The Great Village Show (12 page)

‘Really? Well, that would be wonderful. I’ve been meaning to organise it all, but what with the move, and um …’ Jessie pauses and I can hear her letting out a long breath, as if she’s really stressed, ‘err, everything else,’ she continues.

‘Well, not to worry. I can help you sort it all out,’ I assure her, hoping she’s OK. Moving house can be such a difficult time, it’s no wonder she’s feeling the pressure. But I feel bad now, I really shouldn’t have added to her burden by asking her to do a talk about bees for my children.

‘Great. Can I ask you about something else, please?’ and she sounds more relaxed now, more down to earth too. Oh well, maybe I’ve got it wrong.

‘Sure. I’m happy to help if I can,’ I say brightly, waving at the window again as Gabe lifts a trowel in the air to signify that he’s finished his gardening for the day. Vicky appears on the footpath with a mug of tea and a packet of custard cream biscuits for him. He gives her a kiss on the lips as she hands him the mug. Ahh, they’re such a lovely couple, but sadly no children yet, and not for want of trying, Vicky had her fourth miscarriage last Christmas and it was terribly sad; she had just got past the three-month stage and was tentatively beginning to believe it would happen this time. She had even asked if I might do a cross-stitch sampler for the baby’s bedroom, which Gabe had started decorating.

I inhale sharply and shift my focus back to Jessie.

‘I heard that there was a knitting group in the village – do you know anything about it? Like, who I should contact about joining?’ she asks.

‘Oooh yes, the Tindledale Tappers, they meet in Hettie’s House of Haberdashery. It’s a little way out of the village, but very popular; in fact it’s not far from you – just along the lane, on the way to the Blackwood Farm Estate. They run all sorts of crafting classes as well and, to be honest, the shop has become a bit of a social hub recently. Some people just pop in for a cup of tea and a chat … a gossip, and to buy a gift or whatever, not to do any actual craftwork,’ I laugh, remembering the last time I was there for the cross-stitch class. There was barely room to swing a small feral farm cat, there were that many of us squeezed on to the sofas and armchairs. Sybs even had to turf a very disgruntled Basil off his favourite spot on the window seat to make room for Marigold, who was standing stoically, trying to be a martyr, until her sciatica kicked in. ‘I’m sure you would be made to feel very welcome. Just call in whenever you’re passing and ask to talk to Sybs – she’s the manager.’

‘Oh, that sounds perfect, thank you. Maybe I’ll sign up for a class too … as soon as I have some proper childcare in place.’ And I’m sure I hear her sighing again.

‘Well, how about bringing the triplets to the nursery? It’s attached to my school, so it’ll be the perfect opportunity for them to meet the other children from the village, especially as some of them will be in their class come September,’ I say, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the uncertainty in my voice.

I shall have to get some answers from the inspectors or, better still, I’ll call the council and insist on talking to the decision-makers. I might even get on the bus to Market Briar and go into their offices. Ha! They can hardly keep me waiting around if I’m standing right there in front of them. And then my imagination spirals – I could stage a sit-in, force them to give me more time to show what Tindledale and my lovely little school is all about – or persuade them to at least wait until after the village show. If we make it into the top ten, it’ll have a massive impact, I’m convinced of it.

‘Can I just do that?’ Jessie asks.

‘Sure. Pop into school tomorrow and ask for me, and then I’ll introduce you to Becky. She runs the nursery.’

‘Wonderful. And thanks so much. I’m so pleased I called you now,’ and she sounds really relieved. ‘So, getting back to the village show – would it be OK just to turn up for that too, do you think?’ and the anxiety in her voice is back once more. She sounds reluctant to do this, which I guess is perfectly understandable. I remember Jack telling me about the time when Sybs first arrived in Tindledale – he was doing a shift collecting glasses in the Duck & Puddle and she staggered in through the door covered in snow, dragging an enormous wheelie suitcase, and everyone stopped and stared for a good two minutes at least. Typical Tindledale villagers, they can be very wary of newcomers until they get to know you. But I’ve instantly warmed to Jessie, even though there’s something about her that I can’t quite put my finger on. I’m sure we could be friends. And didn’t Lawrence say that I needed to broaden my horizons? Well, here’s my chance to do just that and be a good neighbour.

‘We could go together if you like,’ I suggest, and there’s a short pause. ‘Why don’t we meet outside the pub? There’s a meeting on Friday, it starts at six, so how about I see you just before then by the benches opposite – near the duck pond?’ I finish.

‘Oh yes, I know. I took the triplets there to feed the ducks. It brought back such lovely memories …’ Her voice fades.

‘Memories?’ I venture. I’m intrigued to find out a little bit more about her.

‘Yes, I grew up in a village – quite similar to Tindledale, it was. My mum used to take me to the pond near the village green with a hunk of stale bread under my arm. And we always had such a good time.’

‘Mine did too!’ I tell her. ‘How did you come to be living in London then?

‘My husband is the Londoner,’ she tells me.

‘I see. But he came to his senses then?’ I laugh, but Jessie doesn’t join in.

‘Does your husband work near here then?’ I continue, wondering if I’ve offended her, insulted her husband somehow. Oh dear. I push a chunk of hair back behind my ear and plough on, ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosey …’

‘No, it’s fine, really …’ she says graciously. ‘My husband is abroad for a lot of the time. Zurich, mainly; he works for a Swiss bank.’

‘Oooh, that sounds exciting. Does he bring you back lots of chocolate?’ I ask her, that being the first thing that springs to mind when I think of Switzerland.

‘I’d love to go to the meeting with you,’ she says, completely sidestepping my question. ‘That would be wonderful, if you’re sure?’

‘Um, yes,’ I say firmly, still feeling a bit thrown by the swerve in conversation. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Oh, but what about the children? I’m guessing the nursery is closed at that time,’ and Jessie actually laughs – it’s a soft, short laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

‘Oh bring the triplets with you – everyone else brings their children.’ I laugh too. ‘They can bounce on the inflatable castle with all the other children from the village.’

‘Thank you! In that case I shall really look forward to it. And I’ll be sure to pop into the school tomorrow to see Becky.’

I smile as I put the phone down, pleased to have done my good deed for the day and feeling much better than I had earlier. I was right – Tindledale doesn’t need the likes of egotistical celebrity chefs. Jessie and her triplets are much more the type of people the village needs – and she’s obviously making an effort to get involved in village life and help the community. It’s more than can be said for Dan Wright – huge hypocrite that he is. Coming here to open a restaurant, when he absolutely hates Tindledale! Well, it’s not on, and I fully intend on telling him so next time I have the misfortune of bumping into him!

F
eeling buoyed up after going for it and making the call, Jessie smiled and pondered on the amazing difference being involved in the Great Village Show was about to make to her and the children’s lives. She loved the idea of the teddy bears’ picnic in the woods as well – talking about bees in a rural idyll would really make her feel the way she used to, growing up in the countryside – and such a wonderful experience for the children to enjoy too. And Meg sounded so lovely, warm and welcoming, and it was going to be so much easier walking into the meeting with a friendly face beside her – the acting head teacher, no less. Jessie knew how village life worked, and when the villagers saw her, the newcomer, with a longstanding Tindledale resident, they were bound to make her feel welcome.

Jessie glowed as she pencilled ‘Village Show meeting’ into Friday’s slot on her kitchen wall calendar after placing the phone back on its base.

‘About time!’ Sebastian appeared back in the kitchen doorway. ‘Only ten minutes now until the car comes! And who were you talking to?’ he grilled her, tugging at the sleeves of his turquoise cotton shirt in an overly dramatic way. Jessie opened her mouth to reply, but Sebastian battled on, huffing and puffing as he inspected the sleeves once more. ‘It’s no good. This shirt looks like a used dishrag and hardly a good first impression for me to give to the new CEO in Zurich. Are they all like this?’ And he strode over to the neatly folded pile of shirts on the central marble island and started rifling through, shaking each shirt out in turn to scrutinise it.

Jessie inhaled sharply, determined to hold on to her upbeat mood, but it quickly dissipated when Sebastian dumped two of the shirts back in the laundry basket on the floor beside the ironing board.

‘They need doing again.’

‘
Please
,’ Jessie muttered to herself, flicking the radio back on so the music masked her voice, before lifting the first shirt on to the ironing board as Sebastian went to walk out of the kitchen. Ten more minutes! That was all. And he’d be on his way to the airport, and then Jessie could relax and really get on with integrating into village life and making everything nice for her and the children.

Jessie allowed herself a small smile as she carefully poured more water into the steam iron, wondering if Sam would call her again this evening. She really hoped so – chatting to him gave her courage; made her feel strong, and much more like her old self. And with Sebastian so far away in Switzerland, it would give her some much-needed space to work everything out in her head – work out how she really felt about Sam and everything that had happened since he had come back into her life, now refusing to give up on her.

‘What’s this?’ Sebastian’s voice cut through her thoughts. Jessie turned to see him tapping an index finger on the wall calendar.

‘Oh, the village show … there’s a meeting on Friday evening, so I thought I’d pop along and see if I can get involved,’ she said cautiously.

‘Get involved!’ he replied, incredulously. ‘What on earth for?’

‘Um, well, I thought it would be a good way for us to make new friends …’ Jessie pressed the button on the iron to release the steam and smoothed out the sleeve of the first shirt.

‘And what about the children?’

‘They can come along too. There’s a bouncy castle and—’ Jessie stopped talking as Sebastian silenced her with a raised palm, standing squarely in front of her.

‘Seems you have it all worked out,’ he stated, staring at the ironing board between them.

‘The head teacher at the village school invited me to go along with her, so we’re going to meet outside the pub,’ Jessie replied, hoping this might appease him, seeing as it would also be the perfect opportunity to find out if there were three spaces for the triplets at her school, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

‘The
pub
?’ he expostulated. ‘You mean to tell me that you are dragging the children along to a
pub
, on a Friday night, just so you can gossip with your new best friend?’

‘Darling, it’s not like that,’ Jessie started. ‘The meeting is in the pub garden; most of the villagers will be there, with their children … it’s how things are in the countryside,’ she quickly explained, and swept the iron over his shirt, taking care to create a sharp crease down the centre of the sleeve, just as he preferred.

‘Well, I don’t like it, and it’s irresponsible. And for the love of God, will you
please
stop ruining my shirts. Here, I’ll show you again,’ and Sebastian went to grab the iron from her hand, but Jessie was momentarily distracted when Millie ran into the kitchen, and the tip of the scalding hot iron landed angrily on Jessie’s arm.

‘Agggggghhhhh,’ Jessie shrieked, instinctively shrinking away. Millie stopped running and stood motionless, staring at her parents before promptly bursting into tears and turning to run back the way she had just come. Sebastian bolted after her, leaving Jessie all alone.

As Jessie held her arm under the soothing cold water, she closed her eyes and let a silent tear trickle down the side of her nose as the realisation really sank in. No matter what changes she tried to make, how she tried to make life good for her and the children here in Tindledale, all the time she was married to Sebastian, nothing would ever properly change. Jessie knew she had to break free, but how? What would Sebastian do? Could he really take the children away from her? And, if he did, what if he somehow stopped her from seeing them? What if he sent the triplets off to boarding school, as he had always planned, when they were six years old? What would that do to them? Sebastian said she was too soft on the children, but Jessie loved them, knew them – their foibles, their favourite foods, their funny ways, their fear of the dark, their fondness for a cuddle when they first woke up in the morning … she knew everything about the triplets as only their mummy could. But with his finances, not to mention his vast inheritance, which was only a matter of months away now that his mother had been moved to the hospice, Sebastian could afford the very best divorce barrister.