The Big Little Festival
Kellie Hailes
‘The perfect book for the summer!’ – Karen Whittard (NetGalley Reviewer)Love happens when you least expect it…Jodi is panicking. It’s only weeks until her little village in Devon holds its first ever festival and everything is falling apart.Desperate to avoid disaster, she brings in notorious party planner Christian to save the day. Although she wasn’t prepared for just how gorgeous he wuold be!Men are off the cards for Jody and surely Christian is the last man she would ever date? But with tensions rising – along with the bunting and homemade scones – she’s about to find out…Perfect for fans of Caroline Roberts, Cathy Bramley and Heidi Swain.
The little village where love blooms…
With only weeks until the little Devon village of Rabbits Leap holds its first ever festival, Jody McArthur is desperate. She – more than anyone – wants to raise the funds to rebuild the local swimming pool as, when she fell pregnant with her twin boys, it was the villagers who were there to support her. So, to stop disaster in its tracks, she brings in bigshot London events manager Christian Middlemore to make The Big Little Festival the huge success everyone deserves.
But Jody is totally unprepared for the impact reserved-but-gorgeous Christian has on Rabbit’s Leap – and her heart! Except Jody has avoided relationships for so long, and anyway, she’s sure romance between a country-born-and-bred single mum and a career-focused city boy would be impossible – wouldn’t it?
As tensions rise along with the home-baked scones and miles and miles of bunting, Jody is about to find out!
Join the whole village at The Big Little Festival for the perfect summer day out! The second book set in the picture-perfect Rabbits Leap… perfect for fans of Cathy Bramley, Holly Hepburn and Cressida McLaughlin.
Also by Kellie Hailes (#ulink_4e87a5da-dbb6-5d47-a7cb-625231d98bef)
The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises (Rabbits Leap, Book 1)
The Big Little Festival
Kellie Hailes
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
At the age of five, KELLIE HAILES declared she was going to write books when she grew up. It took a while for her to get there, with a career as a radio copywriter, freelance copywriter and web writer filling the dream-hole, until now. Kellie lives on an island-that’s-not-really-an-island in New Zealand with her patient husband, funny little human and neurotic cat. When the characters in her head aren’t dictating their story to her, she can be found taking short walks, eating good cheese and jonesing for her next coffee fix.
To all those who read, blogged, tweeted and showed support for The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises, thank you, thank you, thank you. Your love for Rabbits Leap means the world to me, and I really can’t thank you enough. Here’s a few more though… thank you, thank you, thank you!
To my husband. Thanks for your continued support, and for putting up with the clickety clack of the keyboard going off in your ear during early mornings and into the depths of night.
Natalie Gillespie. What would I do without you? Every single time I ask ‘how do you say this in England’ you put me right and correct my Kiwi-isms. Bless your cotton socks.
To my wonderful editor, Victoria Oundjian. Your suggestions, your advice, your thoughts are invaluable. You’re a treasure, and working with you is truly a pleasure.
For Daisy,
I love you to the ends of the ever-expanding universe.
Contents
Cover (#ud110cff7-8ca7-51ca-b1cb-709b7a770328)
Blurb (#u9d562b66-9f50-5f05-8c53-0b28c02320d7)
Book List (#ulink_57fb20db-c39a-5174-8151-48a4b631280e)
Title Page (#u063ab581-8fcd-57c5-9ad0-103ef01e36d5)
Author Bio (#ue5960577-d9a8-5f4f-9a56-0e558f041bd4)
Acknowledgements (#ube12ef77-9f90-578d-b9fa-eea7f5571742)
Dedication (#uf3876cde-f2cc-5346-af7c-d669994fbf2e)
Chapter One (#ulink_c9094cc5-f30c-5920-9e8b-9080fdaa2b93)
Chapter Two (#ulink_960859f2-d943-5496-9808-6c972e114bbe)
Chapter Three (#ulink_8cea0ca3-a744-5b37-a14e-8af60270f204)
Chapter Four (#ulink_6373bc7e-17a4-5bdb-8a45-5d7f1a09401b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1066436d-cef4-54ee-961b-dadd1ba2b619)
Let’s have a festival, they said. It’ll be great for the town, they said. You’re head of the PTA, you’ll make a great festival committee head, they said.
Finally, she’d thought, relief easing the ever-present guilt that years ago had settled in the back of her mind, and deep in her heart. The chance I’ve been waiting for to right my wrongs.
Jody sank back into the village hall’s burnt-orange-coloured plastic chair and resisted the urge to bang her forehead repeatedly on the dirty, cream-coloured foldaway table before her. She’d known taking on the festival was going to be a big job, but she’d had no idea just how big. The admin alone was mind-boggling, but it was a walk in the park compared to dealing with the two women sitting before her.
‘People. Won’t. Come. If. We. Don’t. Have. Clowns.’ With every word, Shirley Harper banged the table with the flat of her palm, as if hoping she might knock some sense into her fellow festival committee members.
‘People. Won’t. Come. If. We. Do. Have. Clowns.’ Marjorie Hunter jabbed the air in Shirley’s direction, punctuating her point. ‘Clowns. Scare. People.’
Jody rubbed her temples, hoping to ease the throb that appeared every time they held a meeting. ‘What if we had one clown? A friendly looking one. They could juggle, make balloon animals. Do magic tricks?’ She put the idea out there and prayed it would stick.
‘One clown makes us look cheap.’ Mrs Harper folded her arms across her bosomy chest. ‘And we don’t do cheap in Rabbits Leap.’
Jody stifled a snort. Rabbits Leap didn’t do cheap? Since when? The town had been living on a shoestring for as long as she could remember. That was until her brother, Tony, and his fiancée, Mel, had breathed life into the old pub and attracted the attention of outsiders. Their success had seen the whole town wanting a bit of the action, and they’d decided the five-hundredth anniversary of the Rabbit Revolt was the perfect opportunity to bring people into the village – in the form of a festival. A way to bring money into businesses while fundraising to revive the community pool.
‘Are you sure we don’t do cheap, Shirley?’ Mrs Hunter’s eyes widened. An innocent look that belied the snide tone of her words. ‘Because those court shoes of yours hardly look like they’ve come from some fancy high-end store. Or maybe they did and I didn’t realise scuffed vinyl was in fashion…’
Mrs Harper’s chest puffed out in outrage. ‘I always thought you were a bit of a hoity-toity co—’
‘Ladies, ladies…’ Jody raised her hands in the hope of bringing the sniping to a halt. ‘Let’s not let something that’s meant to be fun become the opposite. We’re all friends, remember? And if we’re not friends, we’re still neighbours and we still have to—’
‘You two. Get off there. At once.’
The authoritative voice rumbled through the hall’s open doors, stopping Jody’s attempt at peacemaking in its tracks. She knew immediately who the directive was aimed at.
Oh God, what had the boys done now?
Jody scraped the chair back. The ugly screech of metal legs on wood had the unexpected affect of stopping Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter from staring at each other mutinously, instead making them turn their attention to her.
‘I’ve got to go check on the boys. I’ll be back. Play nice,’ she ordered as she stalked out of the gloomy hall into the bright summer sun and hurried across the road to the park where she’d left the boys to play during the meeting.
‘If you two don’t get off there right now I shall come over and take you down myself.’
Jody broke into a trot. There was no way she was letting anyone touch her boys, whether they were misbehaving or not.
‘What’s going on over there?’ she called out, slowing down as she approached the back of Tyler and Jordan’s accuser – tall, broad shouldered and far too well dressed, in a crisp white polo shirt and khaki-coloured tailored cargo shorts, to be a local.
‘These two are climbing all over that sculpture. What if they damage it? Where are their parents? And shouldn’t they be in school?’
Jody stifled a snort as she looked at the ‘artwork’. The boys were hardly going to damage it considering it was made from stainless steel and built to withstand at least ten times their weight. When the parish council had decided to turn an empty lot into a communal area for people to relax or have picnics, she’d offered to donate an artwork that not only represented Rabbits Leap but also doubled as a piece of playground equipment. Why slide on a slide when you could slip down the back of a big steel rabbit in mid leap?
‘Do you know who they are? Can you get them off?’
The stranger turned to face Jody. His coffee-coloured eyes blazed with intensity, wiping the amused grin off her face. Who was this man, with those eyes that could pin a woman to a wall, lush lips that looked entirely too kissable, and… and why was she thinking about him like this? She didn’t do that. She’d trained herself to see men as women with an extra appendage. They weren’t sexy. She didn’t want to kiss them. And pinning her to the wall was out of the question.
Jody swallowed, hoping the act would return moisture to her parched throat. Return sanity. No such luck.
She forced herself to look away from the man, who was unknowingly questioning her parenting ability, and turned her attention to the boys.
‘Boys! You get your little backsides off there, right this instant.’ She watched the stranger’s reaction out of the corner of her eye as her mum-tone caught Jordan and Tyler’s attention.
‘Do we have to?’ Jordan pouted.
‘The slide’s the best thing about this park.’ Tyler made no effort to get down, and instead clambered up towards the top of the rabbit and sat between its ears.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t make me tell you twice.’
‘Oh, so these are your charges? You’re their nanny?’
Jody mashed her lips together and forced the laugh down. Nanny? Who had nannies in Rabbits Leap? Seriously, what world did this guy come from?
‘I’m their something,’ she replied, trying to keep a straight face.
One thump. Another. Followed by the soft patter of bare feet on lush green grass.
‘Mum.’ Jordan folded his skinny arms across his thin chest in disapproval. ‘You suck. That rabbit’s the only thing to play on.’
‘Yeah, you suck.’ Tyler echoed his older-by-four-minutes brother and drove the heel of his foot into the lawn, putting a dent in the turf. ‘There’s nothing else to do. We tried lying on the grass and making up cloud animals, but it got boooooring. Besides, it’s not a “sculpture”, it’s a slide. We’re allowed to play on it.’
‘You’re their mother?’ The handsome interloper turned towards Jody, his head angled in surprise. ‘You hardly look old enough. And are you going to just let that one tear up the grass?’
Jody drew in a breath in an attempt to keep her cool. ‘I’m well old enough, thank you very much.’ She raised a warning eyebrow at Tyler, who stilled his feet with an unimpressed glare.
‘You see, with the festival nearly here, everything must look perfect...’ The stranger stopped, and then took a step back. ‘Which is why I’m here, and I’m looking for someone. I don’t suppose you know Jody McArthur and where I could find her?’
Jody wavered between telling a lie and sending the man on his way, or telling the truth and having him save her bacon. An outraged squawk floated on the warm breeze from the direction of the hall. Damn it. She’d have to tell the truth.
‘Christian Middlemore, I presume?’
His eyes flared in surprise. ‘And you’ve come to this conclusion how?’
‘You’re the man who’s going to sort out this crazy festival mess we’ve got ourselves into. And I’m Jody McArthur, sculptor of that “damn rabbit”, and head of the festival committee.’ She thrust her hand forward. ‘I’m relieved to meet you.’
Christian’s lips parted in shock. ‘You? It was you who built that?’ He looked up at the ten-feet-tall rabbit, and then down at her, his eyebrow cocked in suspicion.
A knot of irritation formed in Jody’s stomach. Sure, she wasn’t Amazonian in height, but she was a respectable five-feet-six and knew her way around scaffolding.
She dropped her unshook hand to her side. ‘Yes, I sculpted it. You think I would lie?’ She gritted her teeth. What had she been thinking, bringing in this arrogant arse? Worse, using her own money – another act of quiet penance – to do it. Maybe the best idea would be to send him back to London. She’d just have to put her foot down and sort the festival out with an ‘it’s my way or the highway’ speech to the two Mrs H’s. ‘Look, Mr Middlemore…’
‘Call me Christian.’
‘Mr Middlemore. I’m sorry to do this to you, but we’re no longer in need of an event manager. I’m happy to pay the cost of your transport down here, and reimburse you for time lost, but—’
‘You’re firing me?’ Christian’s eyebrows arrowed together in surprise. ‘Already? Your online listing sounded desperate. And in your emails you said you were in need of a major bailout, and that if you didn’t get an event manager in soon the festival would be a flop. Something’s changed?’
Jody focused her gaze on the fairy lights dancing around Mel’s Café. Afraid if she glanced up at Christian he’d see the lies in her eyes. ‘That’s right. Everything is back on track.’
‘So, you don’t need help finding entertainment?’
‘It’s sorted.’
‘And you’ve organised parking and how tickets are to be taken.’
A pebble-shaped ball of anxiety formed in Jody’s stomach.
‘Uh-huh.’ She gave a little nod of agreement.
‘And you have someone who can work a sound system?’
The pebble began to take on a stone-like quality.
‘And the MC has been properly briefed?’
Stone? More like a boulder. A boulder that was making her feel more ill by the second.
‘And do you know you’ve gone quite green? Do you need to sit down? Shall I pop over to that café and get a takeaway cup of tea? A glass of water?’
God, why was he being so concerned? He was being fired. He should be angry with her, not offering to get her a cup of bloody tea.
‘You’ve gone a bit green too, Christian,’ Tyler piped up.
‘Yeah, and you’re sweating,’ said Jordan. ‘And it’s not even that hot. Look, Mum, the edges of his face are all wet.’
Jody snuck a peek at Christian out of the corner of her eye. The boys were right. He did look quite ill. Why? What was she missing?
‘I’m fine, boys. It’s a rather warm day. However, I do think your mother is being rash sending me back to London without having me check everything over. The festival may be looking in tip-top shape right now, it may even be perfect, but the last thing she or the town needs is a cock-up on the big day.’
Tyler giggled and elbowed Jordan. ‘He said “cock-up”!’
Jody closed her eyes and exhaled. Now she was going to be hearing those two words for the next week. Excellent. ‘Could you watch your language around my sons, please? They’re impressionable. And I promise you, we don’t need you. We’re fine. In fact, like you said, we’re perfect.’ She angled her chin upwards, defying him to question her one more time.
A screech of anger filled the air. ‘You’re a mean old cow and I can’t believe I ever forgave you for breaking my best crystal vase. Although I do wish I’d been the one to break it… over your head!’
Christian’s lips quirked.
Jody threw her head back and stared at the brilliant blue sky. ‘Those women are going to be the death of me,’ she muttered before facing Christian again.
Those lush lips of his had gone from quirked to pursed in obvious amusement. Jody itched to clamp her hand over his mouth to hide those twitching lips, the way she did with the boys when they stuck their tongues out or lifted their lips in a sneer.
‘Shall I get back in my car, or shall we go and sort things out?’ he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of those annoying, I-know-exactly-what-I’m-seeing-and-I-find-it-all-too-hilarious-for-words lips.
Jody paused. An image of the fundraising thermometer she’d painted for the town flickered in the back of her mind. The red ‘mercury’ was still sitting at next-to-nothing three years later despite her organising six book sales and monthly bingo nights. She might not want Christian Middlemore, but the town needed him if they were going to get the community pool up and running. Up and running? More like totally rebuilt.
‘Fine,’ she huffed, turning to head back to the hall. ‘Follow me. You boys stay out here. You’re too young to be exposed to what’s going on in there.’
Tyler nodded sagely. ‘Cock-ups. Lots of them.’
The clang of what sounded like a chair being thrown against the wall echoed out through the hall’s doors.
Christian bent down to the boys’ height. ‘Do as your mum says. But if you hear screaming, call the police.’ He winked and straightened up again.
Jody rolled her eyes. Who did this guy think he was telling her boys what to do? Well, if he tried to tell her what to do, he was going to find out very quickly who was in charge.
***
Christian stood beside Jody as she cleared her throat to get the committee’s attention. The committee being two women who looked to be in their mid fifties, and who were currently glaring at each other from across the room, an overturned chair between them.
‘Christian, I’d like you to meet my fellow committee members. In the left corner we have Marjorie Hunter. Marjorie runs a dairy farm with her husband and their daughter, Serena. Marjorie’s also on the committee for the Farmer of the Year Awards.’
A soft snort came from the other woman. ‘More like the Failure of the Year Awards.’
Jody lifted an eyebrow. ‘Shirley.’ Her tone was sharp enough to make the woman drop her eyes to the floor.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
Jody McArthur might look youthful, with her blonde curls bobbing about her shoulders and that spaghetti-strapped sunshine-yellow sundress floating about her tanned and rather firm-looking mid thighs, Christian noted, but she wasn’t to be messed with. Or trifled with. And he got the feeling she wasn’t to be flirted with. Which wasn’t a problem, not when she had two lust-killers playing outside. He didn’t do happy families, he worked. He succeeded. He only ever did his best. The best. Anything less was unacceptable.
‘And in the right corner we have Shirley Harper. Shirley is an active member of Rabbits Leap. She’s raised three sons here. She does a little housekeeping here and there. Volunteers at all the school fundraisers…’
‘And thinks she’s the Queen of the Leap because one of her sons just happens to be a sporting bigwig.’ Marjorie’s lip lifted in a sneer directed at her adversary.
‘Well, at least he’s done something with his life. What’s your girl done? Not a lot from what I can gather. Partied a lot. Travelled the globe at someone else’s expense. Had to come home and work on the farm because of her fail—’
‘Which is where she belongs.’ Mrs Hunter cut her off, nostrils flaring in warning. ‘There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re wrong and your place is at home. Serena just took some time to come round to the idea. And she’s doing great things on the farm. She’ll be nominated in the Young Farmer category this year for sure. And she’ll win it.’
Was it Christian’s imagination or did that last statement lack conviction? He glanced at Jody, who was shaking her head, eyes heavenward. She didn’t need a miracle to manage these two. She needed him. Lucky for her, and unfortunately for him, he had nowhere else to be.
‘So that’s the committee? All of them?’ he asked.
‘Well, we do get the odd straggler come and sit in and give us their opinion, which we take onboard. The more the merrier. It’s a democracy and all that. But we’re the core team.’
Christian nodded. ‘I see.’ Except he didn’t. Their festival was being run as a democracy? People wandered in and gave their opinions and expected to be listened to? No wonder Jody had decided to hire an event manager. They didn’t need direction, they needed a director. And he was just that.
He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and marched across the room to where the thrown chair had fallen, set it on its feet and straddled it. ‘So, what have you got for me so far? What’s pinned down? What needs final confirmation?’
The women glanced at each other. Bottom lips were chomped down on. Arms folded defensively. Eyes faced any which way but his.
‘Well…’ The top of Jody’s foot twisted back and forth on the faded oak floors. ‘We’ve had some thoughts. We’ve contacted a couple of people.’
‘And we’ve got town clearance to use the entire main street,’ Mrs Harper added.
‘We’ve nearly got town clearance,’ Mrs Hunter interjected. ‘We’ve got one holdout. The butcher, John Thompson. He’s worried people will be too busy having a good time to bother coming in to buy his meat.’
Mrs Harper tapped the side of her nose. ‘I could threaten to reveal to the town that he likes to wear ladies’ knickers underneath his butcher’s apron.’
‘He doesn’t!’ Mrs Hunter’s jaw dropped.
Mrs Harper shrugged. ‘I did housework for him a couple of times. He asked me not to do the laundry but I had a few minutes spare and figured I may as well help the man out. Didn’t expect to see some rather large lacy numbers in there. I mean, they could’ve been his wife’s, but then he doesn’t have one…’
‘So, does he know you know?’ Mrs Hunter bustled over to the table and picked up her handbag.
‘I’m guessing so. Every time he sees me he goes red as a tomato, and he always throws in an extra pack of sausages with the weekly meat order.’ Mrs Harper shook her head. ‘Not that I’d say anything. It’s none of my business what he wears under his trou. And besides, it’s nice to know the old grump has a softer side. All that killing and processing of meat could harden a man, I’m sure. It’s nice he hasn’t let it. Now, shall we go for a cup of tea, Marj? All this planning has left me quite dry.’
‘A cup of tea would go down a treat, Shirl. Great idea. Maybe even a scone.’
‘With lashings of cream and oodles of jam.’ Mrs Harper rubbed her rounded stomach.
Christian couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not two minutes ago the two women had been handbags at dawn, and now they had their arms linked and were off for a spot of tea? And they called that fierce argument a discussion? Who were these people and what had he got himself into?
‘Want to come, Jody?’ Mrs Hunter called over her shoulder. ‘We’ll treat the boys to an ice cream.’
‘You go on, we’ll catch up later. I’ll finish briefing Mr Middlemore here.’ She waved goodbye to the women and then turned back to Christian. ‘So, where were we?’
‘We were discussing what’s been confirmed for the festival.’
‘Oh, yeah, that…’ Jody became very interested in the grain of the wooden floors.
Christian’s gut twisted. Not a good thing. His gut only twisted when something very bad was going on, when failure was on the horizon. A feeling he’d only felt once as bad as this… at his most recent event, where disaster had struck due to one moment of inattention. His fault completely. And once word got out he’d be a laughing stock. Not just to those in the industry, but to those who were meant to be his nearest and dearest. This job, this festival, was a way to try and prove to himself he wasn’t washed up, that he was still the best. There was no way he was going to bugger it up. Or let anything or anyone bugger it up for him. Without his career he had nothing, was nothing.
‘So just how much have you got organised. What’s a definite yes?’ Jody’s face, pink with a mixture of embarrassment and shame, gave him his answer. ‘Nothing? Not a single thing?’
‘Well, like I said, it’s a democracy. But we couldn’t decide on anything. Except for Welly-wanging.’
‘Welly-wanging?’ The narrowing of Jody’s nose told Christian he could have sounded more neutral, less disparaging. But really, what the hell was Welly-wanging?
‘What’s wrong with Welly-wanging?’ Her tone was low, deep and dangerous.
Shit. What he would give to wind back the last minute. Still, there was no going back. He had to stand his ground.
‘What’s wrong with Welly-wanging is that I don’t know what it is… but it sounds utterly provincial and I can’t imagine people coming to a festival to wang a Welly. Also, it sounds quite filthy, not family-friendly at all.’
Jody’s brow furrowed. ‘Oh my God. What are you on? It’s not dirty, it’s throwing a Wellington and whoever throws it the furthest wins a prize.’ She shook her head, indignation radiating off her. ‘I don’t know what you folk from the city get up to so that you think something like Welly-wanging sounds filthy and, quite frankly, I don’t want to.’
Christian adopted a calm tone, the opposite to Jody’s raised pitch. ‘Well even if it’s a sweet and innocent game, it doesn’t sound all that interesting and it really doesn’t seem all that much fun either. There are so many things we could do. Things that will attract people to come rather than repel them.’
‘Like what?’ Jody took a step towards him, her chin tilted, defiant. ‘What would be more fun than throwing a Wellington as far as you can?’
‘What wouldn’t be? Pony rides. They’d be fun. Amusement park rides. Vintage car displays go down well. What was the idea that sparked this whole festival again?’
Jody’s chest rose and fell, a huff escaping her lips. ‘The Rabbit Revolt. It’s the anniversary of when the town was overrun with rabbits and the local musicians made a deal with the Spirit of the Marsh granting them the ability to play the rabbits away. They marched down the main street, the rabbits followed, and then they were never seen in those numbers ever again. Frankly, I think their playing was probably just terrible and the rabbits ran to save their ears. That’d explain why the local band, The Revolting Rabbits, all descendants of the original musicians, can’t play a tuneful note between them.’
An idea sparked in the back of Christian’s head. ‘There could be something in that tale. But I have a question. What did the musicians have to exchange for the magic of the Marsh Spirit. or whatever it’s called…?’
‘They had to change the name of the town.’
‘From?’
‘Arrow’s Head.’
‘To Rabbits Leap?’
‘Yes. But despite much pleading it had to be Rabbits Leap without the apostrophe.’
‘I did wonder about the lack of apostrophe. I mean, it could be a statement, “Rabbits Leap”, because they do. It’s a fact. But it just feels… wrong.’
‘Oh, I know. It turns out the Spirit of the Marsh was a trickster who actually quite liked rabbits, but never said no to a deal. So it made us pay by having to explain our choice of apostrophe or lack thereof over and over again for nearly five hundred years.’
‘And no one’s made a deal since then I take it?’
Jody shook her head, eyes solemn. ‘No one’s dared.’
‘Right. Well, then. We should do a recreation of that event. It could be the grand finale. We could have The Revolting Rabbits play the part of the musicians. The children of the village could dress up as rabbits. We could have a marsh spirit, complete with light show. It would be amazing.’
‘But no Welly-wanging.’ Jody folded her arms over her chest and tipped her head to the side, eyebrows raised.
‘It’s not big enough. Not exciting enough. It’s a no from me. And my word is final.’ Then it hit him… ‘You know… Rabbits Leap, no apostrophe, is a little place, but it has a big story to tell… there’s a name in that. Do you have a name for the festival yet?’
Jody shook her head.
‘Well, how about… The Big Little Festival. It’s perfect, don’t you think?’
Jody unfolded her arms and placed them squarely on her hips. As much as she appreciated his ideas, his enthusiasm, she hadn’t hired him to ride roughshod over their plans, what little there were, for the festival. She’d hired him to work with her, not to take over. Not to steal her opportunity to give back to the community in a meaningful way. And if this was how he ran things, with an iron fist, she was going to have to find another way to give back to Rabbits Leap. ‘You know, Christian, what I think is that I can’t work under a dictatorship. I think you can call the festival whatever you want, because I quit.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e82c4911-7708-51a7-9177-e80c0bc8a80b)
Buggery bollocks. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Christian stared at the empty doorway where Jody had stood mere seconds ago. What had just happened? What kind of committee head just quit? And why the hell was she so hung up on this Welly-wanging business?
Still, he stood behind his belief that it wouldn’t draw people in, and he refused to do anything that would jeopardise the success of The Big Little Festival, or, more importantly, jeopardise what would be left of his career once the pop-star debacle came home to roost square on his head.
Fine. Jody was out. Next step? Go find Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter and drag them back to the hall to finally nail down some plans. And his say would be final. There would be no democracy under his watch.
He strode across the hall, stepped out into the sunshine and, squinting from its brightness, took in the lay of the land. Total chocolate-box. The kind of town people from overseas expected to see when they came to Devon. All whitewashed stone walls with thatched or tiled roofs. Flower boxes brimming with flowers, and a few weeds. That’d need to be sorted. He mentally began to put together a list of what would need to be done to the village to turn it from sweet and a little sad to something sensational.
Bunting. Lots of it. Criss-crossing the main street. A big sign at either end with The Big Little Festival painted in jaunty colours. They’d need to have portable toilets brought in. They could possibly go at the back of the park. Perhaps with some kind of wall set up to give some privacy and hide their unsightliness.
The street wasn’t wide, so he’d have to be economical with the attractions. Which would be what? He stroked his chin, soft spikes reminding him he needed to shave. He was back in the game. He had a job. Now was not the time to look like a down and outer.
A cackle of laughter caught his attention. Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter. It must be. Another cackle sent him speeding off in its direction towards a building with ‘Mel’s Café’ emblazoned on the window.
He stepped through the door and startled at the jolly ting-a-ling of the doorbell. Who had actual bells in their store any more? Where were the electronic chimes? He took in the yesteryear British vibe, all mirrored wall art and china tea trios on display. Had he actually gone back in time? Had Rabbits Leap decided 1953 was a great year to stop moving forward?
His suspicions deepened when he saw the proprietress. A petite woman with blonde hair, wearing a pink-and-red-rose-covered vintage frock, who was smiling at him in that polite manner that suggested she was wary of the stranger in her café, but would never be rude to a customer.
‘Hello? Can I help you?’ she asked. ‘Would you like to take a seat? Or would you like a moment to take a look at the cabinets?’
‘Um, actually, I was just looking…’
‘Marjorie.’ Mrs Harper’s squawk filled the room. ‘Look who’s tracked us down?! And he’s not looking happy… I guess Jody has filled him in on how things are going with the festival.’
‘Christian, stop staring at everything like a gormless wonder and sit with us.’ Mrs Hunter pushed out a chair and waved at him to join them.
‘Can I get you a coffee? Tea? I’m Mel by the way.’ The proprietress’s smile widened. ‘Welcome to Rabbits Leap. I hear you’re here to help with the festival.’
Wow, word got around quickly in this place. ‘I’m here to do what I can.’ Christian attempted to return her smile, but the painful gut-twist had returned. Like a snake intent on wrapping itself into a knot. Many knots. ‘An espresso would be great, thanks. Oh, and a scone. Extra cream, please.’
Mel leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. ‘They’ve got you stress-eating already? A word of advice. Just hold your ground. Don’t let them boss you about’. She straightened up and sent him on his way with a flick of her hand.
Boss him around? Stress-eating? What did she think he was? A pushover? It would be him doing the bossing. No two ways about that. Christian settled into the chair Mrs Harper had made available for him and gave the women a curt nod. ‘Ladies, let’s get down to business. The festival is three weeks away. It appears nothing has been organised and time is of the essence. But first things first. Jody has resigned as head of the committee. I shall take her place and this whole democracy thing you’ve got going on is out the window. There’s no time for democracy. Although I’d appreciate your connections within the wider community when it comes to booking entertainment and activities.’ Christian nodded in satisfaction and gave the women a tight smile. Job done. They knew the score. They’d be onboard. There’d be no bossing or bulldozing.
A cackle filled the air. High-pitched and hysterical. Followed by the low rumble of a chuckle. They were laughing? At him? He looked over his shoulder to see Mel giving him a pitiful glance. What was going on?
Mrs Hunter was gripping the table and gasping for air. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she panted, as she gasped for air, ‘that you said to Jody what you just said to us?’
Mrs Harper was clutching her sides. ‘You’re hilarious. Who knew the big-city boy would be so very funny? ‘There’s no time for democracy’! Oh my word. Bless your cotton socks, Christian.’
‘Look, dear.’ Mrs Hunter laid her hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze. ‘I don’t know how you do things up in London. I’m not even sure what you’ve done before. Jody didn’t say. In fact, hiring you is the only thing she’s done without chatting to us about it first, so it’s not like we expected you to be here, and we’re not entirely sure why we need you in the first place… But you have to understand that trying to tell us how to do things in that stern manner of yours is never going to work. It clearly didn’t work with Jody and it doesn’t sit well with us.’
Was that a threat he detected in that sweet and low voice? And why had Jody not consulted them? Surely she’d have had to in order to secure the budget for his services? Not that the price had been that high. But he’d needed to get out of town, it was a paying job, and if he made a success of the festival then his great mistake would hopefully be quickly forgotten. His reputation as the best event manager in London would remain intact.
Christian saw something out the corner of his eye. A young boy with a stick in his hand and a hoop beside him, rolling it down the street. Had he travelled back in time? Was he going mad? Had the stress of the pop-star disaster actually sent him barmy? Was he currently locked up in a padded cell having a delusion?
Two soft thunks and the aroma of rich coffee brought him to his senses.
‘Here’s your coffee, and the scone, with extra cream. Eat up. Drink up. You’ve the look of a man whose blood sugar is dropping at a rapid rate.’ Mel scooted the sugar bowl his way. ‘Pop two of these in, it’ll do you good.’
Christian nodded his thanks and spooned the sugar into the coffee, hoping the women across from him, still snickering away, wouldn’t notice the trembling of the spoon, or the small granules of sugar that fell onto the table.
‘So, how is this going to work then?’ he asked. ‘Will I make suggestions and you poo-poo them? Will you make suggestions and expect me to action them? Am I to be your lackey?’
‘Ooooh, I’ve always wanted a lackey.’ Mrs Harper clapped her hands in delight. ‘Yes, I’m very happy with that idea of yours. Excellent idea. You do as we say. I could live with that.’
‘Now, now, Shirley.’ Mrs Hunter shook her head in mock despair. ‘Give the poor lad a break. He’s here to help us and he must have connections. Why don’t we let him find the musical acts and we can go about telling the Rotary girls what we need for the baking stall. We’ve got the Welly-wanging sorted; Jody had that well in hand. So that should be it. We’re done.’
Christian gripped the coffee cup with both hands, brought it to his lips and sipped, holding the rich and surprisingly delicious liquid in his mouth. Who knew a tiny town could do a better cup of coffee than any he’d had in the city? He swallowed and tried to process what he’d just been told. Did they think a baking stand, some Wellington throwing and a bit of music was all a festival needed? It needed more. Much more. But it wasn’t going to work if he didn’t have a team he could trust working with him. Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter were loose cannons. They’d likely jeopardise plans rather than bring them to fruition. But Jody? There was something about her he felt he could trust. She was determined, yet centred. Solid. She’d make the perfect second-in-command. But she’d quit. Shit.
He took another sip of the brain-focusing liquid. No, he wasn’t letting these two women smash the career he’d spent his life building into smithereens. He’d left London with his tail between his legs; there was no way he was going back to face the music of his great mistake without a success under his belt. He was going to make this work.
‘Ladies.’ The word came out with a squeak. Hardly the show of strength he’d hoped for. Still, it had caught their attention. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Ladies, I appreciate how hard you’ve worked on this festival. I can see how passionate about it you are. But to be honest, it’s not enough. A festival needs to be fun, it needs excitement, amusement, it needs to be something people talk about all year round as they wait for it to come around again. What you’ve planned is a start. But it’s not an end. No. We’re going to have to work together to make this bigger. To make it better than any other festival in the area. A festival people from other counties come to visit. We’re going to make this festival the biggest little festival in England. Are you with me?’
***
‘I’m an idiot. More than an idiot. I’m insane. I should be committed.’ Jody slapped her hand to her forehead, rubbed it wearily and eyed her brother, who was restocking The Bullion’s wine fridge. ‘What was I thinking using my…’ Jody stopped herself. Tony didn’t need to know she’d used her own money to pay for the event manager. If he knew, he’d offer to help her, and she wasn’t one to accept offers of help. She’d done everything on her own since the boys came along and being a little out of pocket now wasn’t going to change that. ‘I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to hire a person who would come in and just destroy everything we’d put together. Well, what little we’d kind of put together…’ She eyed the bottles of wine lined up in The Bullion’s fridge. Was it too early for a drink? It was after midday, and surely it was five o’clock somewhere in the world. ‘Tony, pour your big sister half a glass. I need to take the edge off. And where is bloody Serena? She said she’d meet me here five minutes ago.’
Tony snickered. ‘Edge off? You’d need a whole bottle of wine to do that, not just a half glass. I’ve never seen you so pissed off. And what’s five minutes? She probably got stuck in a sheep jam or something. Chill out, Jodes.’
Jody stuck her tongue out at her brother. Then laughed when he stuck his own tongue out and crossed his eyes.
‘Seriously? How old are you two? Five?’ Serena set her tangerine-coloured tote on the bar with a whump and slid onto the stool next to Jody. ‘And why haven’t you ordered wine yet? Honestly, what kind of best friend are you? How long have we known each other? You should know by now that if you’re demanding I come to a pub then you’d better have something alcoholic ready for me when I get here. And what’s the big drama? And who’s Mr Fancy Pants? And why do we need to run him out of town, preferably with pitchforks that have sat in hot coals for a couple of hours?’
Jody grinned at her friend. Serena had a way of bringing lightness to even the darkest situations. ‘Tony. Did you hear the woman? Wine. Now.’ She slapped her hand on the bar for emphasis. ‘And bugger the half a glass, make it a whole. Also, could you take some chips up to the boys and tell them they’re not to be playing the violent computer games. And if they do they’ll lose today’s TV privileges. And make sure you impress upon them that if they do play the violent games, I’ll know. And be sure to raise your eyebrows on the “I know” bit.’
‘And they believe you’ll know?’ Serena grinned.
‘They haven’t figured out that when I told them I had secret cameras installed upstairs and all around Rabbits Leap to keep an eye on them that I was telling them a white lie.’
‘Or a blatant lie.’ Tony poured the wine into glasses and slid them across the bar. ‘I’ll go sort out the chips for the boys. Don’t steal anything, I have cameras everywhere too, you know.’ He winked, and then headed out to the kitchen.
Jody shrugged and lifted the glass to her lips. ‘A mum’s got to do what a mum’s got to do,’ she murmured, as much to herself as to Serena. ‘Anyway, you won’t believe the afternoon I’ve had. Actually, no, first of all, how are you?’
Serena shook her head. ‘I’m fine. Forced into farm slavery. Sick of the smell of cowpats, tired of getting up at the crack of dawn to touch a bunch of udders.’ She shuddered. ‘But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about you. So, who is this bloke who’s got your knickers in a twist? Don’t tell me you’ve finally broken that dumb rule of yours and fallen in love? Don’t do it, Jody. Love is a bad thing. Terrible thing. Never ends well. Secure that chastity belt of yours. And double-lock it.’
Jody snorted. ‘Thank God I’m not mid glug right now, because you’d be wearing the wine. Nope, he’s of no romantic interest to me. No man is. You know that. Not until the boys have left home and no longer need me. What he is, though, is the event manager I hired to help get the festival on track.’ She laughed, short and harsh. Regretful. ‘On track? He’s blown up what few ideas we had. There won’t be Welly-wanging.’
‘No Welly-wanging? So? What’s the big deal about that? It’s not like we’re known for it. Haven’t won any competitions or anything. Heck, didn’t Rabbits Leap quit entering them when we came last at our first attempt?’
‘Well… I know… but…’ Jody twisted her wine glass round and round. ‘I don’t know. People seem to enjoy it. Families look like they’re having a good time…’ She shrugged and traced patterns in the condensation on the wine glass. ‘I guess it was a dumb idea. But it was the only idea I was able to get everyone to agree on. I guess it wasn’t so much about him saying no to it as the way he said it. He just dismissed it. Wasn’t even polite about it. He came in and took over, and well… that’s just not the Rabbits Leap way.’
‘So, what are you going to do? Get rid of him for hating the one big idea you managed to get past my mother and Mrs Harper? You did send him packing, didn’t you?’ Serena gave her a speculative look. ‘You didn’t. You bailed. You’ve left him to ruin the town festival. Jody!’ she wailed. ‘You can’t. We need you. You know how to organise stuff. You’ve done those bingo nights. Those book sales. The schoolkids were able to go on a trip to the Natural History Museum in London because of your fundraising efforts. But most importantly, we need a pool! Sure, it only gets used a couple of months a year. But, oh, what glorious months they are. And if we raise enough we could get some fancy heat-making thing to make the pool swimmable a little longer. I can’t believe you let Mr-Fancy-whatever-you-called-him-Pants steamroll you. God, if I meet that man, I’ll…’
A cough, of an undeniably awkward nature, stopped Serena in her verbal tracks.
Out of the corner of her eye Jody could see Christian loitering a few feet away. His hands in his shorts pockets. His gaze fixated on the timber beams running across The Bullion’s ceiling. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
Serena’s eyes widened and her own cheeks flamed. ‘He’s behind me, isn’t he?’ she mouthed.
Jody nodded.
‘Shit,’ she mouthed again and attempted to nonchalantly sip her wine, only to slosh it all over the bar.
‘Hey, Christian.’ Jody said, but the casual tone came out a croak. ‘Are you after a cold drink? Or an alcoholic one? Did Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter send you round the bend already?’
Christian shifted from foot to foot. Was it her imagination or had his cheeks rouged up? ‘Er, no. Not so much. They are… trying… though.’
Serena snorted. ‘He just called my mother “trying”. Should I throw my wine over him or be happy someone else agrees with me?’
The hint of colour on Christian’s cheeks morphed into a full flush. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your mother. I didn’t know. And if it’s any consolation, she’s much better than the other one.’
Serena laughed. ‘Mrs Harper’s a right handful. I don’t know how the boys haven’t smothered her in her sleep already.’
Jody grinned. ‘You forget that Bo’s a big-time rugby star, so he’s never home. Ridge spends his days and nights with his head under the bonnet of various cars. And Chase… well, he’s the ultimate mama’s boy, so he’d be buggered and bereft if anything happened to her.’
‘True. Pity she’s their mother. Those boys are damn hot. But who’d go there if you had to deal with that.’
Christian stepped forward. ‘And that’s why I’m here. Jody, I need you to come back. I need…’ He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if something were stuck in his throat and he had to force it out. ‘I need your help to deal with, as your friend so eloquently put it, that.’
Jody swung round on the stool to face Christian, propped her elbows on the bar, leaned back and laughed. Long and hard. The sound echoed around the bar and caused Christian to take the step he’d taken forward back again. Then another.
Jody sucked in a couple of calming breaths, but couldn’t erase the grin that kept returning every time she tried to tame it. ‘What happened to Mr-I’m-in-Charge? Mr I’m-the-Boss? Have you finally realised you’re not in London any more? That we don’t do things down here like you do up there?’
Christian’s chest – broad, she noted, and potentially even muscular – rose and fell. Once, twice, three times. He was either trying to keep himself from raging at her for laughing in his face, or breathing to stop himself passing out. Jody noted the grayish-beige tone to his skin and softened. ‘Here.’ She indicated the stool beside Serena. ‘Take a seat. Can I get you a drink?’
‘Water.’ The corners of his lips lifted in a smile, but his eyes remained unsure. Guarded.
Jody grabbed a pint glass. ‘You look like you need a beer. I’m getting you a beer.’ She expertly filled the glass and passed it to Christian. Their fingertips grazed against each other as the glass changed hands, sending something that very much resembled a tingle up Jody’s arm. Warming the areas it zipped through. Surely not? Her body wasn’t attracted to him, was it? She brushed the idea aside. No, it was probably just static electricity. She caught Christian’s eye and saw her baffled feelings reflected back at her. So, not static electricity then. Strange. Still, Jody mused as she returned to her seat, her body could feel all the tickly thrills it wanted; it didn’t mean she was going to do anything about it. Not now, not ever. No amount of lusty body-feels could make up for the pain that followed the inevitable rejection.
‘This beer’s good. Really good.’ Christian ran his tongue over his lips, erasing the foam that had settled there.
Her body started again. The energy moving a little lower, hovering low in her stomach, warming what she liked to joke about as the ‘cold pit’. Turncoat, she scolded. ‘It’s my brother’s. He brews it. He’s making a name for himself.’
‘He should have a spot at the festival. Did I see a sign for a beer garden?’
Jody nodded.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be a daft idea to do the beer garden up and make it the official beverage stand. Would he be into that?’
Tony walked through the kitchen doors. ‘The boys are sorted with the chips. No violent video games in sight. And would I be interested in what?’
‘Tony, this is Christian Middlemore. The new head of the festival committee. He thinks your beer garden would be an excellent addition to the festival. What do you think about that?’ Jody raised an eyebrow and prayed her brother would do the loyal family thing and tell Christian to bugger off – even though it was a good idea. One she wished she’d thought of herself.
Tony clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. ‘I think that’s a fantastic idea. Best idea yet. The beer garden’s only just been created, needs a bit of a tidy up, a bit of landscaping and whatnot, but this would give me the excuse I need to pull my finger out of my arse and do it. I’m in.’ Tony reached out and grabbed Christian’s hand and shook in vigorously.
Traitor, Jody grumbled to herself. That made two backsliders today. Her body and her brother. The two things that were meant to be loyal.
‘I’m so glad you like that idea, Tony. I think it could be quite spectacular. I was also thinking you could string lanterns across the area. They’d look brilliant during the day and be a real show-stopper at night for those who chose to stay on after the festival.’
‘Great. Love it. I’ll get on to it. Jodes? Why didn’t we hire this guy earlier?’
Christian took another slurp of beer, set his glass down and focused on Jody. ‘Thank you, Tony. I appreciate that you see my worth. If only everyone did. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting the committee to be so…’ Christian paused, his eyes darting from side to side as if racking his brain for the right word.
‘Crazy?’ Tony supplied.
‘What is with you people today?’ Serena snapped, her face lighting up with a grin. ‘That’s my mother you’re talking about!’
‘I stand by my statement. I’d also add nutty, forceful, determined and pretty damn intolerable when given a hint of power. I still can’t believe you agreed to take those two on, Jodes.’ Tony shook his head. ‘You must have been having a moment.’
Or desperate to make up for the past. A lump settled in Jody’s throat. ‘Something like that, Tony. Had myself a wee bit of a turn, obviously.’ She forced a smile. ‘Anyway, I’ve quit, so it’s not my problem any more.’
‘Actually, Jody…’ Christian’s focus remained on her.
Jody tried not to squirm in her seat. Why did he have to keep looking at her so intently? And why did he have to have those warm, roasted chestnut-coloured eyes that could melt steel, or an ice maiden’s vow to herself. Ugh. She folded her arms and pinched the soft underside of her arms in an attempt to pull herself together.
‘…I wasn’t joking when I said I needed your help. I do. And I hate admitting that. But Rabbits Leap is… different… to what I’m used to. The people here are set in their ways. And there seems to be some sort of hierarchy I can’t figure out. Well, I can. At the moment it seems the locals are on top and I’m at the bottom of the pile. Which would be fine, but I need to make this work. I need someone to help me figure this place and its people out. I need you, Jody. I want you.’
Serena giggled. ‘Well, that’s not the kind of declaration a girl hears every day. I think I’d better leave you two alone.’ She slugged back the dregs of her wine, gathered up her bag and winked at Jody. ‘Have fun!’
Frustrated, Jody lowered her head into her hands and sank her teeth into her lower lip. What choice did she have? If she said no, she’d be stuck in the same place she’d been for years – looking for a way to make up for her one night of recklessness that had impacted on so many. But if she said yes? She recalled those flickers of electricity that had danced over her skin when they’d touched. If she said yes, she’d be putting herself in a position she’d sworn never to be in. She’d be opening herself up to attraction. Which could lead to desire. And then the ultimate no-no, love. And, in her experience, that never led anywhere good.
‘We need to get something clear,’ she mumbled into her hands. ‘You are not my favourite person right now. But I’ll work with you. Not because I want to, but because I don’t want this little town to lose its one big dream. So I’ll come back onboard, but you need to understand that I won’t be dictated to. If we’re butting heads, we’ll have to find someone for a swing vote. Understood?’
Christian lifted his head a little, just enough so one half of his face was in view. ‘Mr Fancy Pants understands.’ He gave her a cheeky grin.
Her heart must have discovered a trampoline in her chest because it did a flip-flop. Jody closed her eyes against that far-too-cute smile. It was too late to back out. She’d done the deal. But why did she suspect the price she’d pay would be high?
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e2fde13a-af91-517a-abe7-b0cf9c918103)
Focus.
Christian forced himself to read the words on the laptop, but for the first time in a long time the screes of plans and ideas he had for an event held little to no interest. Not when his mind was filled with images of curling blonde hair that bounced on sun-kissed shoulders, tanned legs so long they looked like they could give The Shard a run for its money, and the tantalising hint of divinely curved breasts.
Damn it! The last thing he needed was to have the hots for a woman he was supposed to be working with. The building blocks to success did not include romance. He’d learnt that time and time again when his previous attempts at relationships had gone south when his girlfriends began to put pressure on him to cut back on the hours he spent at work so they could spend more time together. Further proving his suspicion that having both fairy tale-style love and a career was impossible. The only compromise was partnership, two people supporting each other to further each other’s success. An arrangement his parents had down pat. A united front at work functions. But behind the door of their family home? Short, sharp and dismissive summed it up. The only time kind words were exchanged was when a goal was met. A win had. It was the only way he’d received any attention. Not that his decision to go into event management was taken seriously by them. No doubt when his recent failure became public knowledge they’d pop open a bottle of champagne…
He pulled up a budgeting template and pushed the self-pity away. Self-pity was not what winners were made of. And even though he’d not followed the family into law or medicine as expected, he’d still become the best in his field. And he wasn’t going to let one stupid error derail everything he’d built.
A scuffle outside his bedroom door caught his attention.
‘You’re a cock-up,’ a voice yelled.
‘No, you are. Your face is a cock-up.’ The retaliation was met with another round of scuffling.
What the hell was going on out there? Why was Tony allowing people to fight in his establishment? When Jody had mentioned his accommodation she’d assured him that, despite its being above a pub, it wouldn’t be rowdy.
‘Boys. Do I need to hide your tablet again?’ The stern warning put a stop to the fighting.
Three sharp raps on his door followed. Shit, Jody was here to see him. He peered at the time on the laptop. Of course she was, they had a meeting. Which she’d brought her sons to. Something she’d not mentioned and something he couldn’t condone. If he’d wanted to work with kids he’d have been a teacher.
He marched to the door, his head full of rebukes, pulled it opened, and all his words of chastisement disappeared as the air whooshed from his stomach at the sight before him. Jody’s two young lads, with those matching sandy-blond curls, mischievous grins and knobbly knees peeping out below denim cut-offs, were smiling up at their mum with absolute adoration as she ruffled their curls. Her smile as big as theirs, with every bit as much love. This was what he’d always imagined a family would be like. A proper family. Love, laughter, teasing. Not cold, distant and perfunctory.
Jody looked up in surprise. ‘Oh, that was quick. I’ve only just knocked.’
‘Well, I could’ve heard you coming from two towns away.’ Christian swung the door open all the way and indicated for them to come in. ‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing them.’
‘“Them” have names. Tyler, Jordan, you remember Christian.’
The boys glared at him with open hostility. ‘He ruined our fun.’ Tyler narrowed his eyes.
‘Yeah. We were having a good time until he yelled at us.’ Jordan scratched at a scab on his elbow. ‘How did he not know it was a slide anyway? For an adult that’s pretty dumb.’
A pretty flush of pink hit Jody’s cheeks. ‘Sorry about these two. You’ll get used to them.’
Get used to them? What? Christian shut the door behind them. ‘Um, what do you mean, “get used to them”? They’re not going to be coming with you to all our meetings, are they?’
Jody nodded. ‘Sure they are. We’re a package deal. They go where I go.’
‘But that’s hardly professional.’ The gentle rhythmic thud of Christian’s heart began to pick up pace. This wasn’t how business was done. How was he going to ensure the festival went off without a hitch with two young people getting in the middle of things? And if the festival didn’t go off without a hitch? Goodbye career, hello humble pie.
‘You want me. You want my family.’ Jody’s hands left the boys’ shoulders and flew to her hips, her chin tilted. ‘The boys and I are a unit. We stick together. Also, there’s no one to take care of them.’
‘What about your brother? Or your friend I met earlier?’ Christian had a feeling he was clutching at straws, but wasn’t giving up easily.
‘Tony has The Bullion to run. His fiancée, Mel, helps him when she’s not running her café. Serena is on the farm most of the day and, frankly, I don’t know that she’s responsible enough to handle the two boys. She’d probably take them on a ramble and lose them.’
‘Your mum? Your dad? Their dad?’ Christian sank onto his bed as the world began to tip a little sideways. Was the room too small for four people? Because it felt like he was losing oxygen.
‘My mum passed away when I was five. My father passed away not long ago. And, their father is… not on the scene.’ The last four words were soft, but there was no missing the steely tone. The boys’ father was not a topic up for discussion when the boys were around.
Christian ran his hand through his hair. ‘Okay, so they’re coming with us.’ He turned his gaze on the boys. ‘We’re going to have to set some rules, though. If your mother or I are talking to an adult, you can’t interrupt. And you can’t get rowdy like you were out in the corridor. Consider yourself Rabbits Leap ambassadors. Pretend you’re fine, upstanding young men… or something.’
‘Pretend?’ Jody frowned, but a smirk threated to ruin her act.
‘Fine.’ Christian grinned. ‘Act like the fine, upstanding young men I know you to be. And no saying “cock-up”. At least not within the earshot of adults.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the boys chorused, saluting Christian. Their little faces solemn, their eyes glinting with good humour.
Christian fought the urge to reach out and ruffle their hair as Jody had done earlier. They were good kids. But it was better he kept his distance. Rabbits Leap was only a pit stop until he was sure things were going to blow over back home. There was no point forming attachments. Especially as he was incapable of living up to any “attachments” expectations.
‘I was also thinking they’d be quite good if we do end up needing a swing vote.’ Jody leaned against the windowsill.
‘But there’s two of them? What if they can’t agree? And do we really want to put the decisions in the hands of, what… a couple of eight-year-olds?’
‘Hey! We’re nine.’ Jordan stamped his foot and folded his arms across his chest.
‘Sorry. Nine-year-olds then.’ Christian nodded an apology to Jordan and Tyler, then looked over at Jody. ‘But really? We have to take this seriously.’
‘I am. This is a family festival. It’s for people of all ages. And who knows better what kids like than kids? Besides, they rarely disagree on anything. And if they do we’ll flip a coin. Or we’ll get Mrs Harper’s opinion.’
Christian’s heart broke out into another trot. ‘No, no need to get Mrs Harper involved. We’ll flip a coin.’
Jody’s smirk blossomed into a grin, one that revealed a cute dimple on her left cheek. What would it be like to touch, to kiss? The thought rose unbidden. What the hell was going on with him?
Christian leapt off the bed. Now was not the time to be thinking amorous thoughts. Now was the time to work. He could think amorous thoughts another time, about another woman. Definitely another woman. One not so obviously family-focused. One who would understand that work and winning came first. ‘Look, this room is no place for a meeting. It’s small. Cramped.’ And feeling more cramped by the second as he realised that Jody’s white paint-spattered tank top was ever so slightly see-through, revealing a hint of her bra. Lacy, latte-coloured. And housing two things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. ‘We need to get out, now.’ He charged for the door and made his way down the hallway, down the stairs and into The Bullion’s dining area, only knowing he was being followed because of the bang of his bedroom door closing, followed by multiple thumps of feet on floorboards closing in behind him.
***
What the heck had just gone on? Jody pondered as she stared at Christian’s back, which wasn’t so much taking the lead as beating some kind of retreat. One minute they were discussing the boys’ involvement, the next he’d bounded off the bed and bolted from the room.
But there had been a moment before that. A moment she thought she’d imagined. Or perhaps wanted to imagine. His eyes had flicked down, lingered on her top. Her chest. Then his eyes had widened, and he’d been up and gone. A man on a mission. Or a man looking to escape whatever was on his mind.
And what had been on his mind? Her? Jody glanced down at her top and saw it through new eyes. A man’s eyes. Oh. Her old painting tank top was a little see-through. And her bra was perhaps a little alluring. Not that she was trying to lure anyone with it. It was just there to hold up her boobs.
A shiver trailed its way down her spine. Why did she suddenly feel as if she’d exposed herself to Christian? Why hadn’t she brought another top in case it got chilly? Because it was summer. A warmer than usual summer at that. And why did she have a feeling things were only going to get hotter? Jody clenched her jaw. Nope. No heat here. Nothing steamy at all.
She followed the boys into the dining room and looked for the iced-water pitcher Tony always had filled and ready for customers. What she needed to do was drench herself in that, cool off… and give Christian a view of everything. Wet T-shirt competition styles. No. No water. She just needed to continue ignoring the fact that he was the hottest man she’d seen in years, while continuing to remember her number-one rule. No. Men. Allowed. Not until her boys were men. That was her rule and she was sticking with it.
And then what? The shiver returned, needling her conscience. And then what? Then she’d find another excuse, another way to keep her heart locked up, wrapped in chains and buried down a concrete-filled well.
‘Mum.’ Tyler tugged at her hand. ‘Where is Christian going?’
Jody gripped Tyler’s hand. Her boys were what mattered. They needed to grow up knowing they were all that mattered to her. They weren’t to feel like a second thought, the way she had growing up. She gave Tyler’s hand a squeeze. ‘No idea, T. Let’s follow him and find out, shall we?’
The three of them picked up their pace as they half walked half ran after Christian, who was storming down the main street, head down, shoulders hunched. He stalked past the butcher’s, passed Mel’s Café, didn’t look twice at the village hall, and continued up towards the school.
Her arms began to ache and she looked down to see the boys lagging behind her. Their chests heaving with exertion. ‘Christian!’ she called. ‘You’ve got to slow down. Our legs aren’t as long as yours!’
‘Nearly there,’ he yelled back.
To her relief he began to slow down. Then stopped. In front of the old pool, she realised.
‘Come on, boys, we might as well see what this madman is up to.’ They traipsed over to where Christian was standing, his eyes trained on the mural painted on the brick wall that separated the pool from the community.
‘Do you like it?’ asked Jody as she took in the picture she knew like the back of her hand. A fifty-by-ten-feet painting, filled with images of the Leap, from the town’s oldest resident, Mr Muir, hunched over his daily crossword, to a younger, laughing Mrs Harper washing a shopfront window, to her own boys frolicking in the pool – not that they’d had the opportunity as it had been out of commission well before they were born. The lives of the local residents were backed by the rolling Rabbits Leap hills, criss-crossed with hedgerows and stone walls, a clear blue sky hugging the hills. She considered it her greatest work. And hoped one day, once the boys were older, she’d be able to seriously work on her art. Take on commissions. Make enough money to realise the one dream she’d had before the boys were born, to travel through Europe seeing her favourite works of art in the flesh, not on some computer screen or in the pages of a coffee-table book.
‘It’s great. The artist really captured the boys. Their light. Their happiness. Their joy. You can almost feel the coolness of the water. I can see the wisdom coming from that gentleman. And Mrs Harper’s raucous joy. The artist is talented.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the mural.
‘The artist is me,’ said Jody. The words came out more shyly than she’d hoped for.
‘Wow, a sculptress and a painter. You really are very talented. Do you do it for a living?’
Jody shook her head. ‘No. It’s just something I do when I have some spare time. Looking after the boys and the day-to-day work on the farm keep me busy enough.’
‘You’re a farmer too? Like Serena?’ Christian’s lips quirked in disbelief.
Jody refrained from rolling her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m a farmer. Sort of. It was my grandparents’ farm and it was passed on to me when they passed away. Except I don’t know all that much about farming, so I’ve a farm worker, Jack. He does the hard work. I tend to do more of the managerial side of things. Not that I know much about managing anything, but it seems the story of my life is being plunged into a deep pool and being told I can sink or swim.’
Christian’s eyes darted between the two boys. ‘Well, it seems you’re very good at swimming.’
‘I could be better. It’d be nice for the farm to make enough money to not just pay Jack and the household bills, but for the boys and I to go on holidays. Do more than meander around this place. Still, I can’t complain. We’ve a roof over our heads and enough coming in that we’re fed and clothed.’
Christian’s eyes flicked down, then quickly up. Jody crossed her arms over her chest and wished she’d sprung for a better-quality tank top, preferably made of inch-thick opaque material.
Christian, as if sensing her discomfort, changed the subject. ‘So, now we’re out of that tiny, cramped space and at the source of inspiration to remind us why we’re going to make the festival a runaway success, let’s brainstorm. Let’s combine ideas. Work out what we can do with the space and time available, then get the rest of the committee to secure what we need.’
‘Well, I really liked the idea of replicating the Rabbit Revolt. I could design the costumes. There’s a local group that are keen on sewing, the Stitch ‘n’ Snitch club. They come together every week to sew. And gossip. Mostly gossip,’ Jody admitted. ‘We could get them to whip up the costumes. And, like you suggested, the local kids could play the rabbits.’
‘Mum!?’ Tyler wailed. ‘It’s school holidays. That sounds like we have to take part in a school play.’
‘And I hate taking part in plays,’ Jordan moaned. ‘They always make me be a statue of some sort.’
‘Because you can’t remember your lines,’ Tyler snickered.
‘Shut up, Tyler. At least I didn’t have to dance with a girl like you did in the last one.’
‘Yeah, that was gross.’ Tyler stuck his tongue out and faux-gagged. ‘I’m not dancing with girls at the festival. Okay?’
Christian regarded the boys seriously. ‘So, if we don’t have dancing, you’re in? And you think the rest of the local kids will get onboard?’
Unexpected warmth flooded Jody. It was good to see the boys interacting with a man on a man-to-man level. They didn’t get that a lot. Tony was always working, and her farm worker, Jack, was always out in the fields, so their role models were few and far between. A fist tightened around her heart as guilt niggled at her. Would her refusal to give a relationship a chance, to get close to another man, mean they were missing out on something special?
‘We’ll get them onboard. We’ll remind them it’s for the pool and how cool it would be to have bombing competitions once it’s opened.’ Jordan stuck his hand out. ‘So it’s a deal.’
The niggle deepened as Jody watched the boys and Christian solemnly shake hands all round. Christian showing them how to shake hands in an authoritative manner. Why hadn’t she thought to teach them to shake hands like that? They’d be out in the real world one day and if they had wet-fish handshakes no one would take them seriously. She pushed the guilt away. It wasn’t going to help matters, and besides, this wasn’t about them or her, this was about making amends to the community. In a super-secret, stealth manner.
‘Right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘So that’s sorted. What else can we do to ensure this is the festival to end all festivals? A Ferris wheel? A carousel?’
Christian looked up from tapping on his phone. ‘All good ideas. But we need to remember there’s only so much space.’ He stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Hmmm, we’re surrounded by hills, and farms, and it’s a fundraiser for a pool. I feel there’s something there…’ He gazed off into the distance. ‘I’ve got it! We could do a giant slip and slide and create one of those makeshift pools using hay bales. People would love it! People could pay for, say, a thirty-minute swim and they could pay per slide. Can’t you just imagine it? They’d come from all over to have a swim and a slide. Hell, we could try and make it a world-record thing. The world’s longest slip and slide.’
Jody found herself nodding enthusiastically. ‘That could be cool. Really cool. And maybe, if we do go for the record, the local news might pick it up and that could bring us some promotion.’
‘Local news? Oh no, let’s go regional. No, national. Why do a little when you can do a lot. More is more, Jody. More is more.’
Christian dropped down onto the grass, then grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him. Close. Their knees brushed and those volts of energy surged, up her thigh, straight to the area she’d purposefully ignored for the last decade. She inched her knee away, and then pulled her hand out of Christian’s, ignoring how empty it suddenly felt. And how perfect it had felt being held by a strong and capable hand, as opposed to two soft young ones.
‘Jody, this wonderful mural of yours needs to have the people of Rabbits Leap milling in front of it every summer as they wait for the pool to open. And I think the water theme combined with the anniversary of the eviction of the rabbits is going to take this little festival of yours to the next level.’
‘Well, then. Let’s do it! Let’s make it happen.’ Jody paused, uncertainty coiled in her belly. ‘Um, Christian? How are we going to make this happen?’
Christian threw his head back and laughed. Deep, chocolatey. Sexy too.
Stop perving. He’ll leave. They always do, one way or the other. You don’t need that kind of rejection.
‘And that, Jody, is why the town hired me. I can make it happen. You might need to point me in the direction of a farmer who does the old square hay bales as opposed to the round ones. But the rest? I can sort the rest. Just you watch. That’s what Rabbits Leap’s paying me for.’
The uncertainty evaporated, only to be replaced with the urge to tell Christian the truth about his coming to Rabbits Leap. ‘Christian. Can you keep a secret?’
Christian angled his head and gave her a curious glance. ‘I can be the soul of discretion.’
She leant in, motioned for him to do the same, and whispered, ‘The town isn’t paying for you to be here. I am.’
Christian’s jaw dropped, revealing perfectly even, nicely spaced, white teeth. Was there anything imperfect about this man? And why was she thinking about his teeth and general good-lookingness when she’d just told him the truth about his employment.
‘But why? Why you? Why not the town?’
Jody sighed. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. She was too ashamed. But she could skirt around it. ‘The thing is, Christian, this town has been good to me. When my mother passed away they organised the funeral because my father was in no way capable of doing so. He was pretty much in denial and just set about running the pub as if nothing had happened. Over those months the women of Rabbits Leap were always bringing stews and pies, hand-me-down clothes, anything they thought Tony and I might need. In their own way, and alongside my grandparents, they helped raise us until I got to be older and became self-sufficient enough that I could care for Tony and myself.’ She pulled at the grass, threw the tufts aside, tugged at it some more. ‘When the boys came along they helped me as much as I’d let them. Showed me how to change a nappy, how to bathe them. When mastitis hit, they saw the signs early enough and ensured I was taken care of. And again there was the food and the hand-me-downs. Apparently nobody throws anything away in this town. Even now, the boys are wearing clothing that belonged to Mrs Harper’s sons.’ She brought her knees up to her chest in a hug and looked up into the hills, lush green with swathes of gold where the rape fields bloomed. ‘So when they asked me to take on the festival, I said yes. Without hesitation. I owe this town so much. I owe them the good life I’ve lived. It could’ve so easily gone the other way.’
‘So, when you realised wrangling with the two Mrs H’s wasn’t going to plan and things were going nowhere fast, you called me in.’ Christian nodded in understanding. ‘Well, I’m glad you did. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this project, very much.’ He flashed her another smile. The wide-mouthed open kind that made Jody glad she was sitting because her knees probably couldn’t have held her up had she been standing.
Another time, another place, another situation, and she could have quite liked Christian. More than liked him. But she had her vow to keep and two young boys to grow into two fine young men before she could bother with that side of things. And after that? She’d be safe. She wouldn’t need to use the boys as an excuse to keep relationships at bay, because there was no one in Rabbits Leap who’d ever caught her eye, and Christian would be going back to London, well out of temptation’s way.
Still, as the sun glinted off his artfully styled brown hair, his eyes sparkling with excitement, she couldn’t help but think ‘what if?’.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ef05e5f6-01d3-5e68-b81c-02a897b93d22)
Christian took a sip of his flat white and slumped back in the café’s retro metal-framed, cherry-coloured wooden chair, the milky, earthy liquid soothing the confusion jangling his thought processes. For a second outside the old pool he’d felt a connection with Jody. And not because they’d reached some sort of truce, and decided to stop fighting each other. It had been different. The kind of connection you feel when your eyes meet your date’s over a few glasses of something alcoholic at a bar. Or when you’ve gone out with a woman a few times and it’s time to take things to the next level. And you both want to.
Except he didn’t want to. Even if some chemical part of him did. Jody was beautiful and clearly talented, but there was the matter of the boys, who were currently sitting to the left of him, their twin heads bowed towards a tablet screen as they tap-tap-tapped on some game. They weren’t part of his life plan. He didn’t think it would be fair to raise a child in an environment where work and winning came first. Sure, he’d survived. Just. He’d been forced to grow from a shy and awkward boy to a strong man who others paid attention to, listened to, and were happy to take orders from. Well, apart from the older festival committee members of Rabbits Leap. But he’d sort them out soon enough. Yes, his home environment had brought success, but deep in his gut he suspected there were other, better ways to raise a family. Ways he knew nothing of, and didn’t have the role models to learn from.
‘So, we’re all good then?’ Jody looked up from the serviette she’d scribbled notes on. ‘We’ve got the ideas for festival activities down, so now we just have to decide what people will find more enjoyable, and I’m sorry, Christian, but I just don’t think food trucks will fly when compared to one of our baking stalls. We’ve some master bakers here, and you’ve tried Mel’s scones. Who wouldn’t want one of those?’
Christian eyed the crumbs left on his plate. ‘They’re delicious, don’t get me wrong, but while you locals trust the baking here, home-baked goods might not appeal to outsiders. I mean, who knows what conditions they’re cooked in? What if a fly landed in a batch of biscuit mix?’
Jody groaned. ‘Oh, for Pete’s sake. Really? How likely do you think that is to happen?’
‘I bet you it has, somewhere. All I’m saying is a little variety could be good. There’s a fair happening a few towns over that’s advertising food trucks. Indian, Mexican, Greek. I mean, who doesn’t love a good souvlaki? Or a tasty taco?’
Jody’s answer came in the form of a squeak and rumble from the direction of her stomach. ‘Traitor. I knew I should’ve gone for a scone and a sausage roll.’ She grimaced as she rubbed it. ‘I suppose there’s nothing wrong in at least checking out the offerings. Maybe we could do both? Food trucks and baking?’
‘Perhaps.’ Christian diarised a trip to the fair on his mobile. ‘But it all comes down to space. We’ve only a smallish amount to work with and we need to maximise it as much as possible. It is The Big Little Festival, after all. It needs to go off with a bang.’
‘So, I guess that means we can’t do both the carousel and the Ferris wheel, or the vintage car show and the jumble and book sale.’ Jody spooned sugar into her coffee and gave it a swirl.
‘Perhaps we can. The jumble and book sale could be held in the hall. I’m having second thoughts on the vintage car show. Too big, and it won’t bring in money. You know, we could do some really old-fashioned style festival activities. It would be in keeping with the old-time feel of this place. Say a ring toss, or a kissing booth, even.’
Jordan’s head lifted. ‘Just don’t you be the one kissing, Mum. We’d make no money.’
Jody swatted Jordan’s head. ‘Oh, you shush, cheeky boy.’
‘I don’t know, Jordan. I can imagine there’d be a couple of people out there who’d pay to be kissed by your mum. I’d be first in line.’ Christian paused as Jody flushed bright red, then realised how what he’d said sounded. ‘You know, just to get the ball rolling…’
‘I’m not kissing anyone,’ she croaked. ‘The kissing booth isn’t happening. Besides, germs.’
‘Good point, Mum. Everyone knows girls have lots of germs.’ Jordan nodded his approval and returned to the screen.
Christian suppressed a laugh. Even choked up and embarrassed, Jody was hot. And even though he had no intention of pursuing anything with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had a partner. Earlier, when he’d grabbed her hand and their knees had touched, she’d acted like he’d bitten her. Or jolted her with a taser. Whatever had passed between them sure had some electricity behind it. And while he didn’t want to explore that connection, he wasn’t sure why Jody was so keen to shut it down? Was there someone in the picture, secreted away on the side? Did she not want the boys to see her with another man unless it was serious?
‘Christian? You in there? What else would you suggest we add to the programme?’
‘Pony rides, like we talked about. A rural petting zoo perhaps. All easily doable. But of course it’s not going to happen unless you get sign-off on using the main street. We were waiting on one person, weren’t we? The butcher? He had to give his okay along with all the other business owners to host the festival on the main street?’
Jody nodded. ‘Yeah, but he’s adamant it’ll hurt his business. Won’t budge.’
‘But we have something on him, don’t we? We could do what Shirley suggested and use that to get what we want, couldn’t we?’ Christian pressed.
‘Oh no.’ Jody shook her head, eyes wide in horror. ‘We couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.’
Christian admired her integrity, but they weren’t getting the festival off the ground without each and every business owner’s consent. ‘Sorry, Jody, I disagree. What’s not right is halting the progress and growth of this village because you’re afraid you might sell a few less lamb chops one day of the year. I’m going to chat to him, now.’ He scraped the chair back and stood up.
‘If you’re doing that, I’m coming with you. I won’t have you upsetting a member of this town unnecessarily. Boys, you stay here. Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’
‘I’ll say what needs to be said, nothing more. Besides, there’s more than one way to get what you want. I just need to find out what’s important to him. What he wants. I’m sure I won’t have to resort to revealing his secret to the whole village.’ Christian marched through the door and into the street, quiet apart from a dog tied up outside the café, staring longingly at a cat lazing in the sun across the road.
There was a tug on his shirt.
‘You are not going to tell him you know he wears lacy underwear,’ Jody whispered. ‘It’s not your business. It’s nobody’s business. And what if he digs his heels in deeper? Christian, if he knows Mrs Harper has been spreading rumours about him, you could start some sort of town war.’ Jody spun him round to face her. ‘This isn’t London. If you have a falling out with someone, you’re going to have to see them again. A lot. You can’t do this.’
‘I’ll do what needs to be done.’ Christian shrugged her off, strode across the road and paused in front of the butchery – ‘Stripped and Fed’. What the hell kind of name was that for a butchery? Graphic much? And now he was going to have to meet the proprietor, knowing that when he stripped he was in lacy knicks. Bloody hell. If he didn’t need this job so much he would have been out of here in five seconds flat.
He pushed open the door and was greeted by refreshing chilled air, and the earthy, metallic scent butcheries exuded. He breathed it in. There was more to that scent, though. There was a hint of spiciness too. Before him, display fridges were filled with choice cuts, gleaming pink and red. He glanced up and saw fat-speckled salami hanging. Different widths, different lengths, and from the looks of it, different varieties. At the end of the room another fridge displayed prosciutto, pre-cut salami, pancetta and coppa, as well as cheeses, olives and sun-dried tomatoes. He strolled over for a closer look. Not just any cheese, a range of goat’s cheese – chèvre, brie, blue. Sitting alongside those were camembert, gouda, cheddar, with a sign stating all products were produced locally. This wasn’t a butchery, it was foodie heaven. An idea occurred to him…
Jody burst through the door, her eyes wild with panic. ‘Where’s Mr Thompson?’ She craned her neck over the meat-filled fridges. ‘Don’t tell me he’s stormed off in a rage.’ She gnawed at her lower lip. ‘What have you done, Christian?’
‘I’ve done nothing. But I have a way to get what we want.’
‘Done? Who’s done what?’ A tall, burly man clomped his way towards them. White boots slapping on the tiled floor.
‘Mr Thompson!’ Jody squeaked. ‘We were wondering where you were…’
Christian grabbed Jody’s hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping it would convey she could trust him. That he wasn’t going to blow it. She snatched it away and shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim shorts.
‘Finally, I get to meet the great Mr Thompson. It’s an absolute pleasure, sir.’ Christian offered his hand to Mr Thompson, who looked at it with suspicion. Christian dropped his hand. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy a sell as he’d thought. He cleared his throat. ‘Right, so, um, as much as I’d like to make this a social occasion, Jody and I are here on business. I hear you’re refusing to give the okay for the festival to take place in the main street.’
‘It’ll ruin a day’s takings.’ Mr Thompson picked up a knife and steel from his butcher’s block and began to sharpen it vigorously. ‘I don’t know who you are, but if you knew anything about Rabbits Leap, you’d know it’s not the kind of place where a person can afford to lose a day’s takings.’
‘I understand that, Mr Thompson, I do. But it’s imperative you give us the okay today. The festival is just under three weeks away. Tickets have been sold, in fact they’ve sold out.’ The fib rolled off his tongue. Sometimes you had to expand on the truth to get what you wanted. ‘And if we don’t hold it here, we’ll have to beg a farmer to lease us some land. An expense we were hoping to avoid, as we’re aiming to raise enough money to revitalise the community pool.’
‘You mean the community pool I’ve never swum in and am not likely to. So why should I care?’ A slab of eye fillet was slapped on the block and sliced efficiently.
‘Look, here’s what I’m proposing. You give us the okay and we…’
Something warm and soft gripped his hand, squeezed it. Jody’s hand. Did she really think he was going to resort to blackmail? The idea was tempting, but you didn’t get anywhere with people by screwing them down with threats. You just had to make them see why your way was better.
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