The Big Little Festival

CHAPTER TWO

Buggery bollocks. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Christian stared at the empty doorway where Jody had stood mere seconds ago. What had just happened? What kind of committee head just quit? And why the hell was she so hung up on this Welly-wanging business?

Still, he stood behind his belief that it wouldn’t draw people in, and he refused to do anything that would jeopardise the success of The Big Little Festival, or, more importantly, jeopardise what would be left of his career once the pop-star debacle came home to roost square on his head.

Fine. Jody was out. Next step? Go find Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter and drag them back to the hall to finally nail down some plans. And his say would be final. There would be no democracy under his watch.

He strode across the hall, stepped out into the sunshine and, squinting from its brightness, took in the lay of the land. Total chocolate-box. The kind of town people from overseas expected to see when they came to Devon. All whitewashed stone walls with thatched or tiled roofs. Flower boxes brimming with flowers, and a few weeds. That’d need to be sorted. He mentally began to put together a list of what would need to be done to the village to turn it from sweet and a little sad to something sensational.

Bunting. Lots of it. Criss-crossing the main street. A big sign at either end with The Big Little Festival painted in jaunty colours. They’d need to have portable toilets brought in. They could possibly go at the back of the park. Perhaps with some kind of wall set up to give some privacy and hide their unsightliness.

The street wasn’t wide, so he’d have to be economical with the attractions. Which would be what? He stroked his chin, soft spikes reminding him he needed to shave. He was back in the game. He had a job. Now was not the time to look like a down and outer.

A cackle of laughter caught his attention. Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter. It must be. Another cackle sent him speeding off in its direction towards a building with ‘Mel’s Café’ emblazoned on the window.

He stepped through the door and startled at the jolly ting-a-ling of the doorbell. Who had actual bells in their store any more? Where were the electronic chimes? He took in the yesteryear British vibe, all mirrored wall art and china tea trios on display. Had he actually gone back in time? Had Rabbits Leap decided 1953 was a great year to stop moving forward?

His suspicions deepened when he saw the proprietress. A petite woman with blonde hair, wearing a pink-and-red-rose-covered vintage frock, who was smiling at him in that polite manner that suggested she was wary of the stranger in her café, but would never be rude to a customer.

‘Hello? Can I help you?’ she asked. ‘Would you like to take a seat? Or would you like a moment to take a look at the cabinets?’

‘Um, actually, I was just looking…’

‘Marjorie.’ Mrs Harper’s squawk filled the room. ‘Look who’s tracked us down?! And he’s not looking happy… I guess Jody has filled him in on how things are going with the festival.’

‘Christian, stop staring at everything like a gormless wonder and sit with us.’ Mrs Hunter pushed out a chair and waved at him to join them.

‘Can I get you a coffee? Tea? I’m Mel by the way.’ The proprietress’s smile widened. ‘Welcome to Rabbits Leap. I hear you’re here to help with the festival.’

Wow, word got around quickly in this place. ‘I’m here to do what I can.’ Christian attempted to return her smile, but the painful gut-twist had returned. Like a snake intent on wrapping itself into a knot. Many knots. ‘An espresso would be great, thanks. Oh, and a scone. Extra cream, please.’

Mel leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. ‘They’ve got you stress-eating already? A word of advice. Just hold your ground. Don’t let them boss you about’. She straightened up and sent him on his way with a flick of her hand.

Boss him around? Stress-eating? What did she think he was? A pushover? It would be him doing the bossing. No two ways about that. Christian settled into the chair Mrs Harper had made available for him and gave the women a curt nod. ‘Ladies, let’s get down to business. The festival is three weeks away. It appears nothing has been organised and time is of the essence. But first things first. Jody has resigned as head of the committee. I shall take her place and this whole democracy thing you’ve got going on is out the window. There’s no time for democracy. Although I’d appreciate your connections within the wider community when it comes to booking entertainment and activities.’ Christian nodded in satisfaction and gave the women a tight smile. Job done. They knew the score. They’d be onboard. There’d be no bossing or bulldozing.

A cackle filled the air. High-pitched and hysterical. Followed by the low rumble of a chuckle. They were laughing? At him? He looked over his shoulder to see Mel giving him a pitiful glance. What was going on?

Mrs Hunter was gripping the table and gasping for air. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she panted, as she gasped for air, ‘that you said to Jody what you just said to us?’

Mrs Harper was clutching her sides. ‘You’re hilarious. Who knew the big-city boy would be so very funny? ‘There’s no time for democracy’! Oh my word. Bless your cotton socks, Christian.’

‘Look, dear.’ Mrs Hunter laid her hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze. ‘I don’t know how you do things up in London. I’m not even sure what you’ve done before. Jody didn’t say. In fact, hiring you is the only thing she’s done without chatting to us about it first, so it’s not like we expected you to be here, and we’re not entirely sure why we need you in the first place… But you have to understand that trying to tell us how to do things in that stern manner of yours is never going to work. It clearly didn’t work with Jody and it doesn’t sit well with us.’

Was that a threat he detected in that sweet and low voice? And why had Jody not consulted them? Surely she’d have had to in order to secure the budget for his services? Not that the price had been that high. But he’d needed to get out of town, it was a paying job, and if he made a success of the festival then his great mistake would hopefully be quickly forgotten. His reputation as the best event manager in London would remain intact.

Christian saw something out the corner of his eye. A young boy with a stick in his hand and a hoop beside him, rolling it down the street. Had he travelled back in time? Was he going mad? Had the stress of the pop-star disaster actually sent him barmy? Was he currently locked up in a padded cell having a delusion?

Two soft thunks and the aroma of rich coffee brought him to his senses.

‘Here’s your coffee, and the scone, with extra cream. Eat up. Drink up. You’ve the look of a man whose blood sugar is dropping at a rapid rate.’ Mel scooted the sugar bowl his way. ‘Pop two of these in, it’ll do you good.’

Christian nodded his thanks and spooned the sugar into the coffee, hoping the women across from him, still snickering away, wouldn’t notice the trembling of the spoon, or the small granules of sugar that fell onto the table.

‘So, how is this going to work then?’ he asked. ‘Will I make suggestions and you poo-poo them? Will you make suggestions and expect me to action them? Am I to be your lackey?’

‘Ooooh, I’ve always wanted a lackey.’ Mrs Harper clapped her hands in delight. ‘Yes, I’m very happy with that idea of yours. Excellent idea. You do as we say. I could live with that.’

‘Now, now, Shirley.’ Mrs Hunter shook her head in mock despair. ‘Give the poor lad a break. He’s here to help us and he must have connections. Why don’t we let him find the musical acts and we can go about telling the Rotary girls what we need for the baking stall. We’ve got the Welly-wanging sorted; Jody had that well in hand. So that should be it. We’re done.’

Christian gripped the coffee cup with both hands, brought it to his lips and sipped, holding the rich and surprisingly delicious liquid in his mouth. Who knew a tiny town could do a better cup of coffee than any he’d had in the city? He swallowed and tried to process what he’d just been told. Did they think a baking stand, some Wellington throwing and a bit of music was all a festival needed? It needed more. Much more. But it wasn’t going to work if he didn’t have a team he could trust working with him. Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter were loose cannons. They’d likely jeopardise plans rather than bring them to fruition. But Jody? There was something about her he felt he could trust. She was determined, yet centred. Solid. She’d make the perfect second-in-command. But she’d quit. Shit.

He took another sip of the brain-focusing liquid. No, he wasn’t letting these two women smash the career he’d spent his life building into smithereens. He’d left London with his tail between his legs; there was no way he was going back to face the music of his great mistake without a success under his belt. He was going to make this work.

‘Ladies.’ The word came out with a squeak. Hardly the show of strength he’d hoped for. Still, it had caught their attention. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Ladies, I appreciate how hard you’ve worked on this festival. I can see how passionate about it you are. But to be honest, it’s not enough. A festival needs to be fun, it needs excitement, amusement, it needs to be something people talk about all year round as they wait for it to come around again. What you’ve planned is a start. But it’s not an end. No. We’re going to have to work together to make this bigger. To make it better than any other festival in the area. A festival people from other counties come to visit. We’re going to make this festival the biggest little festival in England. Are you with me?’

***

‘I’m an idiot. More than an idiot. I’m insane. I should be committed.’ Jody slapped her hand to her forehead, rubbed it wearily and eyed her brother, who was restocking The Bullion’s wine fridge. ‘What was I thinking using my…’ Jody stopped herself. Tony didn’t need to know she’d used her own money to pay for the event manager. If he knew, he’d offer to help her, and she wasn’t one to accept offers of help. She’d done everything on her own since the boys came along and being a little out of pocket now wasn’t going to change that. ‘I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to hire a person who would come in and just destroy everything we’d put together. Well, what little we’d kind of put together…’ She eyed the bottles of wine lined up in The Bullion’s fridge. Was it too early for a drink? It was after midday, and surely it was five o’clock somewhere in the world. ‘Tony, pour your big sister half a glass. I need to take the edge off. And where is bloody Serena? She said she’d meet me here five minutes ago.’

Tony snickered. ‘Edge off? You’d need a whole bottle of wine to do that, not just a half glass. I’ve never seen you so pissed off. And what’s five minutes? She probably got stuck in a sheep jam or something. Chill out, Jodes.’

Jody stuck her tongue out at her brother. Then laughed when he stuck his own tongue out and crossed his eyes.

‘Seriously? How old are you two? Five?’ Serena set her tangerine-coloured tote on the bar with a whump and slid onto the stool next to Jody. ‘And why haven’t you ordered wine yet? Honestly, what kind of best friend are you? How long have we known each other? You should know by now that if you’re demanding I come to a pub then you’d better have something alcoholic ready for me when I get here. And what’s the big drama? And who’s Mr Fancy Pants? And why do we need to run him out of town, preferably with pitchforks that have sat in hot coals for a couple of hours?’

Jody grinned at her friend. Serena had a way of bringing lightness to even the darkest situations. ‘Tony. Did you hear the woman? Wine. Now.’ She slapped her hand on the bar for emphasis. ‘And bugger the half a glass, make it a whole. Also, could you take some chips up to the boys and tell them they’re not to be playing the violent computer games. And if they do they’ll lose today’s TV privileges. And make sure you impress upon them that if they do play the violent games, I’ll know. And be sure to raise your eyebrows on the “I know” bit.’

‘And they believe you’ll know?’ Serena grinned.

‘They haven’t figured out that when I told them I had secret cameras installed upstairs and all around Rabbits Leap to keep an eye on them that I was telling them a white lie.’

‘Or a blatant lie.’ Tony poured the wine into glasses and slid them across the bar. ‘I’ll go sort out the chips for the boys. Don’t steal anything, I have cameras everywhere too, you know.’ He winked, and then headed out to the kitchen.

Jody shrugged and lifted the glass to her lips. ‘A mum’s got to do what a mum’s got to do,’ she murmured, as much to herself as to Serena. ‘Anyway, you won’t believe the afternoon I’ve had. Actually, no, first of all, how are you?’

Serena shook her head. ‘I’m fine. Forced into farm slavery. Sick of the smell of cowpats, tired of getting up at the crack of dawn to touch a bunch of udders.’ She shuddered. ‘But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about you. So, who is this bloke who’s got your knickers in a twist? Don’t tell me you’ve finally broken that dumb rule of yours and fallen in love? Don’t do it, Jody. Love is a bad thing. Terrible thing. Never ends well. Secure that chastity belt of yours. And double-lock it.’

Jody snorted. ‘Thank God I’m not mid glug right now, because you’d be wearing the wine. Nope, he’s of no romantic interest to me. No man is. You know that. Not until the boys have left home and no longer need me. What he is, though, is the event manager I hired to help get the festival on track.’ She laughed, short and harsh. Regretful. ‘On track? He’s blown up what few ideas we had. There won’t be Welly-wanging.’

‘No Welly-wanging? So? What’s the big deal about that? It’s not like we’re known for it. Haven’t won any competitions or anything. Heck, didn’t Rabbits Leap quit entering them when we came last at our first attempt?’

‘Well… I know… but…’ Jody twisted her wine glass round and round. ‘I don’t know. People seem to enjoy it. Families look like they’re having a good time…’ She shrugged and traced patterns in the condensation on the wine glass. ‘I guess it was a dumb idea. But it was the only idea I was able to get everyone to agree on. I guess it wasn’t so much about him saying no to it as the way he said it. He just dismissed it. Wasn’t even polite about it. He came in and took over, and well… that’s just not the Rabbits Leap way.’

‘So, what are you going to do? Get rid of him for hating the one big idea you managed to get past my mother and Mrs Harper? You did send him packing, didn’t you?’ Serena gave her a speculative look. ‘You didn’t. You bailed. You’ve left him to ruin the town festival. Jody!’ she wailed. ‘You can’t. We need you. You know how to organise stuff. You’ve done those bingo nights. Those book sales. The schoolkids were able to go on a trip to the Natural History Museum in London because of your fundraising efforts. But most importantly, we need a pool! Sure, it only gets used a couple of months a year. But, oh, what glorious months they are. And if we raise enough we could get some fancy heat-making thing to make the pool swimmable a little longer. I can’t believe you let Mr-Fancy-whatever-you-called-him-Pants steamroll you. God, if I meet that man, I’ll…’

A cough, of an undeniably awkward nature, stopped Serena in her verbal tracks.

Out of the corner of her eye Jody could see Christian loitering a few feet away. His hands in his shorts pockets. His gaze fixated on the timber beams running across The Bullion’s ceiling. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

Serena’s eyes widened and her own cheeks flamed. ‘He’s behind me, isn’t he?’ she mouthed.

Jody nodded.

‘Shit,’ she mouthed again and attempted to nonchalantly sip her wine, only to slosh it all over the bar.

‘Hey, Christian.’ Jody said, but the casual tone came out a croak. ‘Are you after a cold drink? Or an alcoholic one? Did Mrs Harper and Mrs Hunter send you round the bend already?’

Christian shifted from foot to foot. Was it her imagination or had his cheeks rouged up? ‘Er, no. Not so much. They are… trying… though.’

Serena snorted. ‘He just called my mother “trying”. Should I throw my wine over him or be happy someone else agrees with me?’

The hint of colour on Christian’s cheeks morphed into a full flush. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your mother. I didn’t know. And if it’s any consolation, she’s much better than the other one.’

Serena laughed. ‘Mrs Harper’s a right handful. I don’t know how the boys haven’t smothered her in her sleep already.’

Jody grinned. ‘You forget that Bo’s a big-time rugby star, so he’s never home. Ridge spends his days and nights with his head under the bonnet of various cars. And Chase… well, he’s the ultimate mama’s boy, so he’d be buggered and bereft if anything happened to her.’

‘True. Pity she’s their mother. Those boys are damn hot. But who’d go there if you had to deal with that.’

Christian stepped forward. ‘And that’s why I’m here. Jody, I need you to come back. I need…’ He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if something were stuck in his throat and he had to force it out. ‘I need your help to deal with, as your friend so eloquently put it, that.’

Jody swung round on the stool to face Christian, propped her elbows on the bar, leaned back and laughed. Long and hard. The sound echoed around the bar and caused Christian to take the step he’d taken forward back again. Then another.

Jody sucked in a couple of calming breaths, but couldn’t erase the grin that kept returning every time she tried to tame it. ‘What happened to Mr-I’m-in-Charge? Mr I’m-the-Boss? Have you finally realised you’re not in London any more? That we don’t do things down here like you do up there?’

Christian’s chest – broad, she noted, and potentially even muscular – rose and fell. Once, twice, three times. He was either trying to keep himself from raging at her for laughing in his face, or breathing to stop himself passing out. Jody noted the grayish-beige tone to his skin and softened. ‘Here.’ She indicated the stool beside Serena. ‘Take a seat. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Water.’ The corners of his lips lifted in a smile, but his eyes remained unsure. Guarded.

Jody grabbed a pint glass. ‘You look like you need a beer. I’m getting you a beer.’ She expertly filled the glass and passed it to Christian. Their fingertips grazed against each other as the glass changed hands, sending something that very much resembled a tingle up Jody’s arm. Warming the areas it zipped through. Surely not? Her body wasn’t attracted to him, was it? She brushed the idea aside. No, it was probably just static electricity. She caught Christian’s eye and saw her baffled feelings reflected back at her. So, not static electricity then. Strange. Still, Jody mused as she returned to her seat, her body could feel all the tickly thrills it wanted; it didn’t mean she was going to do anything about it. Not now, not ever. No amount of lusty body-feels could make up for the pain that followed the inevitable rejection.

‘This beer’s good. Really good.’ Christian ran his tongue over his lips, erasing the foam that had settled there.

Her body started again. The energy moving a little lower, hovering low in her stomach, warming what she liked to joke about as the ‘cold pit’. Turncoat, she scolded. ‘It’s my brother’s. He brews it. He’s making a name for himself.’