so sweetly matched his steps to Poppy’s that the judges had absolutely no doubt about awarding them Best in Show. There was a box of Smarties for Poppy and a huge red rosette and Bonios for Priceless – whereupon Drummond erupted into the ring to punch his sister and kick Priceless’s long, delicate legs.
‘Stop it, you little bugger,’ screamed Etta, dragging him off and shaking him. ‘Don’t you dare hurt Poppy and Priceless,’ and was awarded the biggest round of applause of the day.
Thank God Drummond’s parents had been temporarily hijacked by Ione, manning the Green stall, who urged them to share a bath every night, wash their clothes in the water and syphon it off afterwards to use on their plants.
‘Did you know,’ she told Martin sternly, ‘dripping taps waste four litres a day and sprinklers use a thousand litres an hour? Why not invest in this lavatory hippo which saves three litres a day?’
Martin didn’t seem keen, so Ione tried to persuade Romy to buy some of the scent she’d made from olive, jasmine and lavender oils.
‘Do buy a bottle, Rosie.’
‘A beautiful woman never has to buy her own perfume,’ said Martin roguishly. ‘Come on, dear, I’m pulling in the tug-of-war soon.’
Scuttling back to the plant stall, Etta passed books, cards and bric-a-brac, where she was amused to see a large yellow teapot hadn’t yet sold.
‘How,’ fulminated Debbie, ‘did the vicar get a first in sweet peas when he hasn’t got a garden?’
Convinced by Woody that he had a great body, Niall was winning back his spurs in Willowwood by sitting in the stocks flashing his six-pack and having wet sponges hurled at him by the village children.
‘I’ll share a bath with you any time,’ murmured Woody, as he dried Niall with a big blue towel.
‘Thought he was wet enough already,’ sneered Shagger, who’d been away murdering wildlife in Scotland with Toby and Phoebe. He was not the only person to notice a tendresse between Niall and Woody. Shagger was consequently in a belligerent mood, stirring up trouble.
Mrs Wilkinson had been confined to box rest for two and a half months now. Even if she recovered it would take three or four months to get her match-fit. All round the fête field, little pools of discontent were bubbling. Why should they go on forking out £185 a month for Mrs Wilkinson to eat grass?
‘Surely Mrs Bancroft isn’t the answer for getting a horse right?’ grumbled Bolton to Charlie Radcliffe, who shrugged his shoulders.
‘These things take time, you can’t hurry horses.’
Matters weren’t helped that even with a drought and rock-hard ground, which would have suited Mrs Wilkinson, Marius had taken on Doggie and Not for Crowe and found a race bad enough for the latter to come in third. Joey, Woody and Jase were still celebrating, rather too triumphantly for the rest of the syndicate.
To the rage of Direct Debbie and Ione Travis-Lock, Valent’s roses, which had been nurtured by Etta, won the Millennium Trophy for Best in Show.
A merry party was gathering round the Fox’s Pimm’s stall. Miss Painswick, who’d been taking money at the gate, was brought over by Alan. On the way he gathered up Tilda and bought them both a drink.
‘You look tired, darling,’ Alan murmured to Tilda. ‘We’ve missed you at the races. Do say you’re depressed and we can have lunch and I’ll interview you for my book.’
‘I bought your book on Swinburne at the book stall,’ said Tilda blushing. ‘Would you sign it for me?’
Trixie, in a very short white smock, turned all the men’s heads as she walked round with Chisolm, who was now trying to eat Priceless’s red rosette.
‘Buy me a drink, Dad,’ she asked Alan.
Within seconds, Seth had drifted up and given her a kiss. ‘Hi, “my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?”’ Then he handed her a Pimm’s. ‘How’s your love life?’
‘“There is not one among but I dote on his very absence,”’ replied Trixie, tossing her shaggy mane.
‘Good girl,’ murmured Seth, ‘you’ve watched my DVD.’
‘It’s cool,’ admitted Trixie. ‘Oh bugger, here comes Malvolio.’
‘Hello, Seth. Hello, Trixie,’ Martin tugged his niece’s hair, ‘got your results yet?’
‘Next week.’
‘Your aunt Romy needs some help on the Nearly New stall,’ Martin said pointedly. Trixie ignored him, so he turned back to Seth. ‘I need your help.’
‘Hide your wallet,’ hissed Trixie.
‘I’ve got to make a DVD for our War on Obesity charity, wonder if you and Corinna could give me a bit of coaching. May I drop in?’