AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Yeah, sure, no worries.’
‘Thank you,’ Estelle said, then gestured at the long drive in front of them, with large areas of lawn either side. ‘With all vehicles in the park, this is where the outside caterers will go for everyone attending events inside the manor and gardens. There’ll be another food court in the park near the main stage.’
‘Have you booked anyone yet?’ James asked.
‘Provisionally, yes. I’ve spoken to Leia and Ben, who run The Colour Palate restaurant in the village. They’re going to help me coordinate local suppliers.’
‘Get a deposit from them now.’
She frowned. ‘They’re not paying to be here.’
‘What?’
‘We’re not charging any of the concessions to sell food at the festival.’
Anxiety nipped at James’s heels. ‘Why not?’
‘Because they always overcharge for what they sell.’
‘Not our problem.’
Estelle’s hands were now planted on her hips as she faced him down.
‘Yes, it is. We want the festival to be affordable, and that’s not going to happen when you’re being charged fifteen quid for a portion of soggy chips.’
I don’t give a rat’s arse. Without extra money coming in, there wasn’t even going to be a festival.
‘So, by not charging, you expect them out of the goodness of their little hearts to put their prices down?’
‘It’ll be a requirement. Leia and Ben will be working with me and all suppliers to set prices and portion sizes that are fair for everyone.’
‘Except for us! Who’s paying for the electricity to run their stalls?’
She hesitated. ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.’
‘Yes, one that involves them handing us cold, hard cash for the privilege of being here.’ He shook his head. I’m sorry, Estelle—’
‘You’re not sorry at all.’
He paused. ‘You’re right. I don’t give a shit if someone pays fifteen quid or fifty for a portion of chips. It’s all about the bottom line.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘Don’t you want to create something good here?’
‘No.’ He crossed his arms, as if it would hold back the fear and fury. ‘I don’t care if punters show up to see UberGraft or take part in some stupid Morris dancing workshop. The only thing that matters is making a profit.’
Silence.
Estelle’s face hardened. ‘And this month’s award for “coldest heart in hell” goes yet again to Mr James Hunter-Savage. Once more he’s knocked Scrooge, Stalin, and John D. Rockefeller off the podium.’ She pointed her finger at him as if it were a weapon. ‘I do care about making a profit, but unlike you, I want to create something so good that next year’s festival makes more money because people actually want to come back.’
James didn’t give a toss about next year. By the end of the summer, he wanted to be back in London with everything in Somerset firmly behind him. Especially thoughts about Estelle Foxbrooke.
‘And another thing, you opinionated arsehole,’ she continued. ‘Morris dancing is not stupid. It’s an ancient cultural practice that goes back over seven hundred years. And it’s not costing the festival anything to put on because my father is running the workshop for free.’
Fuck.
‘Estelle—’
‘Max, if you’d like to follow me, we can go around the back of the manor and I can show you where the open-air theatre will be, as well as the tents for the silent disco, acoustic sets and spoken word performers.’
