by Heidi Swain
‘You’re probably right,’ Jake shrugged, ‘don’t worry about it today.’
‘Should I come back and check later?’ I said, reluctant to leave.
‘There won’t be time,’ Jake reminded me. ‘Best just let nature take its course.’
I didn’t like the sound of that but knew we had to get ready for the fair.
‘How’s Pip this morning?’ I asked, finally tearing my eyes away from the chicks.
‘She’s fine,’ smiled Jake, ‘and so is Blaze. I still can’t believe it really. Kate’s going to be at the fair to help out with the gymkhana so she’s going to have another look at them when she gets a chance.’
He stopped for a second, his hand on the latch of the door and a faraway look in his eye.
‘Are you all right?’
Looking at him properly I could see dark circles under his eyes and his smile didn’t quite make it all the way from his mouth to his eyes. I’d expected him to be excited about the fair, especially now the day was here, the sun was shining and everything was good to go, but he looked more careworn than carefree.
‘I’m fine,’ he said unconvincingly, ‘really.’
‘Did you see Harriet?’
‘No,’ he said, turning to go, ‘not since last night. Come on, we’d better get ready.’
Chapter 20
Engulfed by fear, trepidation and excitement I soon forgot about the chicks and braced myself for whatever the day planned to throw at me. I’d never seen Annie so animated and excited and although I knew there was something not quite right with Jake, a definite something he wasn’t telling me, I was still delighted that Annie had the opportunity to enjoy the fair so close to home.
‘What’s up with you?’ she asked, watching me rub my neck and trying to stretch it back into a slightly less painful position.
I decided not to fill her in on the details of where I’d spent most of the night.
‘I think I must have slept funny,’ I said instead. ‘I’ve just got a bit of a stiff neck, that’s all. I’ll be fine.’
She abandoned folding her precious quilt so it was ready to take down to the marquee and began noisily rifling through the packed drawers of the old dresser.
‘I’ve just the thing,’ she said, scattering balls of twine and elastic bands far and wide. ‘This’ll sort you out.’
‘Oh no really,’ I said lightly in a vain attempt to shrug off the problem, ‘honestly, it isn’t all that bad.’
I couldn’t bear the thought of attending the fair with a wasp-attracting pineapple poultice or blueberry neck brace, or any of Annie’s concoctions strapped to me for that matter.
‘Aha!’ she announced triumphantly, tossing me a box that was agony to catch.
She went back to her folding and I examined what she had been looking for.
‘Ibuprofen,’ I laughed. ‘Really, Annie?’
She looked up and winked.
‘And there was you thinking I was going to send you to the fair with a fresh pig’s bladder draped around your shoulders!’
I popped two of the tablets out of the packet and gratefully swallowed them with a mouthful of water.
‘Mmm,’ I admitted, ‘I was thinking something along those lines.’
‘Give me some credit,’ she muttered, ‘we won’t try that until tonight.’
To see the meadows so miraculously transformed was, in my humble opinion, simply breathtaking and totally worth the endless phone calls and late nights that had accompanied taking the event on. The early mist that had played around the furthest reaches of the river, clinging to the banks and slipping under the hedges, had soon burnt off and the prospect of a gloriously sunny day stretched thankfully ahead.
Whereas the evening before everything had looked perfectly prepared but tranquil and still, the marquees poised for action and the white spray paint marking the spots for the various ice cream and crepe vendors to park, everything was now abuzz with frenetic activity. A small army of locals and members from various committees bustled about with tea urns and floral displays, raffle tickets and boxes of crockery and it was hard to imagine the transformed fields could ever have been earmarked for a quiet, empty summer.
Protectively I wrapped my hands around Annie’s old cake tin and in turn Annie clung fast to her treasured quilt as we searched for our respective areas in the big marquee. The bunting barely stirred under the immense canvas roof and the air inside was already bristling with more than the heat of just the sun.
‘Is that a cake?’ asked Jeannie Russell, one of the top ranking WI members who appeared as if from nowhere at my elbow and steered me quickly towards the baked goods table. ‘You’ll need to see Mrs Summers if you can find her,’ she said briskly, ‘she’s the one in charge.’
Inwardly I groaned at the sight of the white cloth covered trestle table already packed with cakes and biscuits of every description. It was immediately obvious that the Victoria sponge class was the most popular and, so obviously out of my depth, I wished with all my heart that I’d left my effort back in the kitchen. For the moment, Mrs Summers was nowhere to be seen.
‘Let’s find you a spot, dear,’ smiled Jeannie Russell, indicating a minuscule gap at the front.
‘No, no,’ I said, retreating, ‘I’ll just pop it at the back.’
I could feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes turn their attention from their own plates to mine as I popped the lid off the cake tin. Carefully and with shaking hands, I lifted out my cake and placed it amongst the others and, to be honest, in the cold light of day I didn’t think it looked too shabby.
‘Is that jam homemade?’ pounced one of the group.
‘Yes,’ I said, relieved that it was, ‘it’s Annie’s from last year.’
Every member of the group took a half a step back and there was even a sharp intake of breath from some. Immediately I recognised my mistake, but it was too late to retract my admission. Knowing who had made the jam I couldn’t imagine there would be any judge in the land brave enough to sample it and I was bitterly disappointed to have scuppered my chances with such a rash comment.
‘Doesn’t look too bad,’ said another of the group to her neighbour.
Her comment was met with a dismissive sniff and raised eyebrows and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease a little. Perhaps my humble cake wasn’t such a disaster after all.
‘And the jam looks all right,’ said another. ‘Surely not even Annie can get fruit and sugar wrong.’
A few minutes later we were all herded together and ushered back towards the meadow in preparation for the marquee doors to be closed so judging could commence. Considering I had absolutely no expectations of seeing a card anywhere near my plate I was certainly feeling the tension, and poor Annie, despite being an old hand at competing, looked on the point of collapse.
‘Come on,’ I told her as we linked arms, ‘let’s have a wander, get a breath of air and a bite to eat.’
We lingered as long as we dare at the other end of the marquee admiring the skilful array of crafts and seasonal produce on show. Beautifully smooth tablets of beeswax, any number of extravagant floral displays and, my particular favourite, comic knitted tea cosies made me rather pleased to find myself in the role of competitor as opposed to judge.
When I’d decided to abandon my cross-stitch entry I had felt a pang of guilt, but seeing the quality of everyone else’s stitches I was relieved. My jumbled little contribution would have been laughed off the table.
‘However will they decide?’ I said to Annie, torn between favouring a cupcake cosy over one in the shape of a gigantic striped bee.
‘Thank you, ladies,’ said a stern voice from the doorway of the marquee, ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurry you.’
Poker straight and infuriatingly slowly Annie, clinging to my arm a little tighter than was absolutely necessary I felt sure, slackened her pace. I could hear many a tut and sigh as we reached the canvas door, which was pulled tightly closed the second we were thro
ugh it.
‘So,’ said Jake and Harriet as they rushed up to us together, ‘how did you get on? How did it look compared to the others?’
‘Fine,’ said Annie, quickly recovering her airy, confident attitude. ‘I wouldn’t usually be so bold, but just between us I’ve got rather high hopes this year.’
Harriet rolled her eyes and Jake shook his head.
‘We were talking to Amber,’ Jake frowned, ‘as well you know!’
‘Oh, her cake fitted in a treat,’ she smiled, ‘didn’t it, dear?’
‘I hope so,’ I said nervously, fiddling with the waistband of my dress, ‘time will tell, I guess. Nothing I can do about it now.’
Having found Annie a seat in the shade where she could see both the show ring and the door to the marquee and plied her with yet more tea, Jake and I made our slow way round the field, welcoming the visitors to Skylark Farm and checking all was well amongst the vendors and groups who were adding the finishing touches to their stalls and displays.
‘Where’s Harriet disappeared to?’ I said, noticing that she’d slipped away.
‘Back to the plant stand I shouldn’t wonder,’ Jake confided.
‘I’m surprised she didn’t have a stand herself,’ I said, craning my now slightly less painful neck in the direction of the trade stands.
‘I think she’s rather sweet on the competition,’ Jake added with a wink, ‘so she’s decided to sit this one out.’
‘Oh really,’ I smiled, ‘you’ll have to point him out to me. She’s never mentioned she’s on the prowl for anyone in particular.’
‘Well,’ said Jake, discreetly nodding his head towards a pretty dark haired girl in the ice cream queue wearing a floral cotton frock similar to my own. ‘That’s Rachel. She’s the one Harriet’s on the prowl for.’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I see. Well, in that case she’s got very good taste then, hasn’t she? Rachel looks a bit of a stunner to me.’
‘Hmm,’ said Jake dreamily, ‘I’ve always thought so.’
‘Hey you!’ I laughed, digging him in the ribs.
We turned to see Jemma and Lizzie heading towards us. Lizzie was holding the hand of a very pretty little blonde girl and Jemma was pushing a pram from the depths of which I could see a pair of tiny hands and feet appearing and disappearing as the occupant kicked and punched the air.
‘Congratulations!’ beamed Jemma. ‘This all looks amazing. How lucky have you been with the weather?’
‘I know,’ said Jake with a grateful glance at the clear blue sky overhead. ‘To be honest that was my biggest concern, but this won’t change.’
‘Mummy,’ said the little girl tugging at Jemma’s skirt, ‘can I have an ice cream, please?’
‘Come with me,’ said Lizzie, ‘I’ll get you one. See you later, guys.’
‘Are you going to have a dance around the Maypole?’ Jemma called mischievously over her shoulder as she followed on behind her daughter and her best friend.
‘No,’ said Jake, ‘I think I’ll give it a miss this year, but Amber’s going to give it a go.’
‘No Amber is not,’ I gasped, cuffing him lightly. ‘No way.’
Before we knew it preparations for the first class of the dog show were well under way and a stealthy, but nonetheless vicious fight between two rival terriers had just broken out when Jake nudged me and pointed towards the marquee.
‘Time to discover your fate,’ he said with a wry smile as we watched the judges streaming out. ‘Do you want to hang back or get it over quickly?’
‘Look at Annie,’ I said pointing. ‘By the looks of it I’ll be taking the “getting it over quickly” option.’
Annie had already abandoned her chair and was gesturing wildly for me to join her. I took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of my dress. Considering I had convinced myself that taking part was just for fun and that it didn’t matter if my cake was placed or not, my heart was doing a miraculous job of suggesting otherwise.
‘Are you coming?’ I asked Jake, who didn’t budge when I started to move.
‘They let competitors in first,’ he explained. ‘I’ll wander over in a bit. Good luck,’ he added, planting a swift kiss on my cheek.
I still couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong with him, but there was definitely something. It was as if a thin mist had descended between us and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t push my way through it to reach the real Jake, the guy I had fallen in love with. He had held my hand, spoken to the visitors and sorted out the few inevitable niggles happily enough and if you’d asked anyone else what was wrong with him they would have all said ‘nothing’, but I knew. I knew something was bothering him.
‘All right,’ I smiled, conscious that I was keeping an impatient Annie waiting. ‘See you in a bit.’
The atmosphere inside the marquee had obviously been merely warming up before, because when we walked back in it was positively buzzing with high velocity electrical emotional charge.
‘That,’ said a woman as she stalked back outside, ‘is a total bloody travesty.’
She made no attempt to move aside as we passed one another and consequently she ended up practically shoulder barging me out of the way. Both momentarily halted we made eye contact for a split second and for some reason I was the one who said a hasty ‘sorry’, before she continued on her way towards the exit.
‘Who was that?’ I hissed at Annie.
‘I didn’t see. Come on,’ she said, plucking at my sleeve, her eyes focused on the table where she’d set up her quilt.
A small crowd had gathered there and they shuffled apart as we approached giving us a clear view.
‘Congratulations, Annie!’ called one of the group. ‘Lovely to have you back, my dear.’
A general murmur of appreciation and consent rippled through the assembled ladies and Annie proudly caressed the corner of her first place card.
‘Wouldn’t surprise me if you get the best in show rosette with that,’ chirped up another voice.
Annie turned, her face flushed with pride. She looked at me for less than a second and gave the merest trace of a wink.
‘Thank you, Bunty,’ she said graciously, ‘very kind of you to say so.’
Next it was my turn.
There was an even bigger crowd around the baked goods table and, if possible, the atmosphere surrounding cakes and fancies was even more highly charged than over at the crafts. Peering over the top of everyone I realised my cake was nowhere in sight and I hoped the mention of Annie’s jam hadn’t consigned it to the bin already.
‘Well done,’ said one of the women, ‘congratulations. We didn’t have you down as a baker.’
‘Oh yes,’ laughed another, ‘well done you! You’ve certainly stirred things up round here. It’s almost worth not being placed at all just to see the look on certain folks’ faces!’
Finally securing a full view of the table I spotted Annie’s pretty chintz plate nestled between first and third with my cake still on it.
‘You’ve come second!’ Annie cheered, clapping her hands together. ‘Oh Amber, well done!’
I stood and looked at her open mouthed and rooted to the spot. Not only was I stunned that I’d somehow managed to teach myself how to produce a prize winning cake, but also that it actually meant so much to win. I couldn’t help wondering what the old me would have thought of my domestic accomplishments. My London kitchen hadn’t seen any action beyond heating a bagel and providing my first caffeine hit of the working day.
‘Have you always baked, my dear?’
‘No,’ I choked, my throat tight and dry, ‘no. I only started about six weeks ago when I moved here with Jake.’
‘Even better,’ laughed the woman who first congratulated me. ‘Cat and pigeons springs to mind,’ she winked to her neighbour and together they went off giggling.
‘Come on,’ said Annie, ‘let’s go and find Jake and tell him the good news.’
The rest of the day passed in a blur. As predi
cted Annie was awarded best in show and we celebrated with a bottle of cordial and some sandwiches under the still cool shade of the willow trees next to the river.
‘Good idea putting these fences up,’ I said to Jake with a nod towards a group of young boys looking for a way down the bank.
‘Don’t even think about it!’ Jake called to them and they skulked off back towards the show ring looking downcast and disappointed. ‘I was rather hoping for a slice of prize winning cake,’ he smiled at me.
‘Entries have to stay put until the end of the day,’ Annie said drowsily from under the brim of her battered straw hat.
‘But won’t they dry out in the heat?’ Jake frowned, looking disappointed. ‘I want to sample second place at its absolute peak.’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that,’ I told him, ‘there’s loads back at the farm and I reckon they’re all pretty much as good.’
‘Oh, get her,’ said Harriet as she flopped down next to me on the blanket and planted a perfunctory kiss on my cheek. ‘There’ll be no living with her now!’
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ I blushed, embarrassed that she thought I was showing off.
‘I know you didn’t,’ she laughed, ‘I’m only teasing.’
‘You’re in a fine mood, aren’t you?’ I said, sitting up properly and looking at her sun-kissed face. ‘Anything to do with a certain Rachel by any chance?’
Harriet looked absolutely stricken and shot an accusing glance at Jake.
‘Wasn’t he supposed to say anything?’ I whispered, grabbing her hand. ‘God, Harriet, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I haven’t upset you, have I?’
‘Don’t you care then?’ she said, looking right back at me. ‘Doesn’t it matter to you that I . . . that I . . .’
‘That you what?’
Harriet didn’t say anything, but began furiously tearing at the grass around the edges of the blanket.
‘Like girls,’ I said in a low voice.
‘Yes,’ she said.
Her tone was almost challenging and she looked me in the eye for the merest second before snatching another handful of grass.