‘Oh, I don’t know!’ I said, growing exasperated. ‘I don’t keep a log of these things. Last year sometime. Late summer, perhaps?’
‘Right. And when did you two start going out together then?’
‘Properly? Not until Christmas.’
I’d fallen in love with him long before that. Hook, line and sinker. I first realised I had feelings for him when we went away together on the charity run to France. Of course I hadn’t known then he had a glamorous girlfriend back at home. It wasn’t until after he and Sasha split that the flame between us began to grow. We’d had a few false starts, a few reckless nights of passion, some misunderstandings, but we’d come together in the end. At Christmas. Like a festive romantic comedy film with the perfect happy ending. Only now it wasn’t looking so perfect.
‘Right. Exactly. So it could be Max’s baby then?’
‘No!’ Yes. ‘Of course it isn’t.’ If I just kept telling myself that then maybe I could make it be true. Katy gave me a doubtful look. ‘Look Katy, I know about as much as you do. It’s Max we need to talk to.’
‘Well what I don’t understand is why else would Sasha come back to the village?’
All I wanted was for Katy to stop talking. Her constant questioning was making my head throb, her questions only giving voice to the very concerns and fears I had. I really liked this girl, but honestly, I was on the verge of throttling her.
‘I have no idea. She said she liked it here. That it would be a great place to bring up a baby.’ Even to my own ears, I was sounding reasonable, level-headed and calm. The complete opposite to what was going on inside of me.
‘I mean, Sasha does know that you and Max are an item now?’
‘Yes, of course she does.’ I paused, pondering on that. ‘Well, I think she does.’ Truth was, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
‘Oh my god, the bastard!’
‘Katy. Please! There’s no need for that.’
‘If Max is messing you about then I’ll bloody murder him!’
Glancing across at her, I didn't doubt her intention for a minute.
‘You’re jumping to conclusions,’ I told her. The very same conclusions I’d been jumping to myself, admittedly.
Maybe Max had only just found out himself. Maybe this had been what he was going to tell me. That Sasha was pregnant. The only remaining question was who exactly was the father?
*
‘Are you not coming in?’
We’d driven up the long and imposing drive of Braithwaite Manor and I’d pulled the car up beside the water fountain in the turning circle.
‘No, I won’t. I have to get back to the pub. There’s a meeting tonight of the summer fair committee and I’ve said I’d be there.’ I was glad of the excuse even if it was the last thing I wanted to do right now.
‘But what about Max? You need to speak to him. Find out what’s going on. Aren’t you desperate to know all the details?’
‘Yep,’ I nodded. ‘But not now. I really can’t face Max yet. It will have to wait.’
‘What am I supposed to say to him then?’ asked Katy. ‘Just pretend that we didn’t bump into Sasha today?’
‘Do what you think is best?’ I said, pulling her towards me for a hug, feeling a surge of affection for this young girl. In just a short space of time I’d grown to love her feisty, opinionated, and funny ways. I loved her directness and her honesty. At her age I hadn’t been nearly as gutsy. I certainly wasn’t about to tell her what she should or shouldn’t say to Max. I didn’t want her feeling caught in the middle of us. And even if I asked her not to mention bumping into Sasha, I wouldn’t have the slightest hope she’d be able to keep to that promise.
I shared Katy’s impatience, but I knew for the sake of a couple of days, I was better off biding my time and seeing what transpired. If I spoke to Max now I couldn’t trust myself to say the right thing, not to fly off the handle, or worse still, dissolve into a snivelling heap of tears.
I suppressed a sigh. It would have to come though and my heart sank at the prospect of that conversation, but at the moment I was too much of a hot mess of emotion. My head was a complete muddle, tangled thoughts vying for attention. I needed to get myself under control, to present a calm exterior to Max when he told me the truth of the situation with Sasha. Why were we even needing to have this conversation though? Part of me still couldn’t believe it. Up until today the only thing we needed to worry about was when we were going to next see each other, if we could find the time to snatch some precious moments together. Now, there was something hanging over us, that could change our relationship forever. There was no way I was going to stand back and watch Max and Sasha play happy families right under my nose, if that was what he wanted. And if it wasn’t his baby, then, as Katy had quite rightly asked, what exactly was Sasha doing back in the village? If she didn’t want to bring up her baby in London, she could have chosen to go anywhere else in the country, so why exactly had she picked Little Leyton?
After dropping off Katy and her bags at the manor, I headed back to the pub in the car, relieved to be on my own at last. A bit of distance and some time alone was just what was needed.
Outside, the weather was warm and the windows to the pub were opened when I pulled up. It looked so inviting, taking centre stage in the High Street. A few hardy types were sitting on the wooden benches, enjoying an afternoon drink. Polly had put up the hanging baskets and they lined the front and sides of the old building in a riot of bright colours. Pinks and mauves and reds, heralding the arrival of summer. Any other time and I would have been buoyed by the sight, but right now it was as if I was immune to their charms.
‘Hi Ellie,’ said Dan, greeting me as I walked through the main door. ‘Oh, is everything okay? You look a bit peaky?’
‘Yes, fine. Just a bit tired that’s all.’ Exhausted more like. The events of the afternoon had depleted all my energy. A tiredness, like nothing I’d experienced before swept me up and wrapped me tightly in its hold. ‘Everything okay here?’ I asked, looking around.
‘Yes. Busy,’ said Dan with a smile. ‘I think the sunshine has brought everyone out. You look as though you’re in need of a cuppa and a sit down. Do you want me to put the kettle on?’
‘No, don’t worry, I might just pop upstairs, but just give me a shout if you need anything. I…’ Well, I didn’t get to finish my sentence. A sudden surge of nausea overtook me and I rushed out of the room, dashing to the loo promptly throwing up everywhere, cursing Max Golding as I did. Damn that man. As much as I loved him, if he had the ability to make me physically ill then I really needed to consider if he was good for my well-being.
Hot, sweaty and exhausted, I stayed curled over the toilet bowl feeling wretched. Later, after cleaning myself up, I climbed into bed, and closed my eyes for a moment, determined to shut out all thoughts of Max and Sasha. A ten-minute power nap would do me the world of good.
Fourteen
‘Oh shit!’ Two hours later I woke with a start. For the briefest, most blissful moment, just as I was coming to, the earlier events of the day escaped me, until the bombshell came crashing back into my world again.
Then something else dawned on me as I looked at the clock, I should have been downstairs five minutes ago for the meeting about the summer fair. To be honest, it was the last thing I needed, but duty called. I dashed into the bathroom, splashed my face with cold water, ran the brush through my hair and, looking at my reflection in the mirror, decided it would have to do.
‘Oh there you are, Ellie. We were just about to start without you. We do have rather a lot to get through this evening.’ I heard the admonishment in Josh's words, but chose to ignore it. I was still too caught up in thoughts of Sasha and Max.
A group of villagers had gathered around the long table in the back bar for the final planning meeting of the Little Leyton Summer Fair Committee. Josh Reynolds from the antiques shop, our Chairman, was presiding over the proceedings and I intended to hover in the background,
eager to hear about this year’s plans but also keeping an eye on the goings-on in the pub. We had a full house in tonight. The knitting group were in the front bar, their needles clicking in tune with their lively conversation. A bunch of my lovely regulars - not the same ones who I’d had my falling out with the other day - were propping up the bar discussing last night’s European football cup tie, and my parents’ neighbours from Ivy Lane Cottages, Paul and Caroline, were huddled together in the bay window peering over a laptop deciding on their next holiday destination. George Williamson was in as well, I noticed, occupied by a book and with a pint of beer at his side, giving out clear ‘please do not disturb me’ signals.
‘Right, well following on from our previous meeting,’ said Josh, addressing the table. ‘All the stallholders from last year have been contacted and all, without exception, have signed up to be part of this year’s festivities, which is good news. We’ve also got some first-timers coming along too, they’re all shown on the bottom of the list in front of you. New events include the fun dog show, do you want to say a bit about that, Ellie?’
I grabbed a copy of the list, Josh was referring to, from the centre of the table and forced myself to focus on the summer fair.
‘Oh, right, yes, er well it’s going to take place in the main arena, and all dogs are welcome. It will be a £1.00 entry for every class and we’re thinking of having six classes, most handsome boy, the prettiest dame, waggiest tail, best OAP for the over eight’s, best newcomer for the under two’s, something like that anyway, and then an overall best in show.’
‘Hmm, I haven’t got a dog, but I’m thinking I could enter my Steve in the best OAP class,’ said Betty Masters, chuckling.
‘That’s a bit unfair,’ said Tim Weston, editor of The Leyton Post and golfing buddy to Steve. ‘Don’t you think he’d be better suited to Most Handsome Boy?’
Betty grimaced exaggeratedly before saying, ‘Well that’s a matter of opinion. One thing I can tell you, he’s never going to qualify for waggiest tail, that’s for sure!’
‘Right, well moving on,’ said Josh, trying to bring back some order to the proceedings, as the table erupted into floods of laughter. ‘The other new event is the children’s fancy dress competition. I think there’s going to be a theme of some sort, but Ann Jones from the Mother and Toddler group can provide all the details,’ he said, gesturing in her direction. I sighed inwardly. I'd been trying to push all thoughts of Sasha and Max to the back of my head, but just the mention of a mother and toddler group could bring it to the forefront of my mind again.
Ann handed round some posters she’d prepared for the ‘Beneath the Sea’ competition which would go up around the village and in the local schools.
‘Good. Well, this looks splendid. The produce competitions will take place as usual in the village hall with plenty of different categories. Refreshments will be served there and on the Green. And I’m sure, as in previous years the pub will be doing its own brand of special hospitality throughout the day.’ Josh cast me a glance.
‘Oh yes, hopefully, and weather permitting, we’ll be out in the garden serving a selection of exotic summer cocktails, fruit punches and some special summers ales and ciders too, alongside our normal drinks obviously.’
‘Right, a reminder that the date of the fair has been brought forward this year and is now confirmed as the 21st of June. We will need to make sure that everyone is aware of the change.’
‘Well,’ grumbled Bill West, who hadn’t said a word up until now. ‘I don’t know what this nonsense is all about. It’s part of the Little Leyton tradition to have the fair over the bank holiday weekend in August. We’ve done it that way for years, so why change it now?’
‘I can understand your reservations, Bill,’ said Josh, ‘but as you know it’s something we’ve been considering for a while now. It was felt that it was too late on in the year and a lot of people were missing out because they choose to go away that particular weekend just before the schools go back in September. Bringing it forward we’re hoping more people will be able to attend. I have to say we’ve been very unlucky with the weather over that particular weekend too. Who knows, maybe June will be kinder to us.’
‘Pah!’ Bill was clearly not impressed. ‘We can’t rely on good weather anytime of the year and a bit of light rain never hurt anyone.’
That was true, I thought smiling, but in recent years we’d seen more than a bit of light rain. It was uncanny. Last year there’d been thunder, lightning and torrential rain, and the previous year had been a complete washout too with the grass becoming water-logged and swampy and a lot of stallholders throwing in the towel early to escape the miserable conditions. Then there was the year there’d been a terrible gale and the wind had ripped through the tents on the Green, sending plastic tables and chairs flying through the air. There’d been a lot of cursing then and a lot of laughter too as people chased across the grass attempting to retrieve their possessions. Ah, the joys of an English summer! Still, it had only proved to me one thing that I’d always known, that Little Leyton villagers were nothing if not hardy and stoical. A bit of bad weather couldn’t mar our enjoyment of what was one of the highlights on the Little Leyton social calendar. Still I was keeping my fingers crossed that this year the sun would actually shine on us for once.
With Josh working his way down the agenda at a steady pace, I slipped out of the room and popped behind the bar to check that Dan and Andy were coping okay, and with their reassurance that they were, I went through to the kitchen. Earlier in the day, before our fateful shopping trip, I’d prepared some trays of sandwiches and put them away in the fridge for later. Now I peeled off the cling film and carried the silver platters through to the back room, laying them down in the middle of the tables.
‘Oh, Ellie, you always look after us so well,’ said Mary, her eyes lighting up at the arrival of the food.
‘Has everyone got drinks?’ I asked. ‘I can make some teas and coffees if anyone would like one.’
‘No, come and sit down, Ellie,’ directed Josh, helping himself to an egg and cress on brown bread. ‘We’re just coming on to the evening celebrations. I think you probably know more about this than I do. First off, where is this shindig going to be taking place?’
‘Well, there’s good news on that front,’ I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Mary. ‘Max Golding has said we can use the grounds of Braithwaite Manor for the event. Becks’ Farm Shop have offered to provide a marquee and Max will take care of all the services to the tent, like power and electricity.’
‘Really? Well that’s splendid news.’
‘Yes.’ I nodded, agreeing, but I couldn’t help acknowledge the pang of sadness I felt inside. I’d been so excited when Max had agreed to my idea to hold the do at Braithwaite Manor, he hadn’t needed any persuading at all. Now, I wasn’t even sure we’d still be a couple by the time the summer fair rolled round.
‘Did someone mention it would be a barn dance with a hog roast?’ asked Mary.
‘Well that was one suggestion, but having asked around, the most popular idea seems to be a masked summer ball,’ I said, crossing my fingers behind my back. Now I had the perfect dress for the night I really didn’t want to have to change it, even if the very idea of the ball had lost some of its appeal now. ‘That’s if everyone here is in agreement, of course?’
‘Oh, I like that idea,’ said Mary.
‘Yes, I think Max’s place would lend itself wonderfully to a summer ball.’ I still had a job to do convincing the others that the ball was the right event for the occasion. ‘Imagine…’ I said, taking the opportunity to give my sales spiel, ‘… a sultry summer evening, fairy lights lining the pathway down to a billowing tent, everyone dressed up in the best clothes, sparkling wine flowing, music playing in the air and love and goodwill all around.’ I looked across at the faces of Bill, Tim and Josh, who were obviously not feeling it yet, and I wondered if my low mood was rubbing off on them. ‘No really, think
about it!’ I said, rallying. ‘It would be great fun.’
‘Yes, absolutely,’ said Ann, who was doing a great job as my wingman.
‘Well it sounds okay to me,’ said Betty. ‘A good excuse to get my posh frock out and I don’t get many of those opportunities these days.’
Bill shrugged noncommittally, which to be fair wasn’t a bad sign coming from him. ‘I’ve got a balaclava I could wear, would that do?’ he asked wryly. ‘To be honest, as long as I can get myself a few beers, then I don’t really mind what’s going on around me.’
‘Right, well are we all agreed on this idea of the ball then?’ Josh asked, his gaze casting around the table to be met by a muted, if resolute acceptance. ‘Okay splendid! A midsummer’s night ball, it is then.’
Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t be party to these conversations as I wasn’t actually a committee member, but ever since they’d been holding their meetings in the pub I’d become an honorary member, providing advice and suggestions when required, not to mention a lovely selection of sandwiches. Besides, I liked being in the thick of the action and knowing what was going on ahead of time.
Now, the discussion moved on to the catering – a three-course sit-down meal was the preferred option – and music – a live band playing a selection of old classics and some current pop favourites. Someone mentioned that Ryan Lockwood who worked at Becks’ Farm Shop played in a jazz funk band whose growing reputation was spreading around the county, so Ann was given the task of asking Ryan to see if they’d be available to play at the ball.
We were very lucky in Little Leyton to have a great number of talented and creative people to call on for support in providing both financial and practical help. The local butchers would supply the meat at cost price, the caterers were offering their services for free, and Polly had already agreed to provide some table flower arrangements at a knock-down price too.
After a bit of toing and froing, the ticket price for the summer ball was agreed upon and Mary jotted it down in the minutes.
Summer at the Dog & Duck Page 12