Ava put the tea on the table. ‘Oh heck, the prizes. Did Flo deliver them?’ She looked at Mary.
‘Oh, yes! They’re over there. Take a look.’
Ava went to the box Mary had pointed at and opened the lid.
‘Wow! These are great. Did she make them?’ Ava had to admit Flo was a marvel with a sewing machine.
‘Yes.’
Mary seemed to be holding back a giggle, but Ava had no idea why. Inside the box was a range of toy turtles in a variety of colours. They had stitched eyes and cute smiles. It was almost a shame to give them to the dogs.
‘Henry, would you mind doing the honours?’
‘Of course not.’ Henry stood, and Ava passed him a winner’s rosette, and a colourful toy turtle for each of the two runners-up.
Ava stood behind Mary. Those called to the centre of the arena posed for photographs. Ava tilted her head. There was something familiar about the turtles, but she wasn’t sure what it was; something about their bright colours. She was sure she’d seen them before. Realisation dawning, she rushed back to the box. There inside, she looked more closely at the patterns on the turtle’s backs. Amidst the array of bright colours were various animal prints including zebra.
Mary laughed. ‘And she’s got it.’
‘Oh my goodness, Mary. These are . . . they’re—’
‘Yep! Made from that donated bag of bras. It’s genius really. You even get two for the price of one.’ Mary leaned over, took out two turtles and held them up to her chest.
Ava snatched them back and closed the lid. ‘But we’ve just given them to Henry to hand out in the middle of an arena of local people who might have seen them in their original, you know’ — Ava motioned to her chest — ‘state.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. You actually wore one and it took long enough for the penny to drop. The lingerie shop wasn’t that popular. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have closed. Besides, I think he quite likes them.’
Ava looked towards the arena, her eyes going wide as she saw Henry squeezing one to see if it would squeak.
‘I think it’s a shame they don’t make a honking sound, don’t you?’ Mary burst out another giggle.
Ava couldn’t help but join in. ‘I suppose it could have been worse.’
‘At least they’re not sex toys.’
‘What aren’t?’
Hearing Henry’s voice as he returned to the judge’s table, Ava jumped. ‘Nothing. Just Mary’s idea of a joke when she should be calling the next category.’ Ava kicked Mary and wished the heat in her cheeks didn’t make it seem as if she’d been talking about something more explicit.
She picked up her tea from the carrier and stood as if ready to drink the molten liquid from the takeaway cup. A gesture she hoped Henry would read as her being unable to discuss the subject any further.
Henry raised his eyebrow at her, offering a cheeky but very lovely grin before taking his seat.
Watching the rescue dogs make their way to the arena made Ava’s heart swell. They came in all shapes and sizes and were as scruffy as they were gorgeous, parading around with a variety of unusual gaits. Being the category Mary had requested, she was judging and took time to speak to each of the owners individually. As their stories echoed through the microphone,Ava was touched to learn each entrant had a sad history and had found love in a new life. Ava was grateful she wasn’t judging and went to mingle with the crowd and to take a look at the few stalls on the green.
Finding a variety of homemade preserves, sweets, and “delectable dog treats” on offer she realised she could have purchased runner-up prizes from them. But as she thought about Flo’s turtles, she knew they were perfect. Ava stood chatting to those she recognised from around the village, including Mrs Dent, whose enthusiasm about having not used her umbrella seemed more about the hope of a refund, than her joy at the festival not being a washout. As she went, Ava welcomed everyone’s kind feedback about the festival. While she wouldn’t truly relax until the end, she was allowing herself to feel a sense of achievement.
Hearing a kafuffle from the arena, Ava turned. Seeing an irate parent in the centre of the arena fronting up to Mary while Henry attempted to calm the situation, Ava wondered what had happened. Trying to take in the scene and what might have caused the issue, she hurried in.
‘Stop! Whatever’s the matter?’
Everyone went to speak at once, but Ava held up her hands. ‘Stop! Please, one at a time. What’s happened?’
The parent, a portly middle-aged man who had his arm around his crying child, spoke first. ‘You cannot let a child win the young handler competition with a stuffed toy!’ he protested.
‘What?’ Ava looked around at the entrants. There, sure enough, was a young boy she recognised as one of those with an ill-fitting uniform from the school choir, holding a life-sized toy Labrador protectively to his chest. She looked at Mary, hoping there was a good explanation. Before Mary could speak, the parent was shouting again.
‘Excuse me, sir, I must be able to speak with the judges.’ Ava motioned for them to step away while Henry moved to speak to the man.
