The Postcard, page 27
‘What are you giggling for?’ demanded Suzie. ‘Bunting can go very wrong. Follow me and I’ll show you how I expect it to be done.’ Suzie led the two giggling girls out into the garden.
Helen went to Ella who was spooning jam into egg cups and gave her a kiss. ‘How is it going? Fancy a coffee? I’m making one for Penny.’
Ella pushed a red curl across her forehead and blew her cheeks out. ‘We’ve been up since five and I’m knackered. She’s like a sergeant major. And yes please, I’d love a coffee.’
‘Did someone say coffee?’ asked Simon, coming back in through the back door. ‘Hello, Helen.’ He bent to kiss her. ‘Has anyone seen the first-aid kit? PC Jan has smashed her thumb while hammering up the bunting.’
The morning rattled on in similar vein with dramas and triumphs, an inspection from Mrs Audrey Tipton, and a crisis surrounding the loss of the Pendruggan Cup, a tarnished piece of history awarded annually to the Champion Horticulturalist. It was eventually found in the boot of Mrs Tipton’s car, under the fetid behind of her ancient labrador.
The official opening of the Fayre was at two and the clock was ticking. Penny (who had had a very satisfactory phone call with her locations manager) and Simon and Jenna were to cut the ribbon. As they left the house, Penny admired her husband. ‘You do look handsome.’
He blushed. ‘It’s only my old linen jacket.’
‘I know, but you look good in it.’ She kissed him.
He scooped up Jenna in one arm and put his other arm around Penny. ‘I’m a proud man to have my two beautiful girls to show off.’
Suzie, who was standing behind them, hurried them up. ‘Come on, you two. I don’t want my scones going dry in this heat.’
The village green was chock-a-block with colourful stalls, invitingly bedecked in streamers and yet more bunting. Cars were parked three deep in one of the fields and the crowds were flocking in.
Mr Geoffrey Tipton was, as always, the voice of the PA system as he said, ‘Welcome to Pendruggan Summer Fayre.’ His electronically enhanced voice boomed with enough feedback to make the dogs waiting their turn in the show ring bark and cower. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, take a ringside seat for our cuddly canine competition, the Pendruggan Dog Show.’ There was some scattered applause. Audrey Tipton nudged him and hissed, ‘Tell them Dr Adam is the compere.’ Geoffrey did as he was told. ‘Compered by Dr Adam Beauchamp.’
Adam stepped into the ring and waved to the crowd. His dark floppy hair, candy-pink striped shirt and tanned arms had quite an effect, not to mention his trim behind caressed by tight jeans. He received a barrage of wolf whistles from some of the bolder women. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Let’s meet the contestants for our first category, the Dog Who Most Looks Like Their Owner.’ There were more cheers as several dogs and owners made their way into the ring. Suzie, standing on the sidelines in the shade, watched him for a few minutes. The familiar feeling of being undervalued and ignored brewed in her stomach. Adam barely noticed her and Penny and Simon had the whole village in the palm of their hands. What did they have that she didn’t? Why did no one care for her in the way they cared for Penny? No one saw her standing in the shadows and no one saw her leave as she returned to her duties at the cream teas.
The afternoon wore on, joyful and good-natured. The fancy dress competition went without mishap or too many tears; Simple Tony won gold for Helen’s peas; and Queenie’s pasty stall sold out.
Children with painted faces, fuelled by E numbers, chased each other through the legs of strangers.
Fathers sat on the grass outside the beer tent, pleasantly merry and mothers were queuing up to get their palms read by Psychic Polly. The sun was cooling down and the stalls were running out of stock. The Vicarage Cream-Tea Garden was now closed. Suzie, her feet aching and her hands sore from washing-up, came over to the green to share the two final events of the day. She’d spent all day gritting her teeth while the villagers gossiped about what a good job Penny had done on the cream teas this year. How light the scones were and how beautiful the garden looked. She’d pointedly mentioned to a couple of people that the scones had been hers and that Simple Tony was responsible for the garden, but that didn’t seem to stop everyone thinking that she was nothing more than a skivvy when it had been all her own hard work and Penny hadn’t lifted a finger!
Geoffrey opened up the PA system for the final judging of the day. ‘This year’s Art Competition is entitled The Spirit of Cornwall and The Sea. The judges have been over to the church and have made their decision and all entries are now available for public view. However, we have brought the winning painting out of the church and over here for all to see.’ He pointed to two men carrying a painting that was hidden by a large blanket. ‘Bring it over to the stage, gentlemen,’ ordered Mr Tipton.
The two men settled the covered picture on an easel and stepped back. Mr Tipton opened an envelope. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I can announce that the judges have awarded this year’s Art Competition prize to …’ He gave a dramatic pause which was filled by a group of young farmers shouting, ‘Get on with it, fatty.’
Geoffrey coughed. ‘To … Kit Beauchamp!’
Kit and Ella standing in the crowd stared at each other open-mouthed. Queenie, next to them said, ‘Oh my good gawd.’
‘Would Kit please come to the stage and unveil his painting,’ said Geoffrey.
Kit grabbed Queenie’s hand and pulled her towards the stage. They both arrived flustered. Kit took the mic. ‘Gosh thanks,’ he said. ‘Thank you to the judges and more especially to my muse, Queenie.’ He held her hand up to the crowd. An enormous cheer went up. ‘OK,’ said Kit, ‘are you ready for this?’ He took a corner of the blanket and pulled. The crowd gasped then fell to silence, then laughed and whooped and hollered. The picture was of Queenie, stark-naked but for strands of mermaid’s hair seaweed hiding her essentials, standing in a giant mussel shell with the breakers of Shellsand Bay behind her. ‘I call her Queen Aphrodite of Pendruggan, with apologies to Botticelli.’
Queenie grabbed the mic. ‘’Asn’t he done me lovely?’
Suzie watched with a curled lip as the villagers roared their love and appreciation of the old crone. So that was what she had seen at Marguerite Cottage, she thought to herself. Not a sleazy assignation after all. Just a sleazy sitting for a sleazy painting.
Penny tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Isn’t Queenie brave? I wouldn’t have done that in a million years. But she looks so good. Kit’s done a wonderful job, don’t you think.’
Suzie smiled thinly. ‘Wonderful.’
The PA system howled back into life. ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, we saved the best till last,’ said Mr Tipton. ‘The inaugural Pendruggan versus Trevay Rounders match! Come on, everybody. Young or old, everyone is welcome. Step into the showring and find your teams.’
Piran put himself forward as umpire and scorekeeper.
‘Can the two captains come here for the toss, please,’ he said loudly.
Gasping Bob stepped forward for Pendruggan and Dr Adam for Trevay.
Piran took a fifty-pence piece out of his pocket. ‘Doc, heads or tails?’
‘Heads,’ said Adam decisively.
Piran flipped the coin. ‘Heads it is. You want to bat or field?’
‘Field.’
Adam put himself in as bowler and Gasping Bob faced him, bat in hand. Adam rolled his shoulders and moved his neck from side to side to warm up. Bob spat out his cigarette.
‘Ready?’ shouted Piran.
Bob and Adam stared each other out and nodded.
‘Right, off you go,’ said Piran, settling into a deckchair next to a blackboard with a piece of chalk in one hand and a pint in the other.
Adam swung his arm and let go of a fast ball. Gasping Bob never took his eyes off it and smashed it out of the showring. His sinewy legs in his very short denim shorts powered him round first base, second, third. Someone in the crowd picked up the ball and threw it to the man on fourth base who missed it and Bob easily scored the first rounder for Pendruggan.
Adam retrieved the ball and bowled again, this time to one of the young farmers. Again it was smashed out of the park and Piran chalked up another rounder for Pendruggan. Even Queenie hit it hard enough to get to second base, albeit with Kit doing the running for her. At the end of the first half Pendruggan had scored twenty-seven.
Piran called for a refreshment break before the teams swapped over.
First to bat for Trevay was Adam.
Gasping Bob did the honours as bowler and Adam missed the first ball.
‘Too low,’ said Piran.
Gasping Bob rolled his cigarette from one corner of his lips to the other, narrowed his eyes and let the ball fly. Adam hit it high. The crowd fell into a hush as they watched the ball arc into the sky then plummet down, straight into Simon’s open hands.
‘Out!’ shouted Piran.
‘Oh, jolly bad luck. So sorry, Adam,’ Simon called as he tossed the ball back to Bob.
Bob bowled again, this time to a fit-looking young woman in trainers. She swiped it hard out to third base where Queenie was standing, musing about her portrait. ‘Look out,’ yelled Bob, running backwards to catch it, but, too late. Queenie looked up just as the ball and Gasping Bob’s head were coming right at her.
As she lay on the ground Adam sprinted towards her.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, feeling for her pulse.
She took a couple of fluttering breaths and opened her eyes. ‘Oo, better now you’re ’ere, doc.’
‘You’ve got a real shiner coming up there, Queenie.’
‘Thank gawd it’s after my painting’s been finished,’ she said, trying a smile.
‘Better get you off to A & E to be checked out,’ said Adam, stroking the paper-thin skin of her hand.
Psychic Polly, now in her official ambulance uniform, arrived panting. Adam filled her in and Queenie was loaded on to a stretcher and taken off to hospital with Helen accompanying her.
‘Shall we play on?’ said Piran matter-of-factly.
‘Aye,’ said Gasping Bob, lighting another cigarette. ‘I’m just getting into my stride.’
The game continued but in a slightly less gung ho manner. Trevay were now eighteen rounders to Pendruggan’s twenty-seven.
Bob stepped down from bowling and Simon stepped up. Suzie took over as backstop.
Ella went into bat. ‘Golly,’ she said, ‘I haven’t done this since I was at school. I wonder if I can remember how to do it?’
Simon aimed a nice clean bowl at her and Ella whacked it hard. The ball soared off to left of field and Ella ran, flinging the bat behind her as she’d been taught at school. Ella heard something and turned, just in time to see it land squarely on Suzie’s nose, and Suzie collapse to the grass with blood all over her face. ‘Oh my God!’ Ella screamed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Adam and Penny were on the scene at once and examined Suzie’s nose.
‘Oh you poor thing,’ gasped Penny. ‘You poor darling. Are you OK?’
‘It’s not broken,’ said Adam, feeling gently along the bridge of her nose. ‘I’ll take you back to the Garden Clinic to patch you up. Can you walk?’
‘Yes,’ said Suzie in shock. ‘Thank you.’
Penny helped her to her feet, catching her other arm as Suzie swayed once upright. The crowd murmured around them and Suzie caught the words ‘bless Penny, that poor sister’. It was always Penny that got the attention.
Ella was in tears. ‘It’s all my fault,’ she sobbed.
With Suzie’s arm now looped through Adam’s, Penny took Ella off to the refreshment stall. ‘You’re in shock, darling. You need a drink.’
Once they’d gone, Piran took charge again.
‘Right, teams. We’ve twenty-six minutes of play left and there’s only nine points in it. Let’s play on.’
Adam unlocked the Garden Clinic and guided Suzie into his room. ‘Is it still bleeding?’ he asked.
Suzie took away the wad of tissues she’d been holding and Adam saw a fresh trail of blood snaking its way out of her nostril. ‘Oh dear, yes. Here.’ He handed her a fistful of paper towels while he found an enamel kidney dish, sterile swabs, and some sticking plaster.
‘This might sting a bit,’ he said as he mopped her up, stemming the flow. ‘You’re going to have quite a bruise by the morning. You and Queenie will be in competition.’
Suzie smiled up at him. ‘Shall I put a raw steak on it?’
‘Leave that to Tom and Jerry!’ he laughed. ‘You’d be better off eating the steak than wearing it. Does it hurt much?’
‘Yes.’
‘Headache?’
‘Yes.’
He flashed a penlight in her eyes and took her pulse.
‘You’re going to be fine, but just sit here quietly for a few minutes.’
Sitting there, alone with Adam, Suzie could hear the match still being played. The thwack of the ball and a man’s voice shouting, ‘Tommy Tommy Tommy! RUUUUN!’ Then cheers and applause.
‘What a funny old day,’ she said.
‘They must have raised a lot of money,’ said Adam. ‘How did your cream teas go?’
‘Sold out. Every one of my scones gone. Not that I got any bloody credit for it, of course. Blessed Penny did it all, don’t you know?’
‘Well, the scones were the best I’ve ever eaten. I’m sure people know who the real hero of the day was, don’t you worry,’ he winked supportively.
‘Thank you.’
‘Let me just check that the bleeding has stopped.’ He came close to her and put his hand to her nose and pulled out the wadding. ‘There, it’s stopped,’ he said peering closely at her injured face. He was just inches away.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
He jumped back like a scalded cat.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he said.
‘You feel it, don’t you? The attraction between us?’
He looked at her with a frown. ‘Suzie, I’m going to put this down to your injury and too much sun. As far as I’m concerned this never happened. I think we’d better get back to the Fayre, don’t you?’
There was a noise out in reception and Ella appeared, anxious and apologetic. ‘Oh Suzie, I’m so terribly sorry. At school we never had enough bats and so we always had to throw them down. Are you OK?’
Suzie started screaming. ‘Get him away from me! Please, Ella. Get him out of here.’
‘Wha-what’s happened?’ asked Ella. She looked from Suzie’s bloodied face to Adam’s terror-stricken one.
Suzie was hysterical. ‘He tried to kiss me!’
Ella looked at him. ‘Did you?’
Adam shook his head, his face pale. ‘No! You must believe me, Ella, I would never do that.’
‘He did!’ shrieked Suzie. ‘Then he said that I was to forget it had happened.’
‘Did you?’ Ella asked him again.
‘Yes, but it was because she kissed me.’
‘Did you kiss him?’ Ella said to Suzie.
‘I—’ Suzie gulped. ‘I’m feeling very faint. I can’t really remember.’
Ella said, ‘What are you saying? That Adam assaulted you? That’s a very serious allegation. Or, are you saying that there’s been a misunderstanding?’
Suzie turned her eyes to Adam and stared at him. He looked down at his shaking hands. Eventually she said, ‘Maybe it was a misunderstanding.’
Adam breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Ella went to help Suzie up. ‘Right, let’s get you home.’
36
Ella took Suzie home and put her on the sofa. ‘If Adam behaved inappropriately then you must speak up,’ she told Suzie firmly. ‘However, if he didn’t, please, please don’t speak about it. It could cause him a lot of trouble and be very upsetting for both of you.’
Suzie lay wanly on the sofa, her nose swelling and her eyes black-and-blue. Ella almost felt a compassion for her. Almost.
‘I shall keep quiet about it,’ Suzie said, in what she hoped was a brave voice.
Ella nodded and crossed her fingers that Suzie was telling the truth this time.
On Monday the vicarage had its quiet hum of normality back. The garden was cleared of its tables, chairs and bunting, the kitchen was spotless, thanks to Ella, and Simon could move freely around his office and drawing room, now that the endless boxes of posters and prizes had been taken away. He sat at his desk and sent a prayer of thanks and relief that it was all over for another year. Penny brought him a cup of tea. ‘God, I feel knackered,’ she said, perching herself on the edge of his desk and dislodging his carefully organized papers. ‘Don’t you?’
Simon caught the papers as they headed to the floor. ‘A bit. My shoulders ache.’
‘That’ll be the rounders. Cracking match and a good win for us.’ Penny sipped her tea. ‘It’s going to be an annual event now, isn’t it?’
Simon reached a hand up to rub his aching neck. ‘I need to get some more exercise in if it is. I’ve rather let it go, this year. I haven’t been out on the surfboard since last summer.’ Simon was a very good surfer; he’d been a lifeguard in his youth and still had a great physique.
‘How about a run around the green every morning?’ asked Penny. He gave a small laugh. ‘You’ll come with me, I suppose?’
‘Good God, no,’ said Penny. ‘My idea of sport is to lie on a hot beach reading a magazine.’ She stood up, dislodging a few more papers, and started to massage his shoulders. ‘Then watch my handsome husband as he catches yet another wave, looking all sexy in his wetsuit.’
Simon had a feeling he knew where all this physical affection was going and he really didn’t have time for it at the moment. The fayre always seemed to create more admin than you’d think, and besides which, they had a house full of people.
Penny bent and nibbled his neck. ‘How about you and me …’ He was about to make an excuse when, miraculously, there came a knock at the front door. Simon sent another prayer of thanks.
‘Bugger,’ said Penny. ‘We never get a minute to ourselves. I’ll get it.’
