded curtly and ignored Abbie’s protestations as he swept her up into his arms, then stood up effortlessly, showing off his strength.

  ‘Trust me, I’ve seen, smelled, and heard worse in my life. You’re Georgie’s best friend, which means I want to become your best friend too, Abbie, so just pretend I’m her.’

  ‘I can’t do that, you’re way hotter than Georgie,’ she giggled, peeking out at me from between her fingers.

  ‘Hey!’ I objected. ‘I take offence to that. Go on, you’d better go while I try and diffuse the customers who are going to be angry that we can’t serve them now.’

  ‘See you later,’ Weston said. I smiled and squeezed his muscular arm, then watched him striding away, carrying Abbie as if she were just a feather in his arms. I let out a gentle sigh of amazement at how wonderful he was to offer to take care of her.

  ‘So, I take it I can stop singing then?’ came Daphne’s voice.

  ‘Hmmm,’ I murmured, not able to stop my eyes from scanning his broad shoulders, tight backside, and firm calves.

  ‘Fallen hard.’

  ‘Hmmm. Wait, what? You’ve fallen over?’ I spun around to face her, worried something serious had happened. She laughed as she held the edge of the table and carefully lowered herself back onto her stool.

  ‘Not me, you. I know the look, and I don’t blame you. Handsome and chivalrous. If I was fifty years younger, I’d be tempted to fall for him, too.’

  ‘I barely know him, Daphne. It’s just lust.’ I bit the corner of my lip as I realised I was lying to her and to myself. I was falling hard, and far faster than I’d ever expected to after the way Greg had treated me. He’d have recoiled in horror from Abbie if he’d been put in that position. However sweet those dangerous bears might have been, they couldn’t disguise the scent that clung to her after her ordeal.

  ‘Lust my arse,’ Daphne scoffed. ‘The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the sooner you can move on and b
e happy again. I have a feeling he could make you very happy, Georgie. Don’t mess this up by being stubborn because of Greg’s failings. Not all men are cheats. My David had plenty of chances in his time, such a good looker he was,’ she stated wistfully, with a dreamy look in her eyes. ‘But he never strayed. No matter how hard some people may have tried to tempt him to.’

  ‘Someone tried to get him to cheat on you? Knowing you were married? I can’t believe someone would stoop so low.’

  ‘Trust me, she did, more times than I can count. And–’

  ‘Can everyone hear me?’ boomed Reverend Potter’s voice from the strategically placed speakers dotted around the grounds, followed by a high-pitched screech from the microphone.

  ‘I swear to God, he’s going to finish me off one fête day,’ Daphne exclaimed, putting a shaking hand over her heart.

  ‘You and me both,’ I agreed.

  ‘Stall holders, no more sales please. It’s time to hand in your takings for counting and verification of this year’s biggest fundraiser. And now it’s time for me to announce the prize winners in each of this year’s categories. Gather around, gather around. Fear not, little flock, for it is your father’s good pleasure to give you the results.’ Reverend Potter chuckled in amusement at his take on a biblical quote. He was known for them at social gatherings.

  ‘Luke 12:32,’ shouted someone.

  ‘Excellent, Mr. Chormondley. It seems my sermons are not in vain.’

  ‘Go. I’ll keep an eye on the money, you need to collect Abbie’s winning rosettes,’ Daphne urged, gently pushing me away.

  ‘I so hope she wins. She’ll be devastated if she doesn’t, on top of an already shitty day,’ I huffed.

  ‘Shitty day. Oh, I do love you young girls’ sense of humour,’ Daphne chuckled, not realising I wasn’t actually joking.

  I nervously wrung my hands as I stood near the front of the crowds while the winners’ names for each event were called. I straightened my posture as Lady Kirkland slithered up beside me, a waft of overpowering perfume encircling her and clearing the way for her to join me.

  ‘I see your comrade is too embarrassed to witness her loss in person,’ she stated as she inspected her fire engine red nail polish.

  ‘Actually, she’d be standing here in person to proudly accept her win, but she has taken ill, so I’m going to accept on her behalf. And because I’m actually not as nice as Abbie, I may even rub her rosettes in your face, Lady Kirkland. Because, unlike you, Abbie does all of her own baking. She doesn’t cheat and then tear a strip off the poor cook that was forced to make things in her name.’

  ‘It seems being cheated on has given you some backbone at last. But I warn you, if you make one more slanderous comment like that, I know where to send the legal papers, Miss Bassett.’

  ‘It’s only slander if it’s not true, and you and I know that it is. Sssshhhh,’ I warned, shoving a palm in her face as Reverend Potter announced next was the award for the scones.

  ‘And in third place, as ever, Mrs. Spalding. Now I know that there’s only ever three entrants to this category, as no one else is brave enough to take on the might of Lady Kirkland or Miss Carter, but if only you’d put currants in your scones this year instead of black peppercorns, they’d have won second prize, as your quince jelly to go with them was simply divine. Might I suggest an optician’s visit before next year’s fête?’

  Mr. Spalding helped his ageing wife up onto the small stage to collect her rosette, and Lady K and I exchanged a combative look.

  ‘And in second place, well, one day there may be a surprise, but today is not that day. Lady Kirkland, please come and accept your runners-up rosette.’

  ‘Yes!’ I yelled, doing an unladylike fist pump in the air to know that Abbie had won. Again. She’d be so chuffed. Lady K’s head shook with the effort to rein in her response, her eyes narrowing in disgust as her face turned scarlet. ‘Better luck next year,’ I said sweetly as she spun on her heels and headed away from the stage in a temper, leaving Braithwaite the butler to go and collect her prize.

  The roar of excitement and loud applause as I went to collect Abbie’s winning prizes for all three of her category entries almost convinced me I’d actually won on my own merit. I grinned as I saw Lord Kirkland give me a nod and a wide smile. I knew he detested his mother almost as much as most of the village did, so anything to take her down a peg or two was all good in his eyes. I virtually skipped back to Abbie’s tent, clutching her rosettes, and gasped to see Daphne smothering a chocolate cherry scone with the last of our supplies of jam and cream and handing it over to none other than Lady Kirkland.

  ‘Daphne, we’re not supposed to be serving anyone now,’ I warned as I hurried over.

  ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t sold anything. Lady Kirkland just wanted to find out why Abbie won first-place.’

  ‘I know, but–’ I broke off, trying to think how I could stop Lady Kirkland from eating without embarrassing poor Abbie. Health and Safety executives would probably sue us if they knew we were serving food after what had happened in the tent earlier, but everything had been covered, and was Lady K likely to get ill from eating a scone?

  ‘No buts, Miss Bassett. Now how about some of this famous chocolate sauce I’ve been hearing all about?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re all out, I’m afraid,’ I advised, as I tried to squeeze around her and back behind our table.

  ‘Don’t worry, I have a tub here. I found it at the back of the tent,’ Daphne stated as she stood holding a full Tupperware box labelled “Chocolate Sauce.”

  ‘Really? I could have sworn we’d used it all,’ I frowned. ‘We had to upset people earlier as we couldn’t find any more.’ I looked back at where all the empty containers were stacked up and took in a sharp breath, horror filling my veins. Where was the box that Abbie had pooped in earlier? ‘Daphne!’ I cried, reaching out to grab the offending item from her. In fairness, with the lid on, anyone would have made the same mistake. She sidestepped me as she whipped the lid off with far too much ease, considering how tightly I’d closed it earlier to stop the God-awful smell from leeching out.

  ‘Honestly, Georgie. If Lady Kirkland wants chocolate sauce on her scones, then I don’t see what the problem is. Here you are, hold your plate out while I pour some on for you.’

  ‘Daphne, no!’ I lunged at her just as she tilted the box and stepped forward. I watched, mortified, as everything played out in slow motion. The contents of the box arced up into the air, crested, then slowly began to descend like a proverbial shit storm as Lady K’s nose wrinkled up in disgust as the smell hit her. Her eyes widened and her lips formed a perfect circle of surprise as the wall of liquid approached her, then splattered across her chest, some backsplashes radiating up over her face, and she let out a hysterical high-pitched scream.

  ‘Oh dear, silly me. Lady Kirkland, I’m so sorry,’ Daphne said, not sounding apologetic at all as we stood staring at the former Lady of the manor dripping in front of us.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ I breathed, not sure whether to cringe or howl with laugher. ‘Do you have any idea what was actually in that box?’ I asked Daphne under my breath.

  ‘Of course, dear. I’m old, not stupid.’ Daphne winked, a flicker of glee crossing her face before settling back into a fake apologetic mask as she held out a small paper napkin when Lady Kirkland started to retch.

  ‘She didn’t!’ Abbie and Weston exclaimed as I sat on the edge of Abbie’s bed, gesticulating wildly as I filled them in on the events of the afternoon.

  ‘She so did. I’m telling you, that was an act of revenge if ever I saw one. She must have deliberately loosened the lid on the box with the intention of throwing it all over her, but when she came to try your scones, Daphne saw the perfect chance to make it look like a genuine accident. I think Lady K was the woman who tried to seduce Daphne’s husband.’

  ‘A woman scorned,’ Weston nodded. ‘I’d say she got her payback. I have to admit, when you warned me that Abbie’s nickna
me was Disaster Carter and that Daphne was unlike any eighty-year-old I’d ever met, I thought you were exaggerating.’

  ‘You told him I’m Disaster Carter?’ Abbie protested, clutching a hot water bottle to her still grumbling tummy with one hand and a cold compress to her forehead with the other.

  ‘He knows you pooped a hot tub’s worth of fluid in a plastic box, Abbie. I hardly think the nickname is the worst he’ll think of you.’

  ‘Stop,’ she groaned, closing her eyes. ‘I’m so humiliated.’

  ‘I think Lady Kirkland wins first prize for that at least,’ Weston laughed, gently taking her compress off her and dipping it into a bowl of iced water on the bedside table. I watched as he carefully wrung it out and placed it back on her forehead and felt my heart swell with immeasurable happiness to see how caring he was being with her. Was Daphne really right? Could he be the one to heal my heart from the inside out?

  ‘I’m sorry, this wasn’t how I envisioned you getting to know my friends. I wouldn’t blame you if you ran screaming after today,’ I said.

  ‘I never scream when I run. Besides, the only direction I want to run right now is towards you, or by your side.’ He held my gaze and I felt my cheeks flush as my heart lost its usual steady rhythm at his impassioned declaration.

  ‘Dear God, don’t make me eject fluid from the top end now with all these gushing statements of love,’ Abbie teased, pretending to vomit.

  ‘Love?!’ Weston and I shot up off the bed at the same time, suddenly unable to maintain the heady eye contact we’d just been lost in for a moment.

  ‘Relax, I was teasing, but good to see how scared the thought makes you both.’

  ‘I’d better go and find Charlie. She has Bertie and I need to get him back home to feed him.’ Weston ran a hand through his hair as he gazed over at the door, looking like he’d suddenly rather be anywhere than here.