‘And despite the fact they were living in the same villa he managed to get away with it for a week. He’s now known as the bad boy of the nation,’ Freddie added. ‘Oh and he pranced around in these tight jeans for the three weeks he was on TV, so that helped his popularity.’
‘And he’s opening our village fête?’ Pippa’s voice was filled with disbelief. ‘Fred, you do know that most of the village are probably the same age as Hector’s grandparents. They’ll never know who he is and if they did they’d never approve.’
‘Yes I know, but as I said, he’s free, and you know how important it was for this fête to make money.’ Freddie put a good case forward. ‘His agent, a good friend of mine, is trying to show that he’s a nice guy, so when I said I could get him photographed with some nice old ladies, some cakes and maybe a donkey, they leapt at the chance, not to mention that he will talk about how he supports the animal sanctuary in interviews,’ Freddie explained. ‘Bella reckons she can get quite a lot of press out of it.’
‘Well, I guess that’s all good.’ Harriet was slightly unsure still.
‘But Parker’s Hollow Gazette is coming and I’m not sure if that’s the kind of publicity this Hector is after. What was Bella thinking?’ Pippa asked.
‘Maybe she thinks he’s well fit too,’ Gus finished. Harriet couldn’t help but think this was a disaster waiting to happen.
After breakfast, when they made their way to the fête site, one of the fields near the animal sanctuary, it was already a hive of activity. Stalls were being put up, the show ring was set up in the centre and it was already looking like a fête. Some of the animals in the adjoining fields ambled nearer to see what was going on; others, Elton and David, kept well away.
Thankfully, the sun was beginning to warm slightly. Yes, Pippa was right, the sky was still grey and rain threatened – but then this was the August bank holiday and Gus had said there hadn’t been a rain-free bank holiday that he could remember. But no matter what, they would all make sure it was a success, for their dad.
‘Dad, keep the rain way, please,’ Harriet said silently, staring at a cloud. If Andrew Singer was up there, she was pretty sure he could control the weather.
‘Hey, you OK?’ Connor appeared at her shoulder and gave her a hug. Yet again she tried to ignore the physical feelings that he was invoking in her. She had no way of dealing with them, apart from quashing them, and she hoped, prayed, that she was hiding them well.
‘Yes. I feel slightly redundant actually, today is Pippa and Freddie’s they’ve worked so hard, so I think I should possibly take a step back.’
‘Well, apart from hosting the dog show, I don’t have much to do, so maybe we can act as if we’re village fête goers.’
‘As long as you don’t win the Old Spice on the tombola,’ Harriet quipped.
‘I’ve got to go and feed some animals, you know, actual work, and then I’ll see you back here. It’s a date.’
She shook her head, it really wasn’t. Harriet wasn’t a teenager anymore, despite her feelings being a throwback to her youth. She knew full well what unrequited love looked like and felt like. Connor still treated her as the annoying girl he was far too fond of to say no to.
Whatever his feelings, or hers, it added up to the same thing – telling Connor, telling anyone, how she felt would end up with her being humiliated yet again. And Harriet was going to concentrate on a positive future. If there was love in it, then it would be with someone she hadn’t yet met. So it was time for her to move forward. She was worried that the situation with Zach and her job, the loss of her father, was what was making her so desperate to cling to the past. But now it was time to let go.
The fête committee were all here, excited and happy. John was in his morris-dancing regalia, Harriet suspected he liked to wear it a bit too much. The bake-off tent was bustling with activity. Gwen was helping to supervise and, as she felt it wouldn’t be right for her to enter the competition she was going to be one of the judges, along with Freddie because he really liked baked goods – which apparently qualified him – and of course the reality TV star who no one would have heard of. A sudden well of emotion opened up inside her: pride at what they had done, love for the unorthodox nature of the fête and the village and hope for the future. She looked at the sky and the sun miraculously appeared.
‘Thank you, Dad,’ she said, knowing, as an invisible warm blanket enveloped her, that he was here with them today.
Chapter 17
‘Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else,’ Hector Barber laughed. He certainly was ‘fit’ as Fleur had said. A besotted Fleur was standing next to Harriet as close as they could get to the stage which had been set up for the opening and prize-giving. It wasn’t a big stage, the O2 had nothing to worry about, and Hector, who was actually incredibly posh, seemed to fill it. Freddie and Hector’s agent huddled in the background and the whole of Parker’s Hollow crowded round, as if at a pop concert.
‘Who is he?’ Edie hissed from her place near the front.
‘He’s off the telly,’ someone else replied and that seemed to satisfy her.
‘I am delighted to be here today, in—’ He turned to look at his agent who mouthed something. ‘Parker’s Swallow, what a charming village you have. Yay!’ He cheered and some of the older ladies looked a bit flustered. Harriet could see why. He was tall, over six foot, with dark hair, muscles which did not just happen on their own, and he was wearing a pair of incredibly skinny, skinny jeans and a T-shirt which left nothing to the im- agination. His green eyes twinkled and although he was definitely too young for Harriet, and for most of the women here in fact, she could see the attraction.
‘Really, who is he?’ Connor, who had, as promised, shown up as her escort for the fête, asked.
‘Reality TV person.’ She whispered an explanation of the show in his ear.
Connor looked confused.
‘You mean he’s famous because he had sex on TV?’ he said far too loudly. Everyone turned to look at Connor. Hector coloured.
‘Well, you know there was more to it than that,’ Hector blustered. ‘I didn’t just do … well what you said. I do have other talents you know.’
‘Did you sing? Will you give us a song?’ a voice shouted.
‘Well, no I don’t sing.’ His face was almost the colour of Gwen’s home-made strawberry jam.
‘Ah, did you dance? Are you going to dance for us?’ another voice boomed out from the crowd.
Hector looked at his agent and Freddie, he was clearly not used to dealing with anyone but adoring girls.
‘He was very funny,’ Fleur piped up. ‘I mean, you were really good at making people laugh.’
‘Oh good, I love a comedian, like that Tommy Cooper, he was my favourite. Tell us a joke.’
Harriet almost felt sorry for Hector, as did Freddie who quickly rushed to join him at the mic.
‘Hector will tell jokes later, if you’re all very lucky. In the meantime we need him to open the fête so we can start the festivities.’
‘Thank you.’ Relief hugged his words. ‘I am so delighted to be here, in your lovely village. I am also touched to be an ambassador for the wonderful animal sanctuary at Meadowbook.’ He turned again to his agent for approval.
‘Meadowbrook,’ his agent said.
‘Of course.’ Hector grinned. ‘I knew that.’
‘He’s an ambassador now? I didn’t agree that,’ Connor hissed in Harriet’s ear but she shushed him.
‘So, without further delay or singing, dancing or jokes, it gives me immense pleasure to announce the great Meadowbrook Summer Fête open.’
The crowd cheered and suddenly everyone was a Hector Barber fan.
‘What a lovely young man,’ Edie said. ‘I’m going to make sure I get a photo later. Not every day you meet someone off the telly, and even if he did have sex, it’s not to be sniffed at.’ She walked off happily. Connor, Harriet, Fleur and Gus all gaped after her, speechless.
‘I was always be
tter at the coconut shy than you were,’ Harriet teased as Connor missed again.
‘I just let you win, that’s all,’ he replied, good-naturedly.
‘Were we competitive as children?’ Harriet asked.
‘You were, you couldn’t bear to lose anything, I was more laid-back, hence the fact I let you win.’ He aimed a ball and hit a coconut as if to illustrate the point.
‘God, I was a nightmare,’ Harriet said.
‘Was?’
‘Thanks, Connor.’
‘Look, Harry, I always adored you no matter that you were bossy, competitive and always right.’
‘Thank you.’ She tried to choose her words carefully, she was terrified that she was going to say the wrong thing and ruin the friendship they were building. ‘I am still bossy, according to the others, and competitive, and if I was allowed to access my redundancy money, I’d probably spend it all trying to win a coconut right now, but I am certainly not always right. Sometimes I wonder if I ever am.’
‘Now that doesn’t sound like the Harriet Singer I used to know.’
‘She’s gone. Not completely, but a bit. Anyway, shush, I have to do this.’ She took aim at the coconut, and threw. The coconut wobbled and then fell down. ‘First time, eat my dust,’ she taunted.
‘No, not completely gone at all,’ Connor laughed.
‘Sit, Hilda,’ Fleur was saying as Harriet silently cheered them on. She was rooting both for her niece and Hilda right now, as Fleur was trying to lead Hilda round the agility course that Connor had set up. It was simple, but most of the dogs were more interested in wagging their tails than doing as they were told. Fleur had a pocketful of Hilda’s favourite treats, yet she was still refusing to cooperate.
‘That dog reminds me of you,’ Gus said.
‘Thanks, Gus.’ Harriet narrowed her eyes. A shaggy, disobedient sheepdog wasn’t the most flattering thing she could be compared to.
‘She’s as stubborn as you,’ Freddie added.
‘She’s a star,’ Pippa said. Mark was standing by her side, as promised.
Just then Hilda looked right at Harriet and broke free from Fleur, bounding over.
‘Hilda, you’re meant to be winning a rosette,’ Harriet chastised as she petted her. ‘Sorry, Fleur.’
‘You know she wasn’t this bad in rehearsal.’ Fleur rolled her eyes but then she gave Hilda a treat regardless.
‘Right, well put your hands together for Fleur and Hilda,’ Connor said, before going on to introduce the next contestant. Everyone clapped politely, although Hilda hadn’t done anything at all.
‘Hello.’ Hector approached with his agent, Greg, who slapped Freddie on the back.
‘How’s it going?’ Freddie asked.
‘Fantastic,’ Greg replied. ‘We’ve taken some photos with a couple of old dears, and in the cake tent, on the coconut shy, and also having a go on the tombola.’
‘Did you win anything?’ Freddie asked.
‘Yes, a tin of Spam,’ Hector replied, looking slightly bemused.
‘Um, can I take a photo with you?’ Fleur asked, blushing furiously.
‘Sure thing, love.’
‘She’s twelve,’ Gus said.
‘Yes but, dear brother, twelve is legal to have a photograph taken,’ Freddie teased.
‘Just keep your hands where I can see them,’ Gus said.
Fleur insisted on taking the photos herself on her phone – it had to be a selfie apparently – and then Hilda got in on the act. Facebook, or sorry, Insta, would be busy tonight, Harriet thought, glancing fondly at her niece. Oh to be that age again. If only she could go back, she would definitely not have messed her life up so spectacularly. Embarrassed at the force of her thoughts, she turned her attention to the dogs again.
Hector was being approached by Gus’s gardening club ladies now.
‘Hector, we’d like a photo with all of us,’ Margaret said. ‘But do you think you can take your T-shirt off? It’s just we googly’d you to see who you were and you have got quite a nice chest.’
At least Hector was obliging, Harriet thought as he whipped his T-shirt off and, surrounded by ten swooning old ladies, Freddie took a number of photos as Hector posed patiently, charming the women as he did so.
‘Gosh,’ Hector said, once they’d gone. ‘I thought the girls at the PAs I do at the clubs were bad but these ladies act as if they’d eat me alive.’
‘Oh they most certainly would,’ Harriet replied with a laugh.
‘Now you could eat me alive any day.’ Hector suddenly snatched Pippa’s hand and held onto it.
Pippa blushed, Mark looked incredibly uncomfortable.
‘That’s my wife,’ he stated.
‘Sorry, old chap, I thought she was your daughter,’ Hector replied, non-plussed.
Mark suddenly looked murderous, as Pippa quickly dragged him away, which was lucky as the rest of them couldn’t hide their sniggers.
‘She’s probably a bit old for you,’ Fleur said, sounding a little jealous. ‘She’s my aunt and she’s almost thirty.’
‘Nah, not too old at all, I’m twenty-five and I like the older ladies.’
They crammed into the tent for the results of the Meadowbrook bake-off. Gwen had taken her job as judge seriously; Harriet couldn’t say the same for Freddie and Hector, who just seemed to eat a lot. Hector seemed to be relishing his role as the celebrity guest, as he picked up the microphone.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great honour of announcing the first ever winner of the Meadowbrook Bake-Off—’ He broke off and turned to his agent. ‘Do you think we could get in touch with the real Bake-Off people? I didn’t realise how much I liked baked goods.’
‘I’ll pop it on the list. If we do a photo, and hashtag #hectorbarberforbakeoff, you never know,’ Greg replied.
‘Can we get on with it?’ Gwen asked, good-naturedly.
‘Of course, so without further ado. In third place is,’ he squinted at the paper in front of him, ‘Mrs Wells with her show-stopping gingerbread recreation of Meadowbrook Manor.’ He began clapping and the packed tent cheered. It actually looked like a normal gingerbread house and nothing like Meadowbrook, but Freddie, as he handed over the certificate, praised her creative thinking. ‘In second place, with the tastiest chocolate cake I have ever tasted, is Simon someone.’
Simon, a man who Harriet had never met, stepped forward.
‘It’s Simon Torque,’ he said, shaking hands with Hector and taking his certificate.
‘Couldn’t read the bloody writing,’ Hector complained. ‘Anyway, the big prize. Well, it is my honour to announce the winner of the Meadowbrook Bake-Off is Hilary, the vicar’s wife.’
As the tent erupted in cheers, Harriet blinked in disbelief. It wasn’t the most professional, but as Hilary ran to grab the trophy that Freddie had managed to get for free, she didn’t seem to care.
After a lengthy speech where she thanked her husband, most of the village, her grandmother for teaching her how to make quiche, and shed a few tears, it was finally over. However, when Freddie tried to get the trophy back off her to get it engraved, there was a bit of a tussle.
The raffle was drawn – also by Hector – who pulled John the vicar’s ticket out first and after a ten-minute argument about how he couldn’t possibly accept it, he finally took the hamper with aplomb, before donating it to the local community group.
As Harriet and Connor watched the morris dancers closing the fête with an enthusiastic stick-thumping, knee-shaking performance, she felt a bit sad it was over. It had been a perfect day, even the mishaps had added to the charm and she knew her father would be proud.
Later, when she had taken Hilda back to the dog home, she felt her usual pang at leaving her, but at the same time she needed to go home. She was exhausted, it had been a very, very long day. But a fabulous day and one her father would have enjoyed greatly. She wished, with all her heart, that he had been here. As she walked back to Meadowbrook, a single white feather appeared in
her path and she wondered, not for the first time if he was here after all.
‘I propose a toast,’ Harriet said that evening. They were all in the drawing room, along with Gwen and Connor. They’d eaten leftovers from the fête, quiche, sausage rolls, all manner of cakes and scones, and as the fête had been such hard work for Gwen, she hadn’t even tried to argue. Harriet had put some of her father’s vintage champagne in the fridge, so they could toast their success in style.
The fête had been amazing. Everyone agreed it was a wonderful day and that Andrew Singer would have been so proud of his children. Harriet, being the self-appointed financial director, hadn’t yet had time to count all the money, but the high attendance meant that they expected to have made a tidy sum for the animals, and Hector had given them a generous donation – a thousand pounds. He’d been promoting a manly fake tan, which paid ridiculously well. Connor kept muttering that he was in the wrong job, but he accepted the cheque and the publicity photos that came with it, almost in good grace. Connor couldn’t quite let go of his disbelief that a man who had sex with three women on television was able to earn money off the back of it. His reaction had just endeared him to Harriet even more, irritatingly she found his naivety about the modern world very attractive.
‘So,’ Harriet continued, champagne saucer held high, ‘I think the toast should be firstly to Freddie and Pippa. You guys pulled off such an impressive and wonderful Meadowbrook fête. Honestly we are all so bloody proud of you, and I know Dad would be too.’ Emotion stuck in her throat for a moment. ‘Here’s to Freddie and Pippa and the best Meadowbrook summer fête so far.’
‘To Pippa and Freddie,’ they all echoed.
‘And how lucky were we that the rain stayed away?’ Connor added. ‘Maybe we should toast that.’
‘I expect your father had a hand in that,’ Gwen said, quietly. ‘He always seemed to be able to control everything, why not the weather?’ She grinned. As Harriet had thought the same earlier, she squeezed Gwen’s hand.
‘We were lucky that Hector went down so well, pardon the pun,’ Gus said. Fleur giggled.
A Year at Meadowbrook Manor Page 16