And despite the jet lag and being outside in the biting cold—ill-equipped in her Melbourne winter attire—and despite being deprived of a decent shower that morning, Chloe was in her element and feeling the satisfaction of a job done well. She was also basking in the Christmassy goodness of it all, glad that she’d come all this way.
She felt a presence beside her. Archer—another reason to be glad.
“You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Honestly, it’s run like clockwork. That’s kudos to your mum.”
“You’ve impressed her, and she likes you, I can tell.”
“Well, I think she’s amazing. She must have done this as her career, right?”
“Running events?”
“Yeah.”
“No, not as a career, but she’s always been the organiser for village events, ever since I can remember.”
“That makes sense. She clearly knows her stuff and she’s very well respected. I’ve learnt so much from her today. I’ve loved it; it’s been reinvigorating.”
“How so?”
“Just that a lot of the events I run back home can be kind of tick-a-box, you know? I’m starting to contemplate a move to something else career-wise. Maybe dirty-dish-tourism will take off.”
That sparked a loud laugh. “But seriously, well done you for today.”
She dipped in a tiny curtsey and shrugged one shoulder in mock modesty.
“Chloe?” Cecily. Chloe dropped the little performance and subconsciously stood to attention.
“Hi, yes, Cecily. It’s all going so well. I was just saying to Archer.”
“Quite.” Still no smile. Chloe doubted Archer was right about Cecily liking her—respecting her, maybe. “You’ve been very helpful, but I do need one more thing, dear.”
“Sure, yeah, no problem.”
“Actually, I need you, too, Archer. It seems that Mrs Capel has wandered off and got herself all the way to The Lord Nelson. They’ve just telephoned. Can you go and collect her? I’ve got to find Mr Capel. He’s somewhere in this crowd and he must be frantic.”
Chloe and Archer shared a quick look before they both responded in the affirmative. “Best to take the Range Rover. Your car won’t really do, will it?” Archer’s car, as Chloe had discovered the day before, was a vintage MG—beautiful, but hardly suitable for collecting a wayward pensioner.
Cecily held out a set of keys and Archer took them from her. “I’ll take that, dear. No need of it now.” She indicated the clipboard and Chloe handed it over.
“This way.” Archer weaved through the crowd and Chloe struggled to keep up. At least she could see his head above most others, carving a path. They cleared the field and he strode around the back of his mother’s house to the garage. “It’s a tight fit, so I’ll back out before you climb in.”
“Has she done this before?” Chloe asked as they zoomed down the narrow lane. She remembered the day before when she’d nearly been hit by a car and how Archer said that everyone sped around here. Including you, she thought.
“Mrs Capel? Yes. More and more these days, I’m told.”
“But why?”
“Why does she go off like this?”
“Yeah.”
“There hasn’t been an official diagnosis, as far as Mum knows, but she says it’s most likely dementia.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.”
“It is, especially considering that before she started to forget where she is, or even who she is, Eloise Capel was something of a legend. Quite the character, really.”
“In what way?”
“Well, for many years—decades—she would go off travelling by herself—safaris in Africa, sailing down the Mekong, that sort of thing. She even walked the Camino de Santiago when she was sixty-something. By herself.”
“Wow. And what, her husband just stayed here?”
“Yes.”
“And that worked for them?”
“Apparently. He said his job was to keep the home fires burning.”
“What an extraordinary marriage.”
“It is.”
“And how do you know so much about all of this? I suppose it must be local lore.”
“Definitely, but also, when I was old enough to start caring about people other than myself”—he gave her a quick self-deprecating smile—“that was just before drama school, I became a little obsessed with them, especially Mrs Capel.
“I started doing some research, you know, back issues of the local paper, that sort of thing. She was well lauded in this part of Oxfordshire, a local celebrity of sorts. Actually, I’ve always thought her story—their love story, especially—would make an exceptional film.”
Chloe nodded to herself as they pulled off the road and into the car park of a pub called The Lord Nelson. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
He exited the pub minutes later escorting Mrs Capel, her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. She was tall and slim and wore a soft pink woollen coat tied tightly around her waist. Unlike many women her age, she walked tall, shoulders back and her strong chin lifted proudly. Her silver hair was pulled into a high, loose bun and her high cheekbones had a hint of colour.
“She’s beautiful,” Chloe whispered to herself.
Archer opened the back door for Mrs Capel and when she was buckled into the seat, Chloe turned around and smiled. “Hello, Mrs Capel, I’m Chloe.”
The older woman’s eyes met hers and Chloe could see her straining to pull her focus back to the present. The moment wrenched Chloe’s heart, but she didn’t flinch, instead letting her gaze be a tether to the here and now. A blink and a smile, then, “Hello, Chloe. You remind me of my Daphne.”
Chloe beamed and turning back to face the front, she caught Archer’s eye. In his look, she could see the compassion and affection he felt for the elderly woman. It turned out that the world’s biggest film star was also a spectacularly nice human being.
I’m a goner.
Back in Penham, as they turned off the main road, Chloe saw Cecily standing at the entrance of the fair with a tall man, who Chloe assumed was Mr Capel. He was wringing his hands and he nodded at something Cecily was saying to him. The poor man, Chloe thought.
“That’s my Richard,” said the voice behind her. “Stop. Stop the car.”
Archer did as he was told, pulling the car to the side of the road. There were safer places to
