Authors: Elizabeth Oldfield
Also, it had helped that when he and his sister had first come to visit, I had suggested they bring Ronaldo, served lamb for dinner and afterwards given the dog the bone. As no lamb bones were available at home, it was a treat he had relished. Later I had bought him pigs’ ears in a packet and a rubber chicken. The rubber chicken was a particular hit. It’s kept in a polybag behind the cloakroom door and whenever Ronaldo arrives he goes crazy wanting to get at it. Yes, I can be accused of bribing my way into Paul’s affections, but we all resort to subtle bribery at times. Don’t we?
I was reflecting on how fortunate Steve and I were that our families got along, when the ageing pop star appeared before me. He wore a black shirt with a blue leather suit, the trousers of which were strained tight around the bulging globe of his stomach. His bleached blond hair, which was as soft and fluffy as a feather duster, showed patches of bright pink scalp. Had it never occurred to him that for a man drawing his old age pension, he looked foolish?
‘Hey, Carol, how’re you doin’?’ he asked, grabbing hold of my hand and shaking it.
Both the mid-Atlantic accent and the mateyness were fake. Although, long ago, I had interviewed him, we were not on first name terms. A humourless character, he kept himself aloof from the village’s events and when asked to lend his presence, or give a donation to projects, he always refused. Indeed, that he should have come to the fête was surprising.
‘I’m well,’ I replied.
‘Understand it’s you, gal, who’s responsible for the special guests being here today and wondered if you had a famous name lined up to open the fête next year?’
‘We haven’t thought that far ahead,’ I told him.
‘Then how’s about yours truly does it?’ he said, and broke off to spread his chunky thighs and play a snatch of air guitar. Oh dear! ‘Having had Tina and Max, you’ll be wanting someone with a following, with status,’ he continued. ‘A guy who’ll rock the chicks.’
I stage-managed a smile. ‘Thanks for the offer. I’ll bear it in mind.’
While the guy might still attract a small coterie of elderly hippies, he no longer possessed any status. And had never displayed much musical ability. His finest five minutes had been in the Sixties, when he had pranced to the front of his group and emitted a few ‘bim-bams’ and ‘ya-da-der-da-doos.’ It must be twenty years since he had made a record and even longer since he had had a hit. He would rock the chicks? When I’d mentioned his name to Melanie, she had never heard of him.
‘Please do,’ he said, and moved as if to make another grab for my hand.
I stepped back. A fire engine was drawing in off the road and onto the grass, and I pointed towards it. ‘Excuse me. Must go and speak to the fire-fighters. Bye.’
As small children were lifted up into the cab of the fire engine and allowed to sound the horn, I chatted with a couple of the guys who had run in the marathon. They had told me about another charity race they would be entering, when I saw Lynn, Justin and Beth. After jotting down details of the race and asking the firemen to keep me informed, I went over.
‘It’s a lovely day,’ Lynn remarked, when we’d exchanged hugs and kisses, and I had assured Beth that Debbie was somewhere around. ‘I hope it’s sunny like this for our wedding.’
‘My fingers are crossed,’ I told her.
After much scouring of the area for a venue, the reception was to be held at Garth House. This was thanks to Jenny, who had swiftly advised of a cancellation, and to Tom who would be footing the bill.
I bent down to Beth. ‘Are you looking forward to wearing your pretty dress at the wedding?’
The little girl gave a solemn nod. ‘Yes. And I’m looking forward to having a new baby brother or a new baby sister.’
I jerked upright. ‘A new baby? When?’
Justin laughed. ‘Relax. We haven’t jumped the gun again.’
‘We don’t know when,’ Lynn said. ‘All we know is that we’d very much like one, just as soon as we’re married.’
‘It’s about time I had a second great-grandchild,’ a voice declared.
My father was stood behind us. He looked smart in a beige suit and straw panama, and was holding hands with a silver-haired woman. When I had called in to see him earlier in the week, he had told me that he and Marie would be visiting the fête. But the woman was not Marie.
He ruffled Beth’s hair in greeting, then indicated his companion. ‘I’d like you all to meet my friend, Grace, who has recently moved into Bridgemont. Grace, this is –’ He introduced us, one by one.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. Short, plump and dressed in a modest cream two-piece, Grace had a friendly manner.
‘Do you come from around Dursleigh?’ I asked.
‘No, no, I’m a West Country lass. For years my husband and I ran a restaurant there. I did the cooking –’
‘Won awards for it, too,’ my father inserted.
‘– and my husband looked after everything else. But, sadly, a year or so ago he died and I decided to move near to my son. He lives a few miles away from here, runs his own painting and decorating business.’
‘You could ask Grace’s son if he would decorate your flat for you, Granddad,’ Lynn suggested, and slid me a smile.
We had discussed the way he benefited from his ladyfriends’ various talents and his fondness for a bargain, but here was a woman who, it appeared, could offer combined attractions.
‘It’s already arranged. I’m on his list for September and, very kindly, he’s giving me a discount,’ he replied, positively smirking.
I raised my brows. ‘Lucky you.’
‘Grace is a bit of a bookworm, like me,’ my father continued, ‘and I’ve told her about the paperbacks which Jenny’s charity shop sells. Didn’t you say they were running a stall here today?’
‘It’s beyond the stage.’ I pointed. ‘Jenny’s there now, with Eileen.’
He pulled a face. ‘Don’t care for Eileen. If I’m ever in the shop and we’re on our own, she gives me the glad eye something cruel.’
‘The hussy!’ Grace exclaimed, as disapproving as my mother.
‘I see Steve is doing his stuff. Steve is Carol’s significant other,’ my dad informed Grace. ‘That’s him, escorting Tina and Max. Tall chap with the dark hair. He’s the editor of
The Dursleigh Siren
and a real bright spark. Not been with the paper six months, but has already achieved a useful increase in sales. The proprietor, posh chap with a double-barrelled name, thinks he’s the bee’s knees.’
‘Do you and Steve enjoy working together?’ Grace asked me.
I smiled. ‘Very much.’
‘That’s nice. My husband and I always did.’ She glanced towards the Rotarians’ barbecue. ‘Shall we have something to eat, George?’
My father nodded. ‘If you wish.’ He bent to kiss Beth, kissed Lynn and me, and shook hands with Justin. ‘Be seeing you.’
As they walked away, Lynn chuckled. ‘A demon producer of fine food who has a painter and decorator son who’s been persuaded to do a cut price job,’ she said. ‘Beat that.’
‘How about a cooking-obsessed masseuse with a banker son and a car mechanic nephew?’ I suggested. ‘Plus a daughter who sews inexpensive curtains.’
‘Who owns a holiday villa in the Algarve,’ Justin tacked on. ‘And can get cheap flights.’
‘That’d be competition,’ Lynn admitted.
‘When can I have my face painted?’ Beth enquired, looking along to the stall.
‘How about now?’ Justin suggested.
She jiggled with excitement. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Coming to watch your granddaughter being transformed into a whiskery kitten?’ Lynn asked me.
I shook my head. ‘I’ll wait for the finished product. I need to check on Jenny and see if she needs rescuing from Eileen’s conversation.’
‘I don’t want to be a kitten,’ Beth announced, as they departed. ‘I want to be Spiderman. Or shall I be a dragon? Or–’
At the charity stall, many of the cards and toiletries had been sold, but a fair number of the second-hand items, including most of the books, remained.
‘Hardly anyone’s even glanced at them,’ Jenny complained.
Eileen sighed. ‘Looks like I’ll be carting them all back to the shop on Monday.’
‘Do not despair,’ I told them. ‘My father and his new girlfriend will be along soon and, if you knock the price down low enough, he could take the lot.’
Eileen frowned, as though lowering the price did not appeal, then, as a barrel-chested man in shorts walked by, dashed out to confront him. ‘Interested in a good read?’ she demanded.
He tugged at his shorts, which were belted beneath his stomach. ‘Well –’
‘Your father has a new girlfriend?’ Jenny asked me quietly, and while the old lady was hard-selling to her customer, I explained.
‘Would you like to take a breather? Say, half an hour?’ Eileen suggested to Jenny, when the man, who reluctantly purchased a couple of books, had made his escape. A loudspeakered announcement had advised the imminent start of the Morris dancing and people were deserting the stalls. ‘Looks like we’re in for a lull, so now would be a good time.’
‘Thanks, I will. Fancy something to eat?’ Jenny asked me.
‘I can recommend the curry,’ Eileen piped up. ‘I had some earlier and it really tickled the tastebuds.’ She giggled. ‘Likewise those young Indians.’
‘A drink and a sandwich will suit me,’ I said.
Jenny nodded. ‘And me.’
We were nearing the beer tent when we heard our names being called. Turning, we saw Tina hobbling awkwardly towards us.
‘Walking on grass in brand new stilettos isn’t easy and my feet are killing me,’ she said. ‘Is there somewhere I could sit down?’
‘Come with us,’ I said, and directed her into the marquee. ‘How about a drink?’ I suggested, when the three of us were sitting on green plastic chairs around a green plastic table.
The Morris dancers must have attracted a large audience, for the marquee was almost empty. Several tables away, a couple were cooing over a baby in a pushchair, while a trio of men consumed beer beside the back counter.
‘I’d like an apple juice,’ Tina said. She had removed her shoes and was gratefully wiggling her toes.
‘And a sandwich? Ham or prawn or cheese and tomato or egg with mayonnaise?’ I was reading from the menu board.
‘Ham, please.’
‘For you, Jen?’
‘The same.’
I had bought the sandwiches and bottles of apple juice, together with ice in glasses, and was returning to the table when a chubby young woman peered in through the tent flap, then walked hesitantly towards us.
‘I hope you don’t mind and I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you think I could have your autograph?’ she asked Tina. ‘My boyfriend and I watch you on TV and we think you and Max are like such a wild pair and like really, really brilliant at aerobics. My boyfriend hopes that when I get older I’ll look like you. But I should be so lucky.’
Tina smiled. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said and signed the piece of paper which had been offered.
‘Thank you, thank you. I shall keep this for ever,’ the young woman gabbled, then she rushed back outside.
‘I know you’ve been constantly signing autographs today, but do you often get asked?’ Jenny enquired.
‘It never stops,’ Tina said. ‘Wherever I go and whatever I do, I always seem to be recognised by someone.’
‘It’s the burden of fame,’ I remarked.