by Katie Ginger
Hetty fiddled with the grass. ‘Can I ask you another question? If it’s not too intrusive.’
‘Sure.’ For some reason, he didn’t mind speaking about this with Hetty. He knew she wouldn’t judge him as harshly as others did.
‘What actually happened with your dad and your family’s money?’
John felt his body react as it always did, with tension gripping his neck and shoulders, but he resisted the urge to hide behind his usual barriers. ‘What have you heard?’ he asked gently.
‘Bits of gossip about vineyards and a fire but I never believe gossip. That’s why I wanted to ask you. Feel free to tell me to mind my own business if I’m overstepping, but I promise anything you say will be in confidence.’
He was sure it would be. Hetty had such a clear, no-nonsense personality and seemed so un-flinching and stoic, but there was a gentleness in her eyes and a level of empathy he hadn’t credited her with when they’d first met. He’d grown to realise that beneath her self-confidence was a kind and understanding woman.
For the first time, he didn’t feel ashamed of his father for getting them into this situation. It was done and they had to deal with it. He’d held on to those feelings long enough, punishing his father without even realising it. ‘My father was very fond of wine. Without taking proper financial advice he sunk the entirety of the family’s fortune into a vineyard that then burned down, taking us with it.’
‘Very concise,’ Hetty said, and John gave a pained laugh. ‘It must be very difficult for you.’
‘It is.’ A bubble of silence wrapped around them while outside it the hustle and bustle continued.
‘Didn’t the insurance cover it?’
‘They think the fire happened on purpose – a disgruntled member of staff. That was their reason for not paying out. I mean we didn’t have a ridiculous amount of money to start with, but we were pretty secure. Then the fire ruined us. I spend a lot of the time I should be working on my own business trying to figure out how to keep the house going so it doesn’t pass out of the family name. That would destroy my mother.’
‘How did you guys come to have the house?’ Hetty enquired. ‘You’re not titled, are you?’
‘No, we’re just normal.’ He chuckled. ‘My father’s great-great-grandfather had a lot of money and when this house came up for sale, I can’t remember the reason, he bought it. Just like any other house purchase really.’
‘Just an enormous house,’ Hetty teased.
‘Yes, just a ridiculous house. I often wish he’d bought a two-bed semi.’
Hetty laughed. ‘Yes, I bet you do.’
‘Did you know in the dim and distant past, the fields all around here used to grow a particular variety of strawberry? I guess it wasn’t very profitable either.’
‘I didn’t know that. I know the bay used to be a huge strawberry-growing region, but I guess it’s a hard profession to make a living from. What sort of income streams have you looked at for Thornhill Hall?’
John changed position, leaning on one hand. ‘Various things. Opening a few days a week, turning the east wing into a boutique B&B, grants – you name it.’
‘And nothing’s viable?’
‘Some more viable than others. It’s getting the family to agree that’s the problem.’ And now that Felix had thrown away the last tiny bit of money they had, all these ideas were looking even slimmer. Bloody Felix. As John lifted his eyes and surveyed the land, wondering what it would be like to actually say goodbye to all of this, he sickened. Jaz was standing on the edge of the field, a grim expression on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.
‘Isn’t that your assistant?’ asked Hetty.
‘Damn.’ He jumped up, startling Hetty. Damn, damn, damn. He’d completely forgotten he was meant to get them both some lunch and go back to the house. Jaz turned and walked away. From the long, fast strides, he knew she was angry.
Hetty was standing too, looking around for whatever emergency had made him behave this way. ‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Umm, nothing. It’s fine.’ He picked up the rubbish and strode away. He hated being impolite and if things were different he’d have stayed for as long as possible. But he couldn’t drag anyone into his mess of a life. ‘Thanks for lunch, Hetty,’ he shouted over his shoulder as he raced away. He hated leaving her standing there, her beautiful face marred by the confusion he’d caused. He broke into a run and made his way back towards the house and Jaz.
When he caught up with Jaz he was sweating and out of breath. He had to get rid of the rubbish before he spoke to her, he couldn’t show up with this cheese box in his hand, it would just add insult to injury. Shoving the box in a wall of conifers (he’d remove it later), he called her name.
‘Jaz! Jaz, wait, please.’
She stopped and turned, the ends of her long brown hair tied in a ponytail, swished over her shoulder. ‘Yes, John?’
‘Jaz, I’m so sorry. I got caught up talking about the festival and with everything that’s happened this morning, I just … I’m really sorry.’ She nodded her understanding and went to walk away again. ‘Have you eaten?’ She didn’t turn but shook her head.
‘No, not yet. I’ll grab something now.’
‘At least let me make you a sandwich?’
‘It’s fine. I’ll probably eat at my desk. I’ve loads to do.’
‘Jaz, come on.’ He took her arm and turned her around to face him. She looked like she was about to cry, and John couldn’t blame her. She’d put up with his grumpiness, with his short temper and with his family, and never once moaned. And now he’d left her high and dry over lunch. Making sure he made eye contact so she could see how much he meant it, he said, ‘I really am sorry, Jaz. I’ve been the worst boss in the world recently and you’ve put up with me with a smile on your face. I’m sorry I forgot about lunch. I’ve no excuse other than I’m useless.’ Finally, a small smile came to her mouth and the water in her eyes dried. ‘I just got talking about the festival and didn’t realise the time. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’
She studied his face. ‘It might take more than just a sandwich to make it up to me.’
John let his hands fall away and he tucked them into his pockets. ‘A cup of tea as well?’
Her giggle let him know he’d been forgiven. He just hoped he’d get a chance to catch up with Hetty again before the day was out. He wanted to see a smile back on her face too. But she probably thought he was a complete imbecile now.
Chapter 18
At three o’clock in the morning, Hetty woke up with a fabulous idea. Scrabbling around in the dark she hastily made a note on her phone and through sheer exhaustion managed to fall back asleep. When she woke up again, feeling as bright and sunny as the day, she wondered now why she hadn’t thought of it before and couldn’t wait to put her plan into action.
Hetty laid down some food for Stanley the seagull and watched him limp around the garden to his little plate. Set-up day had, as expected, been exhausting, but apart from one or two tiny problems, it had gone well. Even Ben’s devious arrival hadn’t got under her skin as much as she thought it would. The only thing that was bothering her was John and the way her body and mind kept reacting to him.
To her shame, she’d often thought the same as everyone else in town, that he had a great life up at the huge house on the hill and should be thankful for it. People spoke about the family’s problems with glee as if they deserved it simply for being richer, but from her conversations with John, she could see his life wasn’t one of a spoilt rich kid, annoyed because he’d lost all his privilege, but rather one of survival since his dad’s bad decision. A bad decision anyone could have made. Hetty wasn’t surprised he’d become angry at the residents of Swallowtail Bay.
More than ever she was sure his assistant had a crush on him, and that John had no idea about it. Though the way he ran off after Jaz yesterday afternoon was strange to say the least. Still it was doubtful she’d have to see her much – Hetty c
ouldn’t imagine assistants at antique firms worked bank holiday weekends.
Full of energy for her new idea, Hetty waited until seven o’clock – that was a reasonable time to call her, wasn’t it? – before excitedly making her way to Thornhill Hall. Not the fields this time, but to the house. She wanted to speak to John and share her idea, let him know about the calls she’d already made. Hopefully he’d like the idea too. Though why that mattered, Hetty couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Pulling into the turning circle again, she went to the front door, admiring the deep rich wood as she banged the knocker down hard. It was only after the echo circled around the empty gardens and engulfed her from all directions, that she worried that the family might not even be up yet. A smile formed on her lips as the door opened but turned to confusion when she saw Jaz standing on the threshold. From the scowl on her face, Jaz wasn’t particularly pleased to see Hetty either.
‘Miss Colman, it’s very early. Is something wrong?’
‘Wrong? Oh, no not at all, I was wondering if I could speak to John?’ Hetty walked up another step and Jaz protectively closed the door a little.
‘I’m afraid he’s breakfasting with the family.’
Breakfasting with the family? Did Jaz think she was some kind of Downton Abbey extra or in a Georgette Heyer novel? Hetty bit her lip to stop herself grinning. ‘Well, is it possible to grab him so I can have a quick word please? I’m pretty sure he’s going to want to hear what I have to say.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ The corner of Jaz’s mouth quivered a little as if she was resisting the urge to smile. Hetty waited for her to say more but Jaz didn’t and simply stared in an almost accusatory manner. Hetty straightened at this feeble attempt to intimidate her.
‘Okay,’ she replied with a shrug, thrusting her hands into her pockets and heading back down the steps. ‘That’s not a problem. I’ll just give him a call on his mobile.’
Suddenly, Jaz stepped forwards. ‘John’s asked not to be disturbed until at least …’ There was a slight hesitation before she finished, ‘Ten o’clock.’
Hetty turned and the tinge of pink on Jaz’s face, plus the hesitation, made her one hundred per cent sure she was lying. But that was fine. Hetty wasn’t going to play silly games. She had too much to do and the person she’d phoned would be arriving soon. ‘Okay, I’ll call him then. Thanks.’ She gave Jaz a smile and made her way back to her car and the parking field – she couldn’t keep calling it the west field, people would get confused. Pulling on the handbrake, she watched as a pale early morning sun took its time to move fully into the sky, waiting for the slight chill that made the hairs on her arms stand on end to burn off.
A few vendors who hadn’t been able to set up yesterday were arriving too and Macie directed them where to go. Already, different smells were beginning to drift on the air as the food stalls set out their goods and fired up their equipment. Before long, a small van with Snip-It’s written on the side drew up into the field and Gwen got out.
‘Are you sure about this, Hetty?’ Gwen asked, moving to the back of the van and opening the doors. Her face was softer than it had been at the committee meeting.
‘Positive,’ she replied. ‘A pop-up pamper parlour is the final thing our festival needs. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.’ And it would stop Gwen bad-mouthing the festival.
‘I can’t do hair, of course,’ Gwen said. But through her usual grumpy tones, Hetty could hear a note of excitement. ‘Well, I can braid or put hair up, but I can’t wash and dry. I was planning on offering mainly manicures and pedicures. And I printed out some little vouchers if your stewards could give them out? What do you think?’
To think that she’d printed and cut out all these vouchers since Hetty had called at seven, told her everything she needed to know. Gwen hadn’t really been against the festival, she’d just wanted to find a way to be involved. ‘Sounds great to me. You’re over there.’ She pointed to the area she’d assigned that morning on her plan and after Gwen had handed over the vouchers, she moved off.
A moment later, Macie came by. ‘What’s Gwen doing here?’
Hetty was so excited, her hands had a mind of their own and she animatedly waved the vouchers in Macie’s face. ‘I had this amazing idea at three this morning.’
‘Another 3 a.m. idea? I’m getting worried now.’ The ideas that came to Hetty in the early hours of the morning could be either completely mental (air-guitar party) or absolutely brilliant (custard pie fight for kids).
‘Hey! They’ve all been great so far.’
Macie cocked her head in silent sarcasm. ‘Remember that time you wanted to start a dog show?’
‘Okay, fair point. But this is another good one. We’re going to have a pop-up pamper parlour. Visitors can get manicures, pedicures, their hair braided – how amazing is that!’
‘I love it,’ Macie replied. ‘How will we promote it thought? We haven’t mentioned it on any of the marketing stuff.’
Hetty thought for a moment. ‘We’ll have to have someone walking around with a loudspeaker – and look, Gwen printed out some vouchers.’ She handed the bundle to Macie.
‘Wow.’
‘I know, right? She’s clearly on board with all this now.’ Hetty motioned to the entirety of the food festival.
‘Awesome. Well, I’ll sort out the loudspeaker and give some of these to the stewards.’
‘Fab. You’re a superstar, Macie. Let the first day commence, hey?’ They high-fived in triumph, anticipation, nerves and excitement, because now, it was finally happening. In only two hours’ time, at 10 a.m., the gates would open and the first ever Swallowtail Bay Food Festival would begin.
‘What’re you smiling about?’ came Ben’s familiar voice. He’d left his staff setting up the stall under the name The Bake House and not his supposed new business. Tying his apron as he went, he strolled over.
‘Change your mind?’ Hetty asked, nodding towards the sign.
‘About what?’
‘I thought you said your stall here was going to be in the name of your new business? Baker’s Dozen, wasn’t it? Change your mind, did you?’
‘Ah, well, yeah.’ He laughed and Hetty noticed him tapping his foot. He’d always done that when he was caught out. ‘You got me. I must admit I just didn’t want you to see The Bake House on your list and then tell me I couldn’t come. I know you said I could, but your eyes said different.’
He really was infuriating, and she couldn’t decide if she was flattered by his deception or annoyed. The look in his eyes was doing things to her insides again. She cleared her throat. ‘Right, well …’ She had to concentrate on the busy day ahead of her because this was it. It was make or break time. The day had finally arrived, and she had to be one hundred per cent focused. Ben would still be here when the weekend was over, and she’d deal with her feelings for him then. Until Monday, she’d lock them away in that little box at the back of her mind and treat him like any other vendor. ‘Well, have a good day’s business,’ she said cheerfully and walked off to Macie, leaving him looking perplexed.
‘Go get ’em, Hetty,’ he called out. She could hear his smile and the affectionate teasing tone that she’d loved so much. She might need an extra padlock on that little box, she thought with a grimace.
At ten o’clock everything was ready. The volunteer stewards had been briefed and were eager and excited in their high visibility jackets, and the lights from the funfair sparkled even in the bright sunshine. A symphony of noise met her as she gazed around at everything she’d drawn together in one place. Well, she and John Thornhill. And there he was in her mind again, all handsome features and deep, resonating voice.
Comical beeps and noises came from the rides, the clinking of pots and pans emanated from the food stalls, all underpinned by a base level of excited murmurs. Hetty raised her eyes and thanked her lucky stars that the sky was cloudless and fine. The sun was a bright yellow orb in a clear blue sky and the slight breeze was w
arming by the minute. It was a perfect summer’s day. The unmown fields that surrounded the festival remained packed with tall flowers growing wild and free. As people walked up from the bay, along the bridleways, they’d see the sea on the horizon, still, calm and unmoving. Was there ever a more perfect place on earth?
‘Right,’ she said to the assembled crowd already queueing to come in, ‘let’s open these gates, shall we, and start the inaugural Swallowtail Bay Food Festival.’
A cheer rose up and the large wooden gate was pulled open and those that had walked up from town were let in, while the stewards began to direct a line of cars as to where to park. Hetty greeted everyone cheerfully. Lexi from Raina’s Café waved hello and Hetty waved back. She was here with her ex-husband, Will, and their children. No doubt they’d be popping over to Raina’s stall to see her. It was definitely one of the most popular places in town, but the good thing with the festival was that everyone had the same size pitch and the same chance of gaining new customers. This weekend was a celebration of her amazing hometown and everyone who was a part of it.
Snippets of conversation met Hetty from those that passed. ‘So good to see the festival coming back’ … ‘as long as it’s not all those burger vans you get in lay-bys’ … ‘snooty Thornhills – now they know what it’s like for the rest of us, being skint’.
At the mention of the Thornhills Hetty looked around for John. What a shame, she thought when she realised he wasn’t there. It would have done wonders for him and his family if he’d been here welcoming everyone alongside her. Her buoyant mood dipped as worry surged inside. Was he just busy? Or perhaps his absence meant that despite everything he’d said and done, the festival just wasn’t as important to him as she’d come to think.