Too tired to cook, Emily headed over to the Inn on the Green to look for something for dinner, where she found Skip hastily blowing the cobwebs out of the long-unused kitchens in preparation for the upcoming carnival. Veronica was also there, along with another local lady called Stephanie Goddard, who Veronica had said owned the small art supplies shop. Together they had been trying—unsuccessfully—to coax an old electric cooker back to life.
‘It used to work,’ Skip said. ‘Always took a while to warm up, though.’
‘You got it plugged in?’ Veronica asked.
‘I think so,’ Skip said, kneeling on the floor to peer into the gloom between the cooker’s feet and the floor.
‘I imagine the mouse chewed through the wire,’ Stephanie said with a smirk, provoking a sharp glare from Veronica.
‘Mice?’
‘It’s a joke.’
‘Hope so. Saw one once. Still get nightmares.’
‘Been so long since I cooked anything in here there’s nothing for them to eat,’ Skip said. ‘I’ll see if I can get an engineer out in the morning to have a look. Dinner’s a no-go then.’
‘Let’s go round Peter’s for beans on toast,’ Veronica said, the insistence in her voice making it impossible to refuse.
The others looked at each other then gave a collective shrug. ‘Why not?’ Skip said. ‘I’ll put a bit of card in the window to say we’re closed up for a couple of hours.’
With Veronica taking the lead, they headed next door. Peter answered her sharp knock, his face immediately brightening at the sight of Veronica, multi-coloured hair flecked with snow, standing on his doorstep.
‘Beans offer still open?’ she asked. ‘Skip’s cooker flaked on the fish n’ chips.’
‘Good timing,’ Peter said. ‘We just found a rack of plastic chairs out in the garage.’
Peter led them inside. In a large dining room at the back of the house, they found a crowd already assembled. In addition to a handful of people whose names Emily couldn’t recall, the three council workers were there, as was Mrs. Taylor, and even Reverend Billingham.
‘Skip, is that you?’ Kelly called from an adjoining kitchen. ‘Do you have a spare toaster over there? I’m good for bread, but cooking it is proving a little difficult.’
Skip glanced at Veronica, who shrugged.
‘There was one in the cupboard by the door,’ Stephanie said. ‘It’ll probably work if you blow the rust off.’
‘I’ll be right back,’ Skip said.
‘And bring a few Cokes,’ Kelly called.
‘Sure.’
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With Emily helping Kelly to prepare a huge vat of baked beans, the group enjoyed a jovial evening eating and drinking in Kelly’s back room. They opened a couple of windows to let a breeze keep the air clean as the beans started to do their work, but everyone was in good spirits ahead of the opening of the carnival in two days’ time. Emily got an update from those people working at the site that the village hall was nearly ready. All decorations were in place, and the local stalls were all set up. Tomorrow would see the arrival of a couple of special vendors, plus the sound and disco equipment. With snow still steadily falling, Alan had promised to be up clearing the roads early to make sure everyone could arrive on time, while Garry Timpson was on standby with his Land Rover to pick up anyone who got stuck.
Later on, after everyone had headed back over to the pub for a nightcap, Emily managed to get a word with Mrs. Taylor.
‘Has Nathan Trower called you?’ she asked.
Mrs. Taylor nodded. ‘Yes, he called me this afternoon,’ she said. ‘We had a little chat over the phone, but he’s going to come over tomorrow morning for a chat face to face. I’m afraid I can’t really talk about what he said—patient confidentiality and all that—but let’s just say that he’s hoping to change his ways.’
‘So you think he’ll let the carnival go off without any problems?’
Mrs. Taylor patted Emily on the shoulder. ‘After all your hard work, I’d hate to see something bad happen, but I’m confident it won’t. I’m not sure whether he’d be there doing Christmas karaoke, but I think he understands that what he’s been doing was wrong. He has some issues, that boy, but I think there’s light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t think you quite realise what an impact you’ve had on everyone round here.’
Emily shrugged. ‘Just trying to answer a letter,’ she said.
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It was nearly midnight when she returned to the holiday let. Exhausted, all she wanted was to hit her bed, but she made herself go through every room, checking for any unwanted Easter eggs, half expecting to find a box of cockroaches or snakes under her bed. She found nothing untoward, however. Perhaps Mrs. Taylor was right and Nathan really had seen the error of his ways.
Just as she was climbing into bed, her phone buzzed with a message from Karen.
Gonna snow heavily tomorrow. Take it easy in the snow. You need a lift, give me a shout and I’ll send out the butler with the minibus. It’s built like a tank.
Emily had a sudden flash of inspiration. Do you think I could borrow it for a couple of days?
The butler or the tank? His name’s Archibald and he’s seventy, but if you can look past the barcode he makes with his last remaining hair then I guess he’s nice-looking enough.
The tank.
I thought so.
You’re a life saver. Love you x.
You too x.
Emily grinned as she lay back on her pillows. She now had a way to get people in to the carnival and out again. Perfect. Things were looking up.
As her eyes started to close, despite a million other things she probably should be doing, perhaps the most important question of all rushed to the front of her mind.
She hadn’t even thought about it until now, but it really was of utmost importance.
Her costume for the upcoming carnival.
What on earth was she going to wear?