The Combemouth Summer Festival and Country Fair kicked off on Saturday and the vicar’s hard work and prayers were rewarded by dry sunny weather. Most of the activity was scheduled to take place in marquees on the large green in front of St Cuthbert’s Church. Every bit of wall was decked out with bunting and someone had added a few Union Jack flags left over from the Queen’s birthday celebrations.
By mid-morning a small crowd had gathered around a temporary stage ready for the grand opening. Eventually, the vicar jogged up the steps onto the wooden platform in chinos and a bright shirt that almost concealed his dog collar.
Philip White hadn’t been in town very long and some of the traditionalists – including Eleanor’s father-in-law – had yet to grow used to his modern ways. He had already caused consternation amongst the Sunday morning regulars by introducing a screen onto which he projected uplifting images of smiling children gathered around wells in a scorched landscape.
When there were hymns to be sung, these were alarmingly modern and unfamiliar. The parishioners found it no comfort that the words bobbed jauntily along the bottom of the screen, which Philip had placed directly in front of the altar. The change led to some rather un-Christian comments from sections of the congregation, including Malcolm who couldn’t help complaining about the vicar to his son who stood beside him on the green.
“I know it’s an unfashionable view, Daniel, but the whole point of religion is to make you suffer. At least, that’s how it was in my day. And here’s this young chap trying to make it – well – entertaining.” He shook his head crossly. “It’s not right, you know.” Malcolm’s own parents had been Scottish Presbyterians and “fun” had never played any part in their worship.
Daniel laughed. “It sounds as though Philip is making you suffer plenty, Dad.”
“I suppose so. And I don’t mean to be unkind – he’s a good man and I know he’s trying his best to involve more youngsters, and lots of people do enjoy the ‘happy-clappy’ approach. It’s not my cup of tea, that’s all.”
Right on cue, Philip clapped his hands together and addressed the crowd.
“Welcome, everyone, to the Combemouth Summer Festival! Here to pronounce us officially open is our very own rock god…” He crossed himself theatrically then put his hands together in a gesture of prayer. “Begging your pardon, oh Lord,” he said, raising a few embarrassed titters from the crowd. “Here is rock star and showman extraordinaire, the legend that is our very own Mr Bill ‘Fingers’ Widget, a man whose music has brought joy to generations of fans across the globe.”
The assembled crowd cheered and clapped as Bill came forward, smiling and waving. In the background, the sound system was playing a CD of Tryll Spigot’s Greatest Hits and the youngsters near the front of the stage began to bounce around, strumming air guitars and headbanging to the music.
Since coming out of retirement (with some local encouragement), Bill was once again flavour of the month and was often to be found on TV quiz shows. Philip had done well to book Bill to open the festival – free of charge – as his manager liked to keep him busy.
Bill made a short speech saying how happy he was to be in Combemouth then sang a verse from one of his hits, which the crowd joined in with enthusiastically. Once his official duties were over, he rejoined Brenda then went across the grass to seek out Daniel and Eleanor.
“Hello duck, how are the arrangements going for my launch?”
“Not too bad at all,” said Eleanor. “I think Georgie has everything under control.”
“Hello Brenda,” said Connie, coming up to join them with Joyce in tow. “I see you’ve been keeping busy, Bill. Harold and I went to see your show with our salsa group and we thought you were marvellous.”
“Thank you, Connie. It’s very decent of you to say so.” Joyce stood there slightly starstruck, waiting to be introduced. “And who’s this here?” asked Bill. “Your twin sister?”
“Certainly not! This is my old friend, Joyce.”
“I’ve come all the way from Spain to see you,” said Joyce, simpering. She had arrived in town a couple of days before and was resplendent in shocking pink.
“Spain, eh? As it happens, me and the wife have a little place on the Costa del Sol, just up the coast from Torremolinos.”
“What a coincidence.” Joyce put a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “So do I.”
Brenda’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met before? I’ve a feeling I’ve seen you somewhere.”
“At the yacht club, perhaps? My husband and I always enjoy an evening by the marina.”
The mention of a husband seemed to reassure Brenda that Joyce wasn’t likely to be a threat and she relaxed a bit.
“Ay, the wife likes it there though I think it’s overpriced. Anyway, we’d best get on. Adiós.”
“Adiós Bill, Brenda.” Joyce smiled, flushed with success. “What a nice man. And isn’t Mrs Widget stylish?”
“Orange is a bold choice at her age and all that crumpled linen is not to my taste, but I’m sure it hides a multitude of sins.” Connie looked around. “Where’s your father, Daniel? I’d like him to meet Joyce.”
“I last saw him in the cake tent with Maureen, admiring the apple pies.”
“Come along, Joyce. There’s no time to waste.”
Eleanor smiled as she watched Connie drag her friend across the green. “You’d better keep an eye on your dad, Dan. Mum’s keen to distract Joyce from Harold, so Malcolm could end up as the tethered goat.”
Daniel grinned. “Dad’s old enough to make his own mistakes. And it would be nice for him to have a companion.”
“I’m not sure Joyce would be much of a companion – she lives in Spain for half the year and disappears off to a bungalow in mid-Wales for the rest of it.”
“Dad likes a woman who has been about a bit…”
“From what Mother says, that describes Joyce to a T.”
Daniel laughed. “What I mean is a woman who has travelled – lived abroad, that kind of thing. Dad spent many years in the Middle East and North Africa before he settled down with my mother, don’t forget.”
“I had forgotten that. So you might be right. And we could do with some romance in our lives.”
“Aren’t I romantic enough for you?” asked Daniel, leaning over to kiss her.
“You can never have too much romance, I’d say,” she said, returning his kiss. “Shall we go and see what’s happening over there?” Eleanor pointed towards a tent strewn in green, purple and gold shawls with a huge rainbow banner by the door. Outside sat a woman with dyed red hair and so many bangles on each plump arm it was a wonder she could lift them. Eleanor smiled as she recognised one of the bookshop’s bestselling local authors, Lavinia Threlfall.
“Hello Lavinia. I see the vicar has roped you in, too.”
“I like to help where I can.”
“What are you up to here?” Eleanor popped her head through the flap and breathed in the scent of joss sticks. “Let me guess – either you have a crystal ball in there or you’re reading palms.”
Lavinia didn’t laugh. Instead she pursed her lips and pointed to a small sign pinned to the side of her tent which read “Authentic Tarot Card Readings £5”. “As you can see, I’m offering to read the cards – I don’t do palmistry and my crystal ball never leaves my bedroom. It’s far too precious to travel.”
Eleanor’s smile transformed itself into a rictus grin as she took Daniel’s hand and backed away, nodding. “Marvellous. What fun.”
Lavinia’s eyebrows shot up at the word “fun”. “Tarot is a serious method of divination that has been used for centuries, as you should know.”
“Of course. Well, it was nice to see you. Bye.” She turned and whispered to her husband. “I think I put my foot in it there. Let’s see what else we can find.”
“This is always entertaining,” said Daniel, pointing towards three ladies separated by screens, each with a bowl of fruit. “It’s the human fruit machine.”
He raised his hand to wave at Joe and Georgie. Georgie had arrived from London the day before to spend some time with her boyfriend before Bill’s launch. They had met when Georgie handled Lavinia Threlfall’s book launch at The Reading Room some years before. Georgie had since become Joe’s sort-of girlfriend but, as she lived in London and Joe was in the South West, it wasn’t always easy. However, Georgie had recently begun working freelance, so she and Joe hoped to see each other more than once a month. With them were Crumpet and Bella who was wearing a rosette, having come first in the Waggiest Tail category at the dog show.
“I have no idea what’s going on here,” said Georgie, looking bemused.
Eleanor laughed. “It’s a game of chance like roulette, but with slightly worse odds. Joe, show Georgie how it works.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes – it’s for charity. Don’t be such a skinflint.”
Sighing, Joe sloped over and gave the man in charge of the game 50p then pulled the wooden arm that activated the “fruit machine”. As he did so, each of the ladies selected a piece of fruit from her bowl and held it up.
“Ah, bad luck Joe,” said Daniel.
From left to right, the three ladies had chosen a banana, an apple and an orange.
Joe sulked. “I have never won at this game – I’m sure it’s rigged.”
“It’s not rigged,” said Eleanor, “the ladies can’t see each other. Don’t be such a bad loser.”
“I think this is brilliant,” said Georgie. “I must have a go.” She went across and handed over her money. “Okay now, ladies, I’d like you to concentrate, please.” She rubbed her palms together and closed her eyes. The wooden arm went down and the ladies made their choices: left to right, orange, orange, orange.
“You’ve won!” said Eleanor.
“How exciting,” said Georgie, laughing. “But what have I won?”
The chap at the desk pointed at the motley selection of items on display. “Take your pick, my dear. I’m afraid the best prizes have already been taken, but I hope you’ll be able to find something.”
“Tough call,” said Joe, his hand on Georgie’s shoulder as they considered the display. “I think it has to be the bedsocks or the bottle of Blue Nun.”
“Blue Nun? Is that wine?”
“Allegedly. But if you don’t want it, I’m sure my gran will be happy to take it off your hands.”
* * *
Connie and Harold had gone to join their friends from the dance group. This was led by Alfonso, a skinny, moustachioed gent in his seventies who had arrived in Combemouth after a career on cruise ships and in various holiday camps. The local men had been doubtful when their wives developed a sudden interest in Latin moves, but their anxieties were calmed when Alfonso took up with Linda from the greengrocer’s.
Alfonso’s troop had one of the open-sided tents on the green, and were showing off their paso dobles to the locals.
Joyce was a nifty mover and more than happy to join in. Daniel had to laugh at the look of pure horror on Malcolm’s face as he was pulled onto the dance floor and twirled around.