‘Hush,’ smiled Etta, ‘Drummond can be a sweetheart.’
As they heard a crash from outside, Etta ran to the window.
‘You little beast,’ she screamed.
Drummond had tipped all her bulbs on to the tarmac, mixing and scattering pink, white, dark blue, light blue and dark red underneath his father’s Range Rover.
‘Such a sweetheart,’ said Alan.
78
Desperate for events to hold the syndicate together, Etta was relieved so many members were going to meet at the village fête and flower show held in Farmer Fred’s big field next to the cricket pitch at the end of August.
Although Pocock, Craig Green, Ione and Debbie were expected to win most of the cups, the morning of the fête saw many Willowwood residents sloping off to the local farm shop to buy vegetables, fruit and flowers to pass off as their own in the various classes. The Major, as president of the fête, was very much in command, and finding no water in his rain gauge, had rightly forecast a fine sunny day.
Lester Bolton had donated half a dozen of Cindy’s steamiest DVDs to the tombola. The Major had hastily confiscated them and was looking forward to a good watch in his den later. His most exciting duty of the day, however, was to look after Corinna, who had returned briefly from a triumphant tour in The Deep Blue C-word (as Seth called it) to open the fête and remind everyone how beautiful she was.
Wearing a huge, shocking-pink picture hat and a scarlet suit, which showed off her splendid bosom and the still slender legs that had captivated audiences in the stalls for so many years, she allowed the Major gallantly to lead her on to the platform and urge the big crowds and stallholders to ‘gather round’.
Corinna’s speech, written by Seth and Alan, was meant to be a witty take-off of an Oscars acceptance speech, in order to make the inevitable list of thank-yous less tedious.
Corinna’s voice could carry to Larkminster but had to compete with a screeching, ear-splittingly loud loudspeaker and the local brass band tuning up. She also made the mistake of ending by quoting lengthily from ‘The Land’ by Vita Sackville-West, from ‘The country habit has me by the heart’, to its lovely last line: ‘only here/Lies peace after uneasy truancy.’ She then ruined the peace by screaming at the band to ‘bloody well SHUT UP!’
‘She didn’t thank anyone,’ stormed Debbie, ‘or exhort everyone to spend, spend, spend and dig deep in their pockets.’
‘She completely forgot to say that it costs ninety-five pounds a day for the upkeep of St James’s, that’s thirty-five thousand a year,’ snorted Ione.
‘We first asked darling Bonny Richards to open the fête,’ Romy was telling everyone, ‘but tragically she’s filming.’
Fortunately the Larkminster Echo, which had got stuck behind one of Farmer Fred’s combines, arrived after Corinna had finished and were terribly grateful when she gave them the original typescript.
‘Keep it, my dear, I always write a new speech.’
‘How are you enjoying being a member of the Willowwood syndicate?’ asked the reporter.
‘Alas, I’m hardly ever able to see Mrs Wilkinson run because I’m always working. I so envy Bonny Richards, who’s been free to lead her in several times.’
The Major was hovering. ‘Are you ready to do a tour of the stalls? Your public awaits you.’
What a beautiful setting, thought Etta, the trees dark, dark green against the parched, cracked yellow of the grass, the pale green leaves of the willows already turning gold, blending in with their gold stems, curling black and yellow leaves already littering the ground. Children shrieked with joy on the bouncy castle, steam engines chooed, and Chris and Chrissie from the Fox were doing a roaring trade in Pimm’s laced with cucumber and strawberries.
Mrs Wilkinson was still confined to barracks, but Chisolm, like a carer freed for the afternoon, left an even longer trail of shrieking children as she slyly nicked one ice cream or candy floss after another. She was now eyeing up the fancy cake stall.
‘I’ve seen Seth Bainton, I’ve seen Corinna, I haven’t seen Bonny,’ cried the crowd.
Etta, so broke she had no money to spend, was helping Alban on the plant stall, which gave him the excuse to touch her hand and exchange meaningful glances over the delphiniums.
Etta sidled off, however, to watch the dog show judged by Corinna and Charlie Radcliffe. Drummond had shown no interest in walking Priceless, who had been bathed, polished and buffed to gleaming ebony by Tommy and Etta, and who