The Verger removed his head with a decidedly theatrical “Harumph!” and wandered off, chunnering to himself about how it was much better in the good old days when there were still ducking stools, stocks, and stakes in the centre of every village green.
“Odious little pleb. If I wasn't so strictly right-handed, I'm sure that I could find one spell, just one teensy, weensy little hex that would...” seethed Pearl.
“Now, now, Pearl. It doesn't do to mock the afflicted. Remember, we should pity them.”
Ruby smiled and continued to sip sedately on her most welcome cup of tea.
In less than a couple of hours, the sounds of construction, swearing, howls of pain (from mis-aimed hammer blows during aforesaid construction) and shrieks of fear (from tumbling ill-fitting and ill-fixed woodwork), had subsided, and the majority of stall holders were busily milling about, tottering from this stall to that, comparing their own efforts with that of their neighbours; some pleased that their achievements were greater, others embarrassed by the fact that bits of their own stalls fell off with tedious regularity. On the whole, though, it was a very credible and jolly-looking village fête. The stalls were bright, the bunting was up and the people were colourful (not least due to their exertions while erecting their various stalls).
Over a tannoy system the quality of which would make a railway station announcement sound crystal-clear, the Reverend summoned all stall holders to the bandstand for a brief speech before the Mayor opened the fête proper. Nobody had really understood a word, but everyone duly went over to the stand to see if he would either repeat it, or at least offer some vague indication of what he had just said.
“I won't keep you long…” (They had all heard that one before; it usually meant a three-hour sermon) “But I just wanted to say thank you, and jolly well done, for making the event look so splendid. Indeed, if the funds raised by this fête reflect only a small percentage of the effort you have all put in, we shall have achieved a great deal. So... In short, I wish you all the best of luck. Now, if you will all return to your stalls, I’d like to call on Mayor Whittle, here, and his two lovely secretaries, Trixie and Bubbles...”
At this point, Whittle snorted and frowned angrily at him, likewise the two girls.
“Oh. I'm sorry. Miss Swanson and Miss Savage...”
The two young women put on their most plastic, cutesy smiles, curtsied and waved coquettishly at the crowd.
“Dear me, yes. Such eager, committed young ladies, who always work so tirelessly for their employer, no matter what the hour; hard at it, sometimes, seven days and nights a week, with the kind of stamina and dedication you rarely see these days…”
Here, there were a number of giggles, and more than a few quizzical eyebrows were raised, but the Reverend continued, unaware and unabashed.
“And all, I might add, without any word of complaint... Truly, they are an example to us all... Anyway, as I said, I’d like to call on Mayor Whittle, Miss Swanson and Miss Savage to follow me now over to the churchyard gate to cut the ribbon and officially mark the opening of our fête. Once again, thank you and good luck! OK, so...Mr Mayor? Ladies?”
Neither Whittle nor his two personal assistants moved a muscle or said a word.
There was an uncomfortable minute or so of silence.
The Reverend hesitated, then he returned to the microphone.
“Oh. Oh, yes. Just before we go... This evening, at the end of the fête, our main sponsors have asked if they might give a small presentation... Doctor Hariman and his associates have done a lot of work behind the scenes this year to make certain things possible. Have you noticed the marvellous roses? So large, so colourful, so fragrant too. They are truly amazing, aren't they? Quite, quite splendid. These are no idle signs, no idle signs indeed. They grow so quickly. They offer a soft sign of Spring, a soft sign of Spring and seem to bloom and grow, bloom and grow, forever!”
It was true. The roses seemed to have spread, somehow. Ruby hadn't even noticed them on the way in, but now they seemed to be everywhere, and their scent was cloying, intoxicating, nearly overwhelming.
“Such a special gift from Doctor Hariman,” continued the Reverend. “Did you know that we have the exclusive rights to sell this strain of rose to raise money for good causes? The paperwork isn't quite finished yet, but more of that later. Anyway, I did promise the good Doctor and his colleagues a few moments of your time at the end of the day to show you what they are all about, so I'd be most obliged if you'd stick around and, um, indulge me in this small matter.... And, err... That's it, really. Thanks!”
With that, he clambered down from the stage along with the skimpily-dressed Miss Swanson and Miss Savage and the portly, balding, heavily perspiring Mayor Whittle.
Ruby and Pearl exchanged a knowing glance.
“Alea acte este,” murmured Ruby.
“Indeed,” agreed Pearl.
Chapter 14
Ruby Meets A Bad Driver
There was a great flurry of excitement and activity as people went to their stalls. Ruby donned her headscarf, adorned herself with a couple of silly-sized gold hoop earrings, wrapped a long, and incredibly loud, paisley shawl around her shoulders and started practising what she considered to be a series of impressively intense and mystical facial expressions, until Pearl asked her if her old toothache had come back again.
Suitably chastened, Ruby turned her amateur (melo)dramatics down a few notches.
As Pearl was leaving the tent to take on her role of the 'average body at the fête', she turned to her sister, smiled, and stage-whispered:
“Showtime!”
“Quite. Let's give 'em the old razzle-dazzle,” Ruby agreed, then added under her breath: “I just hope it's not a farewell performance.”
**********
Pearl had just left the Women's Institute Cake Stall, when she noticed Tobias skulking
