The Peacock Summer by Hannah Richell

Author:Hannah Richell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-05-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

The white tents billow on the village green like sailing ships straining to be free of their moorings. Maggie feels surprisingly good in the yellow dress Lillian has loaned her, but she is glad she has tempered the look with her Converse sneakers and thought to fix the straw hat firmly to her hair with a few extra pins. The warm wind tugs at it playfully like a young boy attempting to pull it from her head and toss it away. The air carries with it the sweet scent of spun sugar and trampled grass as well as the rising squeals of children being entertained by an old-fashioned puppet show. ‘That’s the way to do it!’ screams a hook-nosed puppet. Lillian tuts. ‘Dreadful show,’ she mutters under her breath as they pass by. ‘Can’t believe they wheel it out, year after year.’

Maggie pushes her grandmother in the rickety wheelchair around the fete stalls, where they peruse the tables of plants and cushions, candles and cakes. They’ve already taken a turn around the exhibition tent, admiring the displays of local produce, the prize-winning entries of flowers, fruits and vegetables, both pleased to see that Jane has taken the red ribbon for her green tomato chutney. They stop briefly at the raffle where Maggie wins a pink plastic heart-shaped picture frame, then they watch as a heavily tattooed man takes another turn at the ring toss. As she turns, she spots Will standing a short distance away, chatting to an older couple beside the hoopla stall. Away from Cloudesley, he looks different, somehow. Less familiar – taller and tanned – and very handsome. He says something to the couple that makes them laugh, and as he glances round he spots her watching him across the crowds. Maggie waves and Will holds her gaze for a moment, then nods and turns back to his companions. Maggie blushes, unsure why she should suddenly feel so hot and unsettled. It is a very warm day. She should get Lillian into the shade.

Nearby, the vicar is shouting over the PA system, trying to drum up entries for the egg and spoon race, his voice having to compete with the raucous dance music blaring from a nearby fairground ride. Beside him, an inflatable bouncy castle bends and lurches under the pressure of the children leaping on it.

Maggie is looking around for the tea tent when the vicar’s voice bellows out over the PA again. ‘Roll up, roll up. Over at the stocks it’s just one pound for three sponges. Now’s your chance to hit Gregory where it hurts.’

She sees Gregory Wells, the florid-faced publican at the Old Swan being locked into the stocks for the sponge-throwing competition. He is hamming it up for the growing audience in fantastic, pantomime fashion.

‘I’m sure there are many of you out there who’d like to hurl things at this man and I know I don’t need to remind you that it’s all for a good cause. All proceeds go to helping us fix the church roof.

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