A Fête Worse Than Death Read Free Page B

Steadman?’
    Mr Steadman looked annoyed in turn. ‘I’d rather see to it now. Thomas is off on a visit to a school friend’s on Monday and I’d like to get everything arranged before then.’
    Whitfield’s lips tightened, then he shrugged in resignation. ‘Very well. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.’ He turned to Haldean and Rivers. ‘Nice to have met you again.’ He tipped his hat and walked off between the tents, the vicar by his side.
    â€˜He is a bit old,’ said Haldean thoughtfully, accepting the cigarette that his friend was offering. ‘For Marguerite, I mean.’
    â€˜Oh, he’s all right,’ said Rivers, striking a match. ‘Isabelle’s funny about him. She thinks he’s deadly dull, but that’s because he talks about horses and not about her. She’s so used to having blokes dance attendance that she can’t credit anyone simply doesn’t notice she’s around.’
    Haldean grinned. ‘Don’t tell me she’s jealous of Marguerite.’
    â€˜Good grief, no. I mean really no. But Marguerite’s terribly intense about him and Isabelle finds it all a bit wearing.’
    They finished their cigarettes. The band, wearied of Gilbert and Sullivan, started on Jerome Kern. ‘
And if I tell them
. . .’ hummed Rivers. A series of renewed shrieks bit through the air. ‘Your little pal on the chair swings is kicking up a rumpus, isn’t she?’
    â€˜I’ll say,’ agreed Haldean with a lazy smile. ‘Mind you, I don’t suppose she’s making that din all by herself.’ He glanced at the tent behind them. ‘If Boscombe manages a nap in this racket he’s doing well. Is he asleep in there?’
    Rivers lifted the tent flap and peered inside. ‘Dead to the world,’ he announced briefly. ‘Hello, here’s Isabelle.’
    â€˜Have you got your trumpets and drums handy?’ she asked. ‘Do give me a cigarette, Greg. I haven’t had one all afternoon. Thanks. Mrs Griffin won the cake competition and she’s making a sort of royal progress across the fair. Virtue rewarded and all of that.’ She sucked in the smoke gratefully. ‘Thank goodness, that’s better. I hoped to be able to slope off after the cake judging but Mother was there and although she wouldn’t actually say anything, she’d look, you know. She’s still got the idea that smoking is a thing that a lady does in private, so I went round the side of the cake tent and that was no better because Mrs Verrity and Colonel Whitfield were there and three was definitely a crowd.’
    â€˜I say!’ said her brother. ‘They weren’t . . . were they?’
    â€˜No, Greg, they weren’t. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something going on. She’s still awfully good-looking in that preserved kind of way, even if she’s old enough to be his mother.’
    â€˜No, she isn’t,’ countered her brother.
    â€˜Well, she’s getting on a bit at any rate. And I wouldn’t put it past him,’ she added darkly. ‘No, they seemed to be having an argument. They stopped when they saw me, of course, but Mrs Verrity wasn’t happy. Unlike Mrs Griffin who’s on cloud nine. Jack? What is it?’ For her cousin had stopped listening to her and stepped forward. There was a small green blur and the little girl in the velveteen frock flung herself out of the crowd and into his arms, sobbing.
    Kneeling down, he patted her back and looked helplessly at Isabelle.
    â€˜What is it, sweetheart? Tell us,’ she said.
    The arms tightened round Haldean’s neck. ‘It’s Daisy,’ she said between sobs. ‘My dolly She’s broken. I put her cot down all safely to go and play and when I got back someone had thrown Daisy out of her cot and stood on her.’
    â€˜Oh dear,’ said Haldean