by Katie Ginger
‘I hope John makes it to open the gates tomorrow, Stanley. I think he’ll enjoy seeing everyone there.’ She tossed another crumb from her plate, but Stanley didn’t go after it. He watched it land, then turned to her again. ‘What’s the matter?’
Stanley stared, and under his beady-eyed gaze, she suddenly realised she hadn’t mentioned Ben once this evening so far. And it wasn’t because she’d locked her feelings for him in a box at the back of her brain, refusing to open it – that tactic wasn’t working particularly well at the moment – it was because her brain was jam-packed with thoughts of John. Not massive life-changing thoughts, just imagining everyday tasks they’d complete together, conversations they’d have about this and that. Every time she asked Stanley a question, she could hear what John would reply. It was like he was with her in spirit, and she realised with a sudden jerk of her limbs that her heart liked that idea as much as her mind did.
Completely unnerved by how much she wished he was there, sharing a drink, talking about the boring ins and outs of the day, Hetty took another swig of her wine. Glancing around, she began to imagine what it would be like to have him standing in the kitchen doorway, bringing out more nibbles for them to share. What would it be like living with him? She knew he could laugh and joke but was also caring and kind. Her treacherous mind suddenly presented her with an image of them in bed together, not just rolling around in the sheets – though the very idea made her hot and her body tingle – but both of them propped up reading books, drinking tea he’d brought her in the morning. She somehow knew that he’d be the one to make it, treating her to a lie-in. Ben had always insisted they take turns, though it was more often her turn than his.
Flopping back in her chair, she realised that what was truly unnerving was that these feelings were stronger than anything she had felt for Ben. Even in the beginning of their relationship.
In the warm evening sun, with the gentle shushing of the sea in the background, it suddenly struck Hetty that she was falling for John Thornhill. And falling hard. As grumpy and blunt as he’d seemed at first, there was so much more to him. There was definitely something between them. A spark in the air whenever they were together. An equal partnership of minds and ideals as well as a physical attraction. And it was growing the more they saw each other.
‘Oh, Stanley.’ Hetty let her head fall into her hands and rested her elbows on the table. ‘As if life isn’t hard enough right now, I’ve gone and fallen for the lord of the manor. I knew my heart couldn’t be trusted.’ But as worrying as all this was, it created a deep sense of ‘right’ down in the base of her soul.
The seagull flew off, clearly bored of the conversation and the lack of bread it had created, leaving Hetty alone. A smile pulled at her lips as she thought of John, then quickly disappeared. She was having a romantic starlit picnic with Ben in just about twenty-four hours’ time and the very idea made her stomach lurch.
After finishing her wine, Hetty went back indoors and watched some mindless television, trying to fill her brain with troubles from the screen rather than her own worrying thoughts. After flitting between several different television shows, attempting to read three different books and even turning on Radio Four to see what they were arguing about now, she called it quits and trudged up the stairs to bed.
Her bedroom was cool where the windows had been open all day and the blinds drawn. Throwing on the shorts and vest top she liked to sleep in, she climbed into her enormous, comfortable bed. The cool crisp sheets slid over her skin and she enjoyed the feel of the cold pillow on her cheeks. Snuggling in, her legs and back ached from the efforts of the day and her mind was finally beginning to stop its incessant whirring. She closed her burning and gritty eyes and listened to the musicality of the pebbles being drawn underneath the water. She waited for sleep to take her, but sleep stayed determinedly away.
Hour after hour she tossed and turned, and the night was torrid and difficult. Even though a cool breeze blew into the room, she felt hot no matter how she lay, or how many covers she kicked off. She tried hanging one leg out but even then, her mind would fill with thoughts of John and her body would grow hot. Occasionally dozing off, Hetty awoke easily with every noise and her thoughts constantly swung between Ben, her parents and John. Images of what it would be like to kiss him with his trimmed beard pressing against her lips flicked on the back of her eyelids. Her body imagined being held by him, feeling his strong arms around her. Then pictures of Ben would float through her mind. He wanted a second chance and Hetty had loved him so deeply for so long.
Were her feelings for John more to do with the excitement of the festival and the sense of being in it together? Were her feelings for Ben more solid because of the past they shared? Or was it that her feelings for Ben were unreal? Merely a reminiscence of time gone by, and though she had yearned for a future with him back when they were together, was that really what she wanted now?
Having given up all hope of sleep, Hetty opened the blind and curtains, and from the comfort of her bed, watched the sun rise, listening to the birds sing their dawn chorus. The sky was a beautiful shade of pink with bright orange flashes here and there, like someone had gone at it with a highlighter and she felt privileged to see it. Ironically, the serenity of the scene helped her doze off and she awoke a little while later, her alarm buzzing. It turned out it had been for some time and she was now running horribly late. Panic hit like a bolt of electricity and she scrabbled around getting ready though she felt tired and worn out and her eyes stung as if someone had thrown sand into them.
As Hetty clipped her fringe back, the thought of seeing John Thornhill after some of the very naughty thoughts she’d had last night filled her with embarrassment. It was as if he’d know from the look on her face she’d thought about passionate kisses and much, much more. Huffing out a breath, Hetty could honestly say that as far as her love life was concerned she’d never been more confused in her life.
Chapter 22
John didn’t know about Hetty, but from his perspective, the first day of the food festival had been a huge success. Considering it had been a Friday and a lot of people were still working, it had been far busier than he’d expected. With today being Saturday, he could only imagine how crazy and fun the day was going to be. Again, he’d used the word fun. A word that was virtually nonexistent in his vocabulary before he’d met Hetty Colman.
This morning, he’d arrived at the gate just before ten o’clock, hoping that today he’d be able to greet the visitors and see Hetty before the day began. He’d tried not to think about her all night but the image of her face, broken by her parents’ news, was etched on his brain. He’d hated seeing such pain and being helpless to do anything about it.
After checking his watch again, he gazed around once more but Hetty wasn’t there. He spied Macie speaking to one of the stewards. ‘Hey, Macie, have you seen Hetty anywhere?’
‘No, I haven’t.’ He could tell she was worried too. ‘She texted to say she was running late which is weird. She’s never late for anything, and she especially wouldn’t be late for this if she could help it. Maybe she went to see her parents or something?’
John checked his watch again. ‘Well, it’s nearly ten o’clock, we’re going to have to get the gates open soon. I can’t believe there’s such a massive queue.’ He rubbed the back of his neck, already warm from the sun.
‘Hetty knows what she’s doing,’ Macie said proudly. ‘She knew just how to market it and build a buzz. All the flyers and posters have worked well, not to mention your radio interview. You did really well there.’
‘Thanks,’ said John feeling ridiculously proud at the compliment. If Macie had said that to him, she might have said the same to Hetty.
‘I’m so pleased that things have gone well so far. Well, apart from some minor mishaps but they always happen. Once we ran a children’s party and this kid had a giant piñata – when he swung to hit it, he completely missed and walloped his mum square in the face.’
‘There was loads of blood – the kid had broken her nose – the dad saw the blood and passed out and Hetty was straight in there, telling the other parents what to do while she took everyone to minor injuries.’
‘Is that why there are bandages in the emergency box?’ he asked.
‘Yep. Lots of them.’
John’s watch ticked to exactly ten o’clock and he nodded at Macie. They signalled to the stewards to open the gate and the awaiting crowd were let in. Day two was starting and John found himself even more excited than he had been yesterday as he was met with smiling faces, kind comments and excited chatter, but Hetty was still nowhere to be seen. All of a sudden, her Mini screeched into the car park and she hurtled out of the car. The shoelaces of her blue spotty trainers were undone, and she was wearing dungarees.
‘Hetty,’ he called as she rushed past him. She paused and gave him a polite smile, but it didn’t carry any of the warmth it had yesterday. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Sorry I’m late.’ She went to rush off again, but John felt the need to take charge a little. She’d work herself into the ground if she didn’t stop and at least have a coffee. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and he knew then she hadn’t slept for worrying.
‘Wait, wait.’ He caught hold of her bare arm before she could dash off again and where his fingers touched her soft skin they prickled. She paused and stared at his hand. Worried her glare meant he’d gone too far, he quickly removed it. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? Please, let me get you a coffee or something. There are no disasters to solve yet, we think.’
‘No, everything’s fine right now,’ Macie agreed. ‘You should definitely have a coffee and a chocolate brownie. I bet you haven’t had breakfast.’
Hetty’s shoulders slumped a little. ‘No, I haven’t. Okay then, a coffee would be great, thanks.’ She turned to answer an older lady hobbling by who had said hello. As if she hadn’t a care in the world, Hetty said, ‘Morning, Mrs Bates. Yes, I think we’ve got another good day ahead of us. Aren’t we lucky?’ The old lady cast her eyes over John, and he smiled and welcomed her to the festival.
‘Good morning, Mr Thornhill. How’s your mother? We haven’t seen her at the library in a while.’
Hetty glanced towards him and John beamed. That Hetty would even think about how this sort of comment might affect him with all she was handling herself was the most heart-warming thing he’d ever experienced. ‘No,’ he answered with a grin. ‘Unfortunately, I think her to-be-read pile has got so big she’s trying to get through that first. I’m sure she’ll be back in town as soon as she’s caught up.’
‘Well, I do hope we’ll see her again soon. Please tell her Mrs Bates says hello.’
‘I certainly will. I hope you enjoy the festival.’
Mrs Bates hobbled on and Hetty whispered, ‘That’s not quite true, is it?’
‘No, but she was being nice, and I didn’t want to dampen her mood.’
‘That’s nice of you.’
‘I am nice,’ he replied, leaning in to whisper, wanting to be close to her. ‘But don’t tell anyone.’
She leaned in too. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.’
As they strolled on to one of the other coffee vendors (not Raina’s this time as they didn’t want to seem biased with the awards coming up), Hetty was quiet and answered his polite conversation with one-word answers. They ordered and he handed her a takeaway cup. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a quick glance up at him. ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night. I should really put these on.’ She pulled a pair of sunglasses from the front pocket of her dungarees and brandished them in the air. ‘I look a right state.’
‘You look beautiful,’ he replied without thinking, and when her head shot up all he could see was the beautiful and worried soul behind her glorious eyes. He had an overwhelming urge to cup her face and draw her in for a kiss. Hetty darted her eyes down and she shrugged off the compliment.
‘I look like a right old grot bags, but there’s another busy day ahead of us and no time for tiredness today.’ She had a sip of her coffee. ‘All I need is a bucket of caffeine and maybe some chocolate.’
He could tell she was deliberately trying to avoid discussing the phone call she’d received yesterday, burying herself in her work. ‘Could you not sleep last night?’ She appraised him for a second and then answered.
‘I just kept having a million and one weird dreams, so I don’t really feel like I slept at all. I missed my alarm this morning, which I can assure you, never normally happens.’
‘I believe you,’ he replied. ‘I was sorry to hear about your mum and dad. If there’s anything I can do to help …’
‘No, no, all fine, thanks.’ She swigged her coffee. ‘I’m just pleased we’ve got another fine day. Tomorrow’s forecast is a bit cloudy but it’s still saying only two per cent chance of rain, so we’ll be fine.’
Knowing the conversation was ended, John tried to lighten the mood. ‘What problems do you think we’ll be faced with today?’
‘We?’ she echoed, her eyes having regained some of their normal brilliance. They began to stroll through the stalls. The vendors were already busy with customers and the wide-open spaces were filling with people. The first band Hetty had organised was setting up at the makeshift stage – a patch of grass surrounded by hay bales – but people were already gathering ready to watch.
‘Yes, we. More Portaloo problems? Do we need to re-stock the emergency box?’
‘I can’t imagine what else might happen to the Portaloos, but never say never. There’s always something that goes horribly wrong. The key is how you handle it.’
‘Maybe the Thornhill ghost will make an appearance.’
It was an off-the-cuff remark but Hetty’s tone and expression grew lighter than it had been so far that morning. ‘Is there really a Thornhill ghost?’
‘Not really, but people love the idea. Mother thinks there is and I’m afraid I do sometimes tease her, moving her book and blaming the old spook.’ He nodded a greeting at a passing woman.
‘And you’re how old?’
John grinned. ‘The story goes back to when the original family owned the place, before it got sold, the eldest son fell in love with a woman from the town but she was already engaged to another man. The son challenged the man to a duel—’
‘There really isn’t enough duelling these days, is there?’
‘Definitely not. The son shot the other man and killed him, but then the woman decided she didn’t want the son either and when she tried to break it off, he killed her and then himself. Weirdly, only the ghost of the son has been seen according to legend.’
‘Well, that’s cheerful.’ Hetty giggled.
‘Ghosts don’t generally have happy stories.’
‘No, I suppose not. Have you ever seen him?’
‘No. When I was little, Felix used to tease me about him, making footsteps and echoes and blaming them on the ghost but he never appeared. Is there anything in the emergency box to help if our spectre turns up?’ He took a sip of his coffee, the happiest he had been in a long time.
‘Umm, no, but I do need to top up the chocolate bars. If he appears, we might be able to distract him with one of those. Everyone likes chocolate, don’t they? Anyway, ghosts aside, are you sure you can handle this? You have no idea what’s going to be thrown at you in the exciting world of events management. It might just be more than a lord-of-the-manor antiques dealer can handle.’
‘I’ll have you know’– John began to grin – ‘us stuffy lord-of-the-manor antiques dealers deal with all sorts of emergencies on a daily basis.’
‘Is that so?’
‘It is. I’ve saved babies, got cats out of trees, helped little old ladies across the road—’ He listed them on his fingers.
‘Very heroic,’ Hetty replied.
‘I am. So I’m sure I can handle today.’ His hand brushed against Hetty’s as they walk
ed side by side. John’s head filled with a million things he wanted to tell her but he couldn’t read Hetty’s expression or see if she felt the same way. He had a feeling that if she felt even a fraction of what he was right now, she’d explode. After a second of loaded silence he cleared his throat. ‘You ready to do a site check?’
‘You’re getting the hang of this,’ she replied, popping on her sunglasses. ‘Let’s go.’
Chapter 23
Hetty’s heart had fluttered apprehensively on seeing John at the gate when she arrived at the fields.
It wasn’t just that after starting off so disinterested in the festival he’d really got involved, or that his support over her mum and dad was appreciated even though she didn’t want to open that can of worms just now. It was that her epiphany about him had completely and utterly shaken her world and now she had no idea how to act around him.
Everything felt alien, the atmosphere loaded. But John seemed his usual self, his face never betraying a hint of anything. Pushing up her sunglasses, Hetty knew she had to act as normally as she could.
She was pleased to see that as they walked around the site, ticking things off on her checklist, John was genuinely interested in what she was doing, learning from her. The only problem they encountered was the hooks on the little yellow duckies floating around the hook-a-duck game seemed to be a little too bent over. So much so that it would be very difficult to actually hook one. Hetty had spent five minutes straightening them under the glare of the stall holder. Stubbornly refusing to be intimidated, she’d simply smiled at him and strolled away once she was done. Then they’d called at the pop-up pamper parlour to see a chatty Gwen, busy with teenage girls getting fake nails, and younger ones having their hair braided. She even had another member of staff with her.