‘No problem. I might as well put all my hard-earned expertise of WordPress to good use! Oh and I’ve heard back from Hattie Barnsley’s mum – she’s agreed to run a face painting stall, and Mr Knowles the Year 5 teacher has agreed to run the coconut shy.’
‘You are amazing. How you’ve managed to rope in so many people to help is beyond me.’
‘I love it, it’s just like throwing a party.’
‘But your powers of persuasion are truly incredible. I mean, I used to work in events, but that was easy – I could pay people for their services. You have gathered an impressive number of people to give up their time for free.’
‘I guess I’m hard to say no to,’ Nathalie winked, before disappearing off to meet a client for a mani-pedi.
That was undoubtedly true, mused Helena as she wondered down the road to Hazel Cottage. She was so happy with the progress she had seen at the village hall, she couldn’t wait to show Roger Parkes and the rest of the trustees on Saturday. They had asked for a tour of the works so far. She scanned through the to-do list on her phone, deciding what she needed to prioritise for the rest of the afternoon. She needed to finish all the policies she was currently working on, and then finalise the menu.
Helena had decided to offer a small but perfectly formed menu of seasonal, organic and locally sourced produce. Fresh bread and pastries, homemade granola with a selection of toppings, and a range of delicious smoothies. Lunch options would all be homemade, including sandwiches, salads and soups. And then there would be cake. Each day Helena would bake a variety of cakes to be enjoyed with a cup of tea or coffee. Helena loved this part, the creative side of it all, and the satisfaction of planning the logistics of how it would all come together. She relished the challenge, finding herself enjoying being her own boss for the first time, despite the enormity of the juggling act combining all this with the full-time job she was still holding down. She couldn’t wait for her last shift at Coffee Stop, which was scheduled to be two days before the village fete, the Thursday and Friday before having been allocated for last-minute jobs. She was sure that by then it would all finally start to feel real.
34
‘RIGHT, SO I’VEgot the face paints, the smarties, hoops for the hoopla, tablecloths and balloons. Anything else I’ve forgotten?’ Nathalie asked.
‘I think that’s everything Nat. You are truly a legend.’
‘I’m going to have to make a run for it. It’s bloody pissing it down.’
‘I can’t believe this weather,’ Helena groaned. ‘It’s going to be a complete and utter disaster if it’s like this. We can hardly use the village hall as back-up, it’s still a building site.’ It was hard to believe the builders’ assurances that it would all be ready in three short weeks.
‘Don’t worry! The forecast says it’ll be alright by tomorrow.’
‘It better be alright. I’m so paranoid. I’ve been refreshing it every five minutes.’
Helena looked out of the kitchen window. Bulbous raindrops clung to the glass, quivering as they snaked their way down. It was a miserably wet day. The opposite of what they had been hoping and praying for. Helena’s visions of their cheerful summer fete were being steadily replaced by empty stalls, dour faced volunteers clad in waterproofs, and a lack of takings. She had everything crossed that the forecast was right, that the sun would come out in time for their big day.
Helena was now officially self-employed. She had worked her last shift at Coffee Stop on Wednesday, saying a tearful goodbye to Ahmed, to whom she owed an enormous debt of gratitude. Not only for the amount he had taught her, but for giving her an opportunity when she had been so desperate for a way out. Hehad been exactly the right person to come into her life at that time. Cheerful, practical and calm, he had been a wonderful boss, and he had become a good friend. She had walked out of Coffee Stop with a tear in her eye, such a different person to the woman who had walked in looking for a job all those months before. It was amazing the effect time could have. She would miss working there, and she would miss all the regulars she had befriended. But at the same time she was more than ready to get started with her own new venture, to dedicate herself completely to the final weeks of preparation before the grand opening.
She went through to the sitting room and surveyed the phenomenal amount of stuff that lay in neatly organised piles across every surface, ready to be set up stall by stall in the morning. Johnny would be collecting a van full of trestle tables first thing from the school, who had kindly agreed to loan them out for the day. Over the past weeks, Johnny, Nathalie, Helena and Margery had spent hours printing off instructions for the stall holders, gathering props and prizes, collecting donations for the raffle and tombola, and painting large signs to tell punters what was going on where. Helena had been baking non-stop to show off the culinary delights that would soon be on offer at the café. It had been quite an operation, and there was still an awful lot to do. Johnny had offered to come around later to help, and Margery was currently upstairs in her room, finishing off the multicoloured bunting she had lovingly made on her sewing machine. It was so beautiful and so cheerful, Helena was planning on hanging it up in the village hall, along with strings of fairy lights, as part of the décor.
*
‘What next?’ Johnny asked a few hours later, having finished inflating the final space hopper. There would be space hopper races as well as a welly wanging competition taking place in the meadow alongside the coconut shy and the bouncy castle, which Jennie had kindly volunteered to supervise. The roads were being closed off, with Helena having been granted permission to divert any trafficaround the back of the village, so the whole stretch of land between the village green and the meadow was up for grabs. Tractor rides would be taking place on the road surrounding the green thanks to Edmund Petty, a local farmer Nathalie had charmed into becoming involved. Nathalie’s phenomenal planning would ensure that each and every square metre of space was in use. Johnny would be part of a trio of musicians playing a mixture of folk and contemporary music to accompany the festivities. This included the church organist, who it turned out was also an amazing ukulele player, and the school’s music teacher, who played the guitar. They had been rehearsing for weeks at the Old Rectory in preparation.
‘Folding the tombola tickets,’ Nathalie instructed Johnny, ticking off space hoppers from the to-do list.
‘No problem,’ he replied, dodging Helena as she walked through carrying an enormous glass jar full of smarties.
‘Have you written down how many you got in there?’ Nathalie asked.
‘Yes I stuck it on the bottom, don’t worry,’ Helena grinned.
It was eleven o’clock. They had all been at it for hours. They had sent Margery up to bed after she’d almost fallen asleep at the table. ‘Is this the last job?’ Helena asked, joining Johnny as he tore off strips of numbers before folding them and dropping them into the tombola.
‘Yes. Apart from the last-minute things to do in the morning, this is it.’
‘Well, when all this is done I owe you both a big slap-up meal to thank you for all your hard work,’ Helena said. ‘And Margery. We can get Dawn to babysit.’ Dawn was at Nathalie’s now, having volunteered to look after the kids.
‘That sounds like a fab idea,’ Nathalie said. ‘I haven’t been out for ages.’
‘Maybe you can bring your mystery man and we can finally meet him?’ Helena asked, looking from Nathalie to Johnny who was studiously concentrating on the task in hand.
‘Helena! You know that topic is off limits,’ Nathalie scolded.
‘I know, I know,’ Helena laughed, searching their faces for clues or possibly even blushes, but finding nothing. ‘I’m just so intrigued, it’s all so mysterious. Aren’t you dying to know who he is, Johnny?’
