The Great Village Show (22 page)

‘Here.’ I dive into a cupboard to retrieve it, and quickly hand it to him.

‘Chopping board?’

‘Yes chef,’ I laugh, bringing my right hand up to the side of my head in an exaggerated salute. But before I can grab the wooden board and hand it to him right away, like a proper, efficient, fast-thinking kitchen assistant, Dan spots it next to the kettle, takes it, flips it over, and starts doing that super-fast slicing thing, making exceedingly quick work of a box-load of mushrooms.

‘For the entrée … butternut squash velouté with sautéed cep and Parmesan crisp,’ he explains, wiping his hands on a tea towel, which he then slings on to his shoulder for use throughout the whole culinary creative process, I assume.

‘Ooh, I can’t wait,’ I say, wondering what velouté and cep are. I hope I like them.

‘So, are you going to work this juice bar with me on show day?’ Dan asks, casually.

‘Um, sure, if I can … I’ll most likely have my hands full with making sure everything else stays in order and runs to time, but I’m always happy to help out if I can,’ I say, knowing there’s already a list as long as my arm of school mums who’ve already volunteered for this particular task on show day – working with Dan. ‘But won’t you be busy with your food truck?’ I ask.

‘We could always combine the two – a food truck with an impressive wine list. In actual fact, that’ll work better – we can flog the food and recommend the right wine or cordial accompaniment.’ He stops chopping to ponder. ‘And if it’s a sell-out success, then we could make it a permanent thing, what do you say? Could work well for you if they do close down your school!’ he grins and nudges me with his elbow.

‘Err, um, yes … I guess so,’ and I’m perplexed, yet again, by his bluntness. I guess he doesn’t realise how much my school means to me. ‘But what about your new restaurant?’ I quickly recover. ‘Surely you’ll be very busy with that?’

Dan gives me a blank stare and puts down his knife. ‘What new restaurant?’

‘You know, the one you’re opening in Tindledale. That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?’

‘No! What the hell gave you that idea?’ And the thunderous look he does so well makes a very rapid return.

‘Err …’ I gulp, thinking: that’ll teach me for speculating. And my heart sinks as I take in this news, wondering what it means for Tindledale then, and for my school. No exclusive Michelin-star restaurant to attract more people to the village to help boost the other local businesses. No celebrities helicoptering on to the village green. No media or TV channels doing special documentaries about Tindledale, the ‘best place to live’. No ‘putting us on the map’ after all! I can feel my cheeks flushing again as I fiddle with my rabbit necklace, and I can hardly tell Dan that Lawrence and I have been, um … gossiping about him! And if Dan isn’t here to open a new restaurant, then what’s the real purpose of his visit? To Tindledale, the place he’d rather die than have to actually live in! ‘Weell, I just assum—’ But before I can answer properly, the back door bounces open, throwing me off kilter. I swivel my head to see who it is.

And gasp.

‘
Muuum!
What are you doing here?’

‘P
laying gooseberry, by the looks of it!’ Mum exclaims, in her usual extra-exasperated voice, eyeing up Dan as she swings off her pashmina and drops her handbag on to the window seat, before propping her purple-patterned wheelie suitcase against the table leg. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had moved a boyfriend in, darling?’

Mum walks across the kitchen and engulfs Dan in a heady embrace, flinging her arms around his neck and pulling him in tight, her super-strong perfume permeating the air. And I’m aghast. Dan’s face is a picture of surprise and intrigue.

‘And quite the looker, aren’t you?’ Mum says, squeezing his cheek. ‘Very Hugh Bonneville after a bacchanalian night out.’

I want to die.

Right here on my kitchen floor, clutching Blue for comfort. Talking of which, where is he? Panicking, I near body-slam the back door shut, but Dan realises what I’m worried about and, quickly freeing himself from my mother’s clutch, he grabs my hand to stop me from racing out into the garden.

‘He’s in his cage!’ And Dan points to Blue, both little paws up near his mouth and merrily munching his way through a carrot. ‘You put him away before we went down to the dungeon, sweetheart!’ And then he twirls me into his body and plants a big, long, hard kiss on my lips, practically winding me. I gasp like a drowning person on reaching the surface when he eventually lets me go. Dan then leans backwards casually against the kitchen counter, with a very mischievous look on his face, and spreads his arms out wide.

‘Whaaaat? What dungeon?’ I stammer, my lips still smarting from his very passionate kiss, swivelling my head in his direction and then quickly back to Mum, who now has her mouth agape. Dan winks at me. And my whole body goes whoosh, and then sizzles like a lit firework, as I try to keep up with yet another swift, mercurial change in his behaviour. My stomach is actually swirling, but before I can get a proper grip on what just happened between Dan and me, Mum pipes up again.

‘Oh, don’t mind me. I’m very broadminded. Only last week, I went with my girlfriends to watch that
Fifty Shades
film. All that S&M stuff is very norm-core nowadays!’ And she plops her bottom down on my window seat before swinging one slender leg over the other and pulling out a carton of Lucky Strike, which she no doubt bought in bulk from Duty Free. Mum rips off the cellophane, takes out one packet and flips it open, before popping a cigarette in between her crimson-coated lips and adding, ‘Now, be a dear and pass me those matches over there next to the gas hob!’

*

We’re in the garden. Mum and I have just polished off Dan’s perfect lunch, with me anxious and on edge all the way through as I tried desperately, but failed, to keep the conversation to general chitchat, and definitely with no more suggestive innuendo from Mum, who it turns out decided I was pining away without Jack, and offering to ‘keep you company now that the weather has warmed up over here’ as she no longer does damp, dark English winters any more, apparently. Right on cue, in the middle of this story, Jack then called to explain to me – luckily I had taken the home phone handset out into the garden – and wanting to check that Gran had arrived. He explained to her that I was OK about South Africa, as it turned out. He also told me that he had called Taylor, and that they were now ‘cool’, and that I could call Stevie’s dad for a chat after all, and happily gave me his contact details.

So that’s all fine, but then Mum spent the whole lunch telling Dan how marvellous it is that we are living together – of course, Dan did nothing to dispel this myth; instead, he played along, seeming to enjoy seeing me squirm with embarrassment. Even leaning in to me in a caring, comfortable, fun-boyfriend way, and saying, ‘Don’t be bashful, sweetheart,’ when I tried to explain to Mum that she had got it all wrong, and that actually there was nothing going on between us, and Dan was merely here to help out with the village show. This all happened in between her regaling us with tales of how wonderful the weather is in Tenerife, and how I should seriously consider ‘giving it a go’ if my school ends up closing, to which Dan did a big guffaw on seeing my face, asking if he could come too. So Mum said of course he could and something about ‘us lovebirds, and it being so romantic’ … despite the S&M thing! I had zoned out by this point, resigned to being utterly humiliated, and having accepted that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

So now the three of us are drinking champagne – one of three bottles that Mum pulled from her wheelie suitcase after having already downed several large glasses of my elderflower fizz.

‘Top up, darling?’ Mum asks Dan, lifting the bottle of Piper whilst swiftly batting away a bee. ‘Megan’s home-brew is OK, but it’s practically non-alcoholic. Time for the good stuff.
Salud!
’ she giggles, ignoring Dan, who’s shaking his head as he goes to put his hand over the top of his glass, but she just bats that away too and fills the glass anyway, until it’s almost brimming over. ‘Sooo, where did you learn to cook like that, Dan? You’re very good – have you ever considered doing it professionally? I have a friend who owns a Spanish paella place in Playas De Las Americas and he’s always on the look-out for decent chefs – they never stay, you see!’ And after doing an extra-long draw on her cigarette and puffing it up into the beautiful, bright blue and
very clean
Tindledale sky, Mum actually leans forward and pats Dan’s knee, as if she’s bestowing some kind of special wisdom. ‘No, they come for the summer and then scarper when the tips dry up during the winter months, so if you play your cards right I could put in a good word for you!’

And forget my earlier feelings of resignation, I now just want to die all over again. Instead, I clear the dishes from the table and beat a hasty retreat back inside.

‘Ooh, Megan, bring me a blanket back with you, love, please, it’s getting very chilly out here,’ Mum calls after me, putting on her pretend ffffffreeeezing voice. I glance at the barometer on the doorframe – hmm, seventy degrees Fahrenheit, so on a par with the Canary Islands then – hardly arctic, as she’s making out. ‘OK, but I’m going to the bathroom first,’ I yell back in a grumpy voice. I take a deep breath and close my eyes momentarily, wondering if she’s planning on staying for the whole summer. If so, I’m going to have to get used to being publicly humiliated. And in my head I’m already concocting ways of keeping Mum away from the rest of the villagers, my school, and our Great Village Show. Jesus, I can’t let her anywhere near the judges – heaven knows what she might come out with. No, my mother is a flaming liability!

Feeling frustrated and quite ludicrous, I near sling the plates and cutlery into the dishwasher, before giving the door a hefty kick with my bunny-clad right foot. Then I disappear into the bathroom, just to give myself a moment of normality. I feel as if I’ve slipped into some sort of parallel universe. And I still need to work out exactly what happened when Dan kissed me. The sizzling sensation on my lips is still very, very much there and, dare I say it, I think I might want to experience that moment all over again. Damn it! And of all the people, it had to be him. Dan flaming Wright, who is actually OK some of the time, but for much of the rest of the time he’s volatile, crass, maverick and a … oh, I don’t know, a …
troglodyte
, I guess could fit – dictionary meaning is ‘crude, savage person’, according to one of the Year Six pupils, who’d written it in his English essay and then explained it to me when I tested his comprehension.

I pull the door to, lock it, and sit on the closed toilet seat, resting my head in my hands, wondering what would have happened today if Mum hadn’t turned up. Why did Dan kiss me? Was it purely to play along with Mum’s inference? Or to get a rise out of me? A reaction? Maybe that’s just his sense of humour, he likes playing games, it’s what he finds funny … taking the mickey out of people. I remember again the ‘country bumpkin’ comment, but that was a long time ago. I would have thought he’d have grown out of all that stuff by now. Oh, to be honest, I really don’t know what to think, but something I do know is that I can’t get Dan out of my head now. And what about what happened in the cellar? The humid air down there was charged, for sure. It’s so mystifying, and I’m not sure I like feeling this way. Confused, and with no sense of control. I shake my head as if to clear the discombobulating thoughts from my mind, and can now hear Mum and Dan talking through the open window – my bathroom is on the ground floor off the kitchen, as it is in lots of these old cottages in Tindledale.

Mum is speaking. ‘So how did you meet Megan?’

‘It was here in the village – on the bridge in the garden at Lawrence’s place—’ Dan starts.

‘Oh, were you living in the B&B?’ Mum asks nosily, and I’m guessing Dan has nodded in reply, because she then adds, ‘Never mind, darling, I know how hard it is for you youngsters to find an affordable place to live. That’s why I bought this cottage for my Megan. But you don’t have to worry about any of that now. And isn’t Lawrence lovely? Did you know he was gay – although he hides it very well, don’t you think?’ and Mum actually lowers her voice when she says the word ‘gay’, and seemingly sees nothing wrong in assuming that Lawrence would have to set out to deliberately obscure his sexuality, like we are still living in the 1950s or something. Oh God. I press my head further into my hands. She really has no filter whatsoever, and doesn’t even wait for Dan to reply. ‘And with a heart of gold. Lawrence has been
very good
with my Megan,’ she goes on in a voice that now makes me sound as if I’m some sort of half-wit who needs special care.

I stand up and reach across the bath to go to close the window, unable to listen to any more of her nonsense. But then I hesitate, arm in mid-air. I can hear Dan talking now.

‘Yes, Lawrence is a great guy – in fact, if it wasn’t for him, then I don’t think I’d be here with Meg now …’ And it sounds as if he’s pleased, happy with this outcome. That’s nice, but why then, earlier, did he seem to delight in seeing me squirm?