Page 44 of A Change of Location
“Most hazardous.”
When watching the three-legged race, she and Martin’s mother cheered the loudest as he and Poppy hurtled along the final stretch, leading the field. They would have claimed their elusive victory if they’d remained upright instead of stumbling and falling to the ground in a heap.
“I hope nothing more than their pride got bruised,” Isobel said.
“There’s always next year,” Hannah responded. “That’s what Grampa says if the Boston Red Sox have a bad season, or get eliminated from the baseball World Series.”
According to Martin, only the Christmas Eve candlelight service and Easter Day mass drew more worshipers than Sunday in Flower Fete weekend. Every pew in St. Anne’s Church was occupied. The grand prize winner in the flower arranging competition adorned the altar, and the others were placed in window niches. Some discriminating—or disapproving—person had removed Martin’s beer bottles filled with nettles.
After the recessional hymn, he took up a position near the lych-gate, shaded by ancient yew trees, and hawked garden tour maps. He enlisted Hannah as money-taker, and her plastic envelope soon bulged with pound coins and fivers.
“What else will you be doing today?” she asked. “Another stint as target for wet sponges?”
He shook his head. “My duty there is done. Each of our parish councilors has a turn. And our Member of Parliament. I predict the afternoon takings will far exceed whatever I brought in yesterday. Where are you headed?”
“To watch the Morris dancers. After that, more shopping. Not for myself. I want gifts to take back to my friends.” Belatedly, she added, “And family.”
At midday, when the church bell rang twelve times, Hannah joined the queue at the Volunteer Fire Brigade tent, intending to purchase a sandwich. She recognized the young man beside her.
“You’re Andy,” she greeted him. “From The Peacock.”
“Hullo,” he responded. “You’re the movie lady. Jack says if our pub’s in your film, it’ll bring in more customers. I might get paid a bigger wage.”
“If you’re interested in part-time work for extra money, plenty of people will be needed for odd jobs. Or as background extras.”
“You’ll put in a good word for me?”
“I definitely will,” she assured him.
By the time cast and crew descended on this corner of Somerset, she’d be thousands of miles away. But that didn’t preclude lobbying Liz on Andy’s behalf. All that Martin and Poppy had told her about this solemn kid elicited a sense of kinship. When not in school, he labored at the Home Farm or served patrons at The Peacock, activities that prevented him from playing team sports with other boys. Hannah had carried out her daily chores at Bear Knoll, in addition to filling in at the vet practice if Dad needed extra help. Her parents expected her to excel in her studies so she could earn a college degree. Film jobs, volunteer or paid, had thrust her into an adult world at a young age.
Which was one reason she appreciated Martin’s sense of playfulness. Remembering the nettles, she wondered what his next trick might be.
Chapter 14
By late afternoon, storm clouds darkened the horizon. Martin presided at the closing ceremonies, inviting winners of the various competitions, if present, to join him on the platform. A man handed up a paper, from which he read the amount the duck race and raffle had earned for the Youth Club. On the board members’ behalf he extended thanks for the support. Accompanied by the brass band, the Women’s Institute warbled “Jerusalem.” After the vicar offered a prayer expressing gratitude to the Almighty for fair weather when it counted, Martin named the dates of the next year’s fete and declared this one closed.
Attendees hurried home or rushed to the car park. Artisans and shop staff packed up their wares. Booths were dismantled, and the deflating of the bouncy castle drew a gaggle of spectators. Hannah joined Jan and Gosia and Kateryna in the tea tent. They washed and dried cups and saucers while Ron disassembled the espresso machine.
The festival’s aftermath wasn’t the anticlimax Hannah expected.
Martin’s aunt, Julia Duncanson, arrived from Edinburgh to spend time with her sister. Short and round, she was physically Isobel’s opposite, and she led a far more active social life as wife of an army officer. Daughters of a university art history professor and a sculptress, both were artists who spent pleasant afternoons sketching in the gardens.
During breakfast one morning, Isobel announced, “The Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition is open, and there’s an interesting lecture listed on the website for the Tate Modern. Don’t you agree that we need a day or two in London? It’s been years since we took on the city together.”
Julia nodded her exquisitely coiffed and expertly colored head. “I’d enjoy that.”
Martin looked up from the piece of toast he was buttering. “I’ve memorized the Newbridge to London train schedule. Let me know what time you want to go, and I’ll make the booking. I can also have groceries delivered to the flat in advance of your arrival, if you tell me what you want.”
“He turned out rather well, this lad of yours,” Julia observed. “We did have doubts.”
He frowned. “I don’t dare ask who ‘we’ might be. You’re shattering my belief that the Scottish relatives didn’t entirely disapprove. Whereas the Latimers regard me as a disaster.”
“Darling, that can’t be true,” Isobel protested. “When Alicia rings me with family gossip, she says you’ve calmed down and become...”
“Respectable?” he supplied. “She certainly isn’t. And hasn’t even been a Latimer for—how long? Decades.”
When the ladies settled on a departure time, Julia went upstairs to get prepared. Martin excused himself so he could arrange their travel before his morning meeting in Newbridge.
