The Art of Detection (Edward Gamble Mysteries Book 1) by Sam Spicer & J. S. Spicer

Author:Sam Spicer & J. S. Spicer [Spicer, Sam & Spicer, J. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jungle Juice Press
Published: 2018-02-15T23:00:00+00:00

IT MUST BE FETE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The summer heat built each day, drenching the land in radiant light. Doors and windows were thrust wide open to tempt in the soft summer breezes. The elderly shied away from the sun’s blazing power, resting in the shade with fans and iced drinks. Youngsters rushed around, joyful, unheeding of the heat, keen to stay outdoors and make the most of every bit of daylight. When the sun slipped below the crimson horizon the world slumbered fitfully in sultry darkness for a while before a new day dawned.

At Oakfield School the faces of my pupils turned more often to the idyllic views beyond the classroom windows than to my blackboard, and I couldn’t blame them. Everyone was enjoying the unbroken spell of good weather, and when we broke up for the long summer vacation, I felt just as jubilant as the students on that last day. Although I resisted the temptation to squeal excitedly or engage in water fights.

The dry conditions didn’t make everyone happy. My next door neighbour, dear old Isobel, spent her evenings trying to moisten her little garden, tending to it into the twilight hours. I would hear the gentle splosh of her watering can as I sat in the garden, usually with a good book in one hand and a cold beer in the other.

Edward sulked for a few weeks after the Kerry Jessop incident, dissatisfied with the outcome and angered by Beth’s insistence on secrecy. He’d wrangled with Beth for a while, indignantly lecturing her about moral duty. Despite some very eloquent speeches about doing the right thing, I suspect hurt pride had a lot to do with his anger and frustration. After presenting him with a challenge to solve, Beth had then cruelly denied him the satisfaction of revealing that his theory was right.

Beth and Edward were my closest friends, but they were both equally stubborn and unwavering in their personal beliefs, which meant if they disagreed on anything I was subjected to a fiery stalemate. I had to endure a few heated arguments, as well as some stony silences, but eventually, to my immense relief, peace was restored.

Every August the village hosted its annual fete, an event which took over the whole of the central park for one glorious Saturday. Though a modest affair by some standards it was always an eagerly anticipated event in Hadenville, by young and old alike, and this year was no exception.

Throughout the course of each year there would be several opportunities for the community to assemble, holidays and well-loved traditions, some formal and some festive, each occasion offering its own charm; a chance to impress, to dress up, or simply to celebrate. Of all of these the summer fete was on the grandest scale, and when the weather chose to behave it was the most enjoyable. On this day the villagers woke to find the world bathed in cheery sunshine and soon everyone was converging on the park, a swarm of floating summer dresses and rarely worn shorts, all seen through the tint of cheap sunglasses.

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