by Lisa Swift
‘I thought I paid taxes so that schools could have these humiliating conversations on my behalf.’
‘Look, one of us needs to do it and I think we’ve already established why it shouldn’t be me, with my unsympathetic lady parts and undulating rivers of oestrogen. Go on, for me.’
He swallowed another mouthful of her drink. ‘Why don’t you ask Tonya? She’s a sexually liberated modern woman.’
‘Yeah, I bloody know she is. She’d be round ours with her pop-up Kama Sutra and joint-rolling kit before I hung up the phone, talking him through all the positions he ought to try out. I really don’t think Tonya’s particular brand of libertarian grandmothering is going to help here.’ She took the G&T from him and finished it. ‘No, it’ll be best coming from you. Why don’t you come over on Friday, before I drive him to Sophie’s?’
‘Can’t. I’ve got a date that night.’
‘You’re right, you have got a date,’ Lexie said. ‘With me. The three of us were going to watch Spider-Man: Far From Home before Connor got a better offer, remember?’
He grimaced. ‘Damn it.’
‘So you’ll come? Please, Teddy.’
Lexie made her eyes wide, Puss-in-Boots style, then fluttered her eyelashes a couple of times for good measure. Theo flicked her cheek with the corner of his bar towel.
‘All right, all right, I’ll do it,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I ought to know resistance is futile once you roll out the pet names. But you owe me one, Alexis Whittle. A big, big one. Like, King Kong’s schlong level of huge.’
‘Ooh! Band name klaxon.’
‘I know, right? It just came to me.’
‘You’ve got a real gift for them.’ Lexie slapped his arm. ‘Cheers for helping me parent this one out, mate. It’s not every business partner who’d be willing to offer free sex education classes on the side.’
‘Oh, for the days when that might’ve been a come-on,’ he muttered as they got back to work.
Chapter Two
The inaugural meeting of the Leyholme 1940s Festival committee was to take place in the Blue Parrot at four o’clock that afternoon. As the time grew closer, Lexie found her eyes wandering between the clock and the door with increasing frequency.
‘Shit, Theo. What if no one comes?’ she whispered, lowering her voice so Charlene, the waitress who’d just arrived to do the late afternoon shift, wouldn’t hear. ‘What if we have to scrap the whole idea?’
‘We won’t. We’ve already got Tonya, and Stevie Madeleine said she was a definite. That’s two already, plus us, and there’s bound to be more.’
Still, Lexie’s stomach churned uncomfortably as her eyes once again flickered to the door.
The Blue Parrot was a cute, quirky little place somewhere in between a cafe and a restaurant, with an eclectic menu, a cracking cook and a drinks licence. Profit-wise it wasn’t exactly a goldmine, but nevertheless, business had built steadily since Lexie and Theo had opened the place a year ago. The 1940s theme seemed to be popular, and the Parrot pulled in trade from both the village and the walkers who came to explore the stunning moors and valleys around Leyholme.
For all that it hadn’t exactly been a runaway success, Lexie was quietly proud of everything she and Theo had achieved together. She could wish the place earned her a bit more money – life as a single mum was a constant struggle in that respect – but she loved being her own boss, and having the flexibility to fit around Connor’s schedule. Even more than that, she loved being in partnership with someone she now thought of as her best friend.
The two of them had discussed long and hard the type of place they wanted to open together. It couldn’t be anything like Bistrot Alexandre, the restaurant Theo used to run with Daryl; not way out here. Leyholme was a pretty little place in the heart of rolling Yorkshire moorland, and a lah-di-dah haute cuisine establishment just wouldn’t fit. A teashop had been dismissed almost as soon as it was suggested. There was far too much competition in the local area for yet another chintzy Nan’s Pantry-type establishment to be a success. A bar, too, had been considered and quickly discounted. When it came to nightlife these were pub people, not wine bar people, and the Highwayman’s Drop and the White Bull Inn in neighbouring Morton had already cornered that market.
It had been Lexie who hit on the idea of having a theme: something that would set them apart from other local businesses. Theo, with his love of all things retro and vintage, had been the one to suggest the 1940s. There was nothing else like that around here, it suited the character of the place, and it was just the sort of thing to pull in people from outside the area as well as villagers. Which was why Lexie now found herself wearing a stuffy button-front black dress with a white collar and frilly pinny, surrounded on all sides by Union Jack bunting and posters reminding her to make do and mend, keep calm and carry on, and that loose lips might very well sink ships.
Still, Theo had felt they were failing to promote the place as well as they could do. Villagers loved the Parrot, and walkers who stumbled in after a day’s hike always left pleasantly surprised, but it wasn’t pulling people in from outside the area the way it had the potential to. Too often their TripAdvisor reviewers included the loaded phrase ‘hidden treasure’ – a compliment, obviously, but from a business point of view, not so great.
Between them, they’d come up with the idea of a Leyholme 1940s festival to take place that summer. Not a huge event; more a sort of family fun day with the Parrot at its heart, with period costumes and vehicles, music, dancing and so on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time: free publicity for the restaurant, and a way to bring in business to the village. But now, as Lexie’s gaze once again flicked from the clock to the door while butterflies Lindy-Hopped in her belly, she was starting to wonder.
She let out an audible sigh of relief when Stevie Madeleine walked in.
‘Hi guys,’ Stevie said. ‘Am I the first one?’
‘Er, yes,’ Lexie said. ‘Well, apart from us, obviously, and we’ve got one other guaranteed. We’re hoping we’ll get more, though.’
‘Who’s the one other? Your mother-in-law?’
‘That’s right. Well, she’s not actually my mother-in-law.’
‘Isn’t she? I thought she was.’
‘No, she’s Daryl’s mother-in-law.’
‘Oh, right.’ Stevie frowned while she tried to calculate this. ‘So… she’s your mum then.’
‘No, she’s Elise’s mum – his first wife. I suppose that makes her my mother-in-law by marriage or something. We’re never quite sure how to describe it.’ She smiled at the expression on Stevie’s face. ‘Sorry. We’re one of those complicated families.’
Stevie laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry. You’re talking to the queen of complicated families here. Where are we sitting, then?’
‘Over there,’ Theo said, pointing to a couple of tables that had been pushed together. ‘I hope two tables wasn’t too optimistic.’
Stevie went to claim a seat.
‘Well, that’s one,’ Theo murmured to Lexie.
To Lexie’s relief, the table soon started to fill. After Stevie came Ryan Theakston, chairman of Leyholme Parish Council, Leyholme Gardening Association, Leyholme Drystone Wallers, Leyholme in Bloom and just about every other village committee going. Tonya arrived next, followed by Janette Cavendish – Connor’s girlfriend’s mum, who lived in the neighbouring village but ran the bakery here in Leyholme – and finally Brooke Padgett, the pretty young landlady of the Highwayman’s Drop.
‘I knew we’d get Ryan,’ Theo said. ‘The man’s a committee junkie. He’ll try to appoint himself chair in a minute, just watch.’
When he and Lexie joined the group, they discovered an argument was already in full swing between Tonya and Ryan.
‘Mrs Hodges—’
‘Ms,’ Tonya corrected him.
‘Oh, well. Naturally,’ Ryan muttered. ‘Ms Hodges, I’m not sure you understand the tone of this event. We’re trying to evoke nostalgia for a much-missed go
lden age here.’
Tonya scoffed. ‘Golden age my shapely little arse. Nostalgia for what, Ryan? The millions of pointless deaths? The people who lost homes to the Blitz? The kiddies ripped from their parents’ arms? Or maybe the semi-starvation diet people had to survive on?’
‘Oh, I like her,’ Stevie whispered to Brooke.
‘Nonsense,’ Ryan said stoutly. ‘People ate more healthily during the war than they ever have.’
‘Those who could afford it did,’ Tonya snapped. ‘The working classes could barely—’
Lexie held up a hand. ‘Sorry, could someone fill us in?’
Ryan turned to her. ‘I’m just trying to explain to your mother-in-law that the purpose of this event is nostalgia for a bygone age, and to educate younger generations about this glorious period in our history—’
‘Oh, so you’re that sort, are you?’ Tonya said, snorting. ‘Who remembers rickets, eh, fellas? Ah, those were the days. Bring back the cane! String up the criminals! Hurrah for the Blackshirts!’
‘—all while showing respect for those who made the ultimate sacrifice,’ Ryan went on, ignoring her. ‘I don’t feel performance art featuring a drag-queen Winston Churchill is the sort of thing we want.’
‘Why not?’ Tonya demanded. ‘We ought to challenge people’s preconceptions. Force them to confront what they think they know about this nation’s so-called “glorious” past. Besides, Lola’s an old friend and she says she’ll do it for a free pint.’
‘Look, love, you don’t even live round here. It’s not up to you how this village chooses to celebrate its history.’
‘Right. “This village” meaning “Ryan Theakston”, clearly.’
‘We don’t want any of your “woke” PC nonsense here, thank you very much,’ Ryan said briskly, rather making a meal of the air-quotes. ‘My military re-enactment society can provide entertainment of a far more suitable nature.’
Tonya shook her head. ‘Oh, no. Absolutely not. We won’t be having that fascist bullsh—’
Theo coughed loudly.
‘Um, well, it seems as though we all have different ideas about the sort of event this should be,’ he said, smiling weakly. ‘Perhaps we ought to have a brainstorm and… see if we’re on the same page, eh?’
‘I’ll be chair,’ Ryan said, inflating his chest like a particularly self-important frog. Lexie felt Theo nudge her knee under the table.
‘But it’s not your event, is it, Ryan?’ Stevie said. ‘Theo and Lexie came up with the idea. One of them ought to chair.’
‘Oh, no, that’s OK,’ Theo said, glancing at Lexie. ‘We’ll be too busy looking after the restaurant to be in charge of the whole thing. It ought to be someone unattached to any of the village businesses, really – someone impartial.’
‘Why don’t you do it, Stevie?’ Lexie said. ‘I’m sure Ryan’s got enough on his hands with his other committees, and you don’t have any business interests around here. Besides, I reckon you’d suit chairmanship.’
Stevie laughed. ‘Because I’m bossy, you mean.’
Lexie smiled. ‘Let’s call it Churchillian. In keeping with the theme.’
‘Well, I’m happy to do it if everyone else is.’
There were approving murmurs around the table from everyone except Ryan. He maintained a sulky silence but didn’t make any objection.
‘We wondered if the last Sunday in August would be a good date to hold it; the bank holiday weekend,’ Theo said.
Stevie nodded. ‘Yes, that sounds good: right before the new school term. Milly’s doing World War II in history next year so it’s perfect timing for the Year Threes.’
‘What will we have on the day?’ Janette asked.
‘Well… I’m sorry, Tonya, but I’m not sure Churchill in drag is really all that Leyholme,’ Stevie said with an apologetic grimace. ‘Although please tell your friend we’re grateful for the offer.’
‘Huh. Suit yourselves.’ Tonya cast Ryan a resentful look. ‘Let him play at soldiers then, if that’s what you want.’
‘I think we should avoid battle re-enactments too,’ Stevie said. ‘We want to show we’re being respectful of people’s sacrifices without glorifying war, don’t we? It’s a fine line with that sort of thing. Besides, if it’s too realistic then the little ones might find it upsetting.’
‘Nonsense,’ Ryan said. ‘It’ll be educational. Sod the snowflakes.’
‘Sorry, Ryan, but I agree with Stevie,’ Theo said.
Tonya nodded. ‘Me too.’
‘And me,’ Lexie said. ‘I mean, I’m sure your group are all about remembering history rather than promoting violence, Ryan, but we want to focus on the Home Front side of life. You know, the sense of community.’
Ryan didn’t look too happy at having cold water poured on his suggestion, but he settled for humphing to himself.
‘So what will we have?’ Brooke said.
‘How about a procession through the village, if it’s not too big a thing to organise?’ Stevie suggested. ‘You know, period vehicles and things, with people in costume?’
Everyone nodded, and Stevie made a note on her tablet.
‘I thought we’d have a swing band on at the pub,’ Brooke said. ‘And how about some fairground rides in the park for the kiddies?’
‘That sounds good,’ Lexie said. ‘We ought to hire a brass band for the bandstand too, and maybe get the Leyholme Dance Society to perform.’
‘Oh! How about a flypast?’ Janette suggested.
Theo frowned. ‘What, like the Red Arrows?’
She laughed. ‘Well, maybe the budget version. I’m sure it must be possible to get a Spitfire or Hurricane to fly over, if we can afford it.’
‘OK, this is looking pretty adventurous so far,’ Stevie said, glancing at her notes. ‘We’ll leave it there for now, eh? I’ll take email addresses and we can start assigning jobs. Good work, everyone.’
Lexie followed the group to the door. She touched Janette’s elbow as she prepared to leave.
‘Janette, can I have a quick word?’
‘Of course. What’s up, Lexie?’
‘I just wanted to ask about the arrangements for Friday night. Your Sophie’s sleepover.’
‘Oh yes, she’s ever so excited,’ Janette said, smiling. ‘Connor and Oliver are coming over around five, then I think the plan is takeaway pizza and that card game they love until the wee small hours.’ She frowned at Lexie’s worried expression. ‘There isn’t a problem, is there? I’m sorry, I should have checked that he didn’t have any food allergies or anything. Sophie tells me off if she thinks I’m making a fuss so I try to take a back seat. Well, they’re getting quite grown up now, aren’t they?’
‘That’s what worries me,’ Lexie said quietly. ‘Sorry, it’s probably just mum paranoia. Connor’s never stayed over with a girlfriend before, that’s all.’ She met the older woman’s eyes. ‘I’m sure you’ve got it all in hand though, right?’
‘Honestly, I understand where you’re coming from but there isn’t a thing to be concerned about,’ Janette said in a soothing tone. ‘Graham and I will be there to keep an eye on things. You just relax and enjoy having a night to yourself.’
Chapter Three
When Connor got out of his last lesson on Friday, his mates were outside the art block waiting for him. Crucial and JJ were raining punches into each other as usual, red-faced and giggling, while Oli showed Sophie something on his phone.
‘All right, Loser?’ Crucial huffed breathlessly from his headlock under JJ’s arm.
Connor grunted and went to see what Oli was showing Sophie.
‘Hiya, Con.’ Sophie stood on tiptoes to peck his cheek, and he blushed furiously. Did she have to do that when the others were looking? She must know Crucial and JJ would start taking the piss as soon as she was out of earshot. Still, he managed a bashful smile for her.
‘Hi guys,’ he said. ‘What you watching, Ol?’
‘Bro, it’s fricking awesome.’ Oliver passed over the
phone so he could see. ‘Trailer for Star Wars: Squadrons. Kickass gameplay, and the graphics are lit. You are getting it, right?’
‘Dunno,’ Connor said. ‘If Dad sends me some money I might, but I don’t want to ask Lexie for any. Things are a bit tight right now.’
‘Mmm, I bet.’ JJ let Crucial go so he could make an obscene gesture with his thumb and forefingers. ‘Lexie always looked good and tight to me. You don’t know how lucky you are having that walking around in just her pants, Carson. The least you could do is get us some photos.’
Connor scowled at him. ‘That’s my stepmum, you twat. Anyway, she doesn’t walk round in her pants.’
Crucial shook his head solemnly. ‘How can a woman with tits that fine not have enough cash? She should sell her body, she’d make a mint.’
‘I’ve got a fiver.’ JJ looked from Crucial to Oli. ‘Come on, lads. Surely we can have a whip-round, keep Loser’s old mum from the poorhouse?’
Sophie glared at him. ‘You’re a pig, JJ.’
He grinned. ‘Yeah, you love it.’
‘Jesus,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I seriously need to make friends with some girls.’
‘What about Crucial?’ JJ said, nudging his friend in the ribs.
‘I’d better go. My dad’ll be waiting.’ Sophie squeezed Connor’s arm. ‘Don’t let them wind you up,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
‘Well?’ Crucial said when she’d gone.
‘Well what?’ Connor asked.
‘Well, have you boned her yet? You’ve been dating two months, you must’ve got a bit by now.’
Connor flushed crimson. ‘Go eff yourself, Crucial.’
‘Whoa!’ Crucial held up his hands. ‘Language, Carson. You kiss your smoking-hot stepmother with that mouth?’
‘Course he hasn’t boned her,’ Oli said. He looked at Connor. ‘You haven’t, have you?’
‘You can all mind your own bloody business,’ Connor said, blushing still deeper.
‘You’re such a simp, Loser,’ JJ said, shaking his head.
