The Great Village Show (30 page)

I can see the headline already:
Local acting head teacher romps in field with celebrity chef on show day …
Cringe!

‘For crying out loud, woman!’ Dan bellows, before marching us over to the basket. ‘Now, get in there and tell me,
honestly
, that we don’t need to talk. That you don’t like me. Even just a little bit?’ he says, with a particularly cocky and arrogant smile on his face.

‘Like you? You must be joking,’ I protest, doing my scary teacher face as Dan gently lowers me over the side of the basket before hurdling over himself.

‘Take us up,’ he commands, in his uniquely rude way, to the pilot – a fifty-something man who, on instantly recognising Dan Wright, celebrity chef and culinary bad boy, immediately does as he’s told, giving the signal for the guys on the ground to release the basket from the holding strings.

‘Say
please
!’ I can’t resist telling Dan, as the balloon starts to rise and my tummy flips.

‘
Please
!’ Dan pouts over his shoulder to the pilot, before grabbing both of my hands and drawing them in close to his chest. ‘Now, will you please drop the scary teacher act and just tell me … admit it!’

‘Admit what?’ I say, trying not to look into his raging eyes.

‘You know what! That you like me?’ And he stares intently, and I can’t be sure, as it’s brief, but a flicker of something darts across his face. Doubt, maybe? Uncertainty? Is he nervous again? I can’t be sure. ‘There’s something there, isn’t there?’

‘Stop it!’ I say, determined not to get caught out again. I pull my hands free and take a step back.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asks, moving towards me.

‘Look, Dan, I don’t know what I feel, to be honest. But you can’t just turn up here after leaving me, and Tindledale, with no idea about what was happening with the juice bar, the food trucks – you didn’t even say goodbye! And what about your girlfriend? The woman you rang from my house? The woman who means everything to you? The woman you love! What does she think about you turning up here again out of the blue demanding to know if I like you?’

I turn to look away, drawing in the intoxicating view, the people and fields and trees below us, growing smaller and smaller as our balloon drifts up into the air, giving way to a picture-perfect cloudless blue sky. I can’t bear to look back at him, but suddenly I feel his arm on my shoulder. He turns me around towards him, and is grinning like some kind of crazy looper.

‘What?’ I ask him, crossly. ‘What is it now?’

‘You really are the most infuriating person I have ever met!’

‘Meeeee?’ I retort, unable to believe his flaming brazenness. ‘
You are
, more like!’ I go to move away from him, but Dan pulls me closer.

‘My sister,’ he smiles. ‘My gorgeous, sad, useless-in-love sister, Anna, who had just had yet another bust-up with her equally useless boyfriend. That’s who I was talking to. And I’m really sorry that I left in such a hurry, I truly am, but Anna needed me; she can get very low, and, well …’ He stops talking and looks away.

‘Oh,’ I mumble, feeling like an utter idiot. A short silence follows. ‘I’m sorry, I got carried away, I guess, and, um …’ I pause. ‘Is Anna OK?’ I quickly ask.

‘Yes, she’s fine now.’ Dan looks into my eyes. ‘Thank you. You do understand, don’t you? I’m all she has, since our parents went; there’s nobody else to keep an eye on her,’ he explains quietly, and I nod before reaching a hand out to touch his, as suddenly he seems weary, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

We’re heading south now towards Tindledale, to the High Street, I can see the village square with the commemorative stone, and is that Fern? Yes it is! Wow, she’s laughing and chatting to Lawrence and a group of people with clipboards. One even has a camera; maybe she’s giving an interview to the village show judges! I sure hope so, as that will really boost our chances of a top ten place. I can see the war memorial now and I spot the tiny flicker of a candle in the lantern that Kitty lights for Ed on special occasions – yes, of course, I remember, it’s his birthday! And I gasp. It’s so emotive – the whole village scene is spectacular, magical and special. We float on down the hill until we reach Hettie’s House of Haberdashery, where Hettie, Sybs and Dr Ben are standing outside on the path waving up at us – I give them a big wave back as we travel on. I can see the duck pond on the village green now, and the bandstand that’s been erected especially for show day, the white marquees and all the people sitting in their stripy deckchairs. I wonder if Mum is still there, getting sozzled on Pimm’s, no doubt. And I can’t help smiling, as she may be an acquired taste, my mother, but I’ve actually enjoyed having her around. I feel my spirits lifting as we fly higher again, relishing enjoying the fruits of all our hard work from this unique viewpoint. I can’t stop smiling, suddenly feeling all the weight of expectation and worry lifting from my shoulders. We’re drifting over the Duck & Puddle pub now and I can see people in the garden, children and dogs darting around, having fun in the sun on the grass.

Dan coughs dramatically to get my attention.

‘Are you going to answer me?’ he asks, giving my hands a gentle squeeze.

‘Um, sorry?’ I lean in so he can hear me over the sudden whooshing noise of the gas as it’s released up into the balloon to keep us afloat.

But Dan doesn’t ask me again; instead, he lifts my chin and presses his mouth on to mine, hard on my lips, which immediately sting from the sheer force of his kiss. And whoosh! The same feeling comes over me as I had that time in the kitchen. I’m sizzling like a just-lit touchpaper, my body feels as if it’s on fire, and my stomach is swirling – flipping, in fact – over and over so much that it makes me feel dizzy. The air. The sky all around me. The gentle warm breeze in my hair as we float on over my beloved Tindledale.

I can feel my body relaxing now, releasing, letting go as I melt into Dan’s embrace, his lips softening, kissing me tenderly too, and I kiss him back before drawing my hands free from his and flinging them around his neck. I can’t help myself. In this moment, I feel happy and light. I haven’t felt this way in such a long time – if ever, in fact – and I don’t want the feeling to end.

Eventually, we break apart. Dan’s forehead is resting on mine, and then he moves his mouth up to kiss the bridge of my nose. We both laugh, unsure really of what to say, until Dan gently turns me around. Standing behind me, he places his arms around my back to rest his hands on the edge of the basket in front of me, and we just stand, together, silently embracing the view all around us, the fields dotted with sheep and buttercups and cows and hedgerows and farms and flowers. Now we’re floating above my school; my great village school with the clock tower on the gabled roof, the tiny patch of tarmac for a playground. I quickly close my eyes and do a silent prayer, a wish, asking for it please to stay open. I even cross my fingers.

‘It’ll be fine. You’ll see,’ Dan whispers in my ear, as though reading my thoughts.

‘I hope so,’ I say, turning my face sideways up to his, but it’s no use, he’s so tall and my head barely reaches his shoulder, so I have to turn around properly to face him. He lifts a stray lock of hair away from my eyes.

‘Tell me,’ he asks again, before quickly adding a very polite, ‘please?’

And I hesitate, but only momentarily because I can’t deny it any longer, damn it! Dan flaming Wright is very attractive indeed – in a brutish, maverick, and quite frankly
rude
way. But a man with the audacity to sweep a woman off her feet, literally, before dumping her into a giant basket and kissing her hard on the lips up high in the air has to be worth a shot. And maybe Lawrence was right; perhaps it is time for me to broaden my horizons.

I look up and into Dan’s eyes.

I smile and tell him.

‘Yes!’

And maybe Tindledale
can
do with the likes of Dan Wright, after all …

S
ummertime, and the air is laden with the heavenly sweet aroma from the candyfloss stand on the far side of the village green. Carousel music drifts towards us as we reach the merry-go-round, and I just know that today is going to be a glorious day. A marquee takes pride of place in the centre, dazzling against the blue and white scudding sky, with Sybs’ polka-dot bunting stretching all the way over to the Duck & Puddle pub sign, which is swaying gently on its hinges in the warm breeze.

‘Hello Miss Singer.’ It’s Lily, on top of Mark’s shoulders, one hand gripping her left ankle, the other slipped around a woman’s hand.

‘Hi Lily, Mark,’ I nod, smiling at the woman, who smiles back as I reach up to give Lily’s hand a tweak.

‘Meg, this is—’ Mark starts, going to introduce me to the woman, but Lily, looking as if she’s about to burst with excitement, tells me instead.

‘Her name is Belle, just like the princess. And Daddy
really likes
her. He told me.
And
I saw them kissing,’ she giggles, before dipping her face down to do a squelchy kiss on the top of Mark’s bald head, and we all laugh.

‘Nice to meet you, Belle, I’m Meg.’ We shake hands.

‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ Belle says. Maybe we could meet up for a coffee some time – I’m a speech therapist.’ She beams openly.

‘Ooh, yes, we must. That would be lovely,’ I say, wondering if she might be up for doing some sessions with Archie Armstrong now that I’m no longer able to.

‘And I hear congratulations are in order,’ Belle says.

‘Thank you,’ I reply, feeling thrilled that it’s now official.

I’ve officially been confirmed as the new head teacher at Tindledale Village School, which has won a reprieve. The inspectors said they were very impressed by my dedication to the school and the wider community, and also with our varied curriculum and nurturing environment. Not to mention another Outstanding Ofsted rating, and the influx of new pupils, ten from the new houses down by the station, eight transfers from St Cuthbert’s, Ash and Yasmin’s five children and Jessie’s triplets, of course. The new baby will be coming soon, too. Talking of which, Jessie’s divorce eventually came through and she now lives in a cottage in the village with Sam, blissfully happy spending time with her new family, while cultivating honey from the hives in their garden, and then writing about it for her new column in the
Home Farmer
magazine. Plus we have a few new families that moved here from London – Tindledale made it into the top ten in the national village show competition, which meant we were included in the Sunday supplement spread, complete with a lovely picture of the commemorative stone that now has Highly Commended inscribed on it, too. And then, shortly after that, Vicky and Gabe popped round to my cottage one evening to share the most wonderful news – they had been approved to adopt two sisters, and brought them home to Tindledale in time for Christmas – they’ve just started at my village school too.

After saying goodbye, I walk on over to the marquee to deliver my gifts – three framed cross-stitch samplers with definitely no spelling errors on this time – one for each of the new babies. That’s why we’re all here on the village green, in fact, to celebrate the triple christenings of Florence and Henrietta (or Hettie as she’s fondly known, named after Hettie senior who owns the haberdashery shop), born to Sybs and Dr Ben. The twins arrived last month, and then Billy, who was born a fortnight ago to Cher and Sonny. Sonny is, rumour has it, planning on proposing to Cher today. I can’t wait to see that. If it’s half as romantic as Dr Ben’s proposal to Sybs in the snow at Christmas time, a year to the day after their first kiss, followed by their spring wedding a few months ago on the village green, then it’ll be truly magical.

‘Thanks so much, Meg,’ Sybs leans in to give me a hug after taking the presents from me. ‘Ooh, Lawrence was looking for you earlier,’ she says. ‘He said to ask if you can pop over to the village square,’ she glances at her watch, ‘um, five minutes ago.’ She laughs. ‘Quick, you’d better hurry.’

‘Oh, OK, thanks,’ I say, thinking it a bit odd. I wonder why he’s there and not here on the green at the party with everyone else.

After walking from the village green to the square, I instantly see why. Lawrence is beaming as he leans against the bus stop, because standing inside the bus shelter, with a rucksack over his shoulder, and holding Taylor’s hand, is Jack.

My heart soars.

‘What are you doing here?’ I yell, instantly running to Jack to pull him in for a massive cuddle. ‘Oh Jack, why didn’t you tell me you were coming home for the summer? Or you, Taylor? You never said a word,’ I breathe, breaking away from Jack to grin at them both. ‘What a wonderful surprise. I’m so happy to see you. Here, let me look at you properly,’ I say, flipping open his jacket.

‘Muuuuuum! Stop it, I’m fine,’ he says, batting my hand away and laughing.

‘Are you sure? You look like you’ve lost weight,’ I say, not having seen him since Christmas – he took Taylor camping at half-term. They’re boyfriend and girlfriend now, after a bumpy start, because Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted to be in a long-distance relationship having just started at uni, and then he confided in me that Taylor had a pregnancy scare, that’s why she was so keen to talk to him last summer, fearing that he’d ‘loved her and left her’ as it were. Anyway, they’re happily together now and it seems to be working out well for them both.

‘Yes Mum!’ Jack insists. ‘I’m fine. But I sure could do with one of Dan’s outstandingly good burgers,’ he grins, linking his arm through mine as we all make our way back over to the village green where Dan is doing the food for the christening party.

After our hot-air balloon ride, Dan and I spent plenty of time together getting to know each other better. He explained that he had never come to Tindledale intending to open a new restaurant – he’d come here for some much-needed R&R. He was suffering from a severe case of restaurant burn-out, or ‘paparazzi bullshit’, as he so eloquently put it.

‘That’s why I felt permanently angry,’ he told me the evening after the hot-air balloon ride. We were sitting on the sofa in my cottage, sipping elderflower wine. He had his arm round my shoulders, his right ankle resting on his left knee (he is a bit of a ‘spreader’, it has to be admitted), and was stroking my hair. ‘I hated how I got caught up in the celebrity of it all, forced to be deliberately provocative.’