‘Only…’ Jowan added cautiously. ‘Best prepare Jude for the magician.’
‘Magician?’
‘Took me the best part of an hour retrievin’ that dove from the ballroom rafters yesterday. Be a shame to cancel now.’
‘Oh god.’
‘They’ll follow the minstrels.’
‘What’s a minstrel when it’s at home?’
‘You know,Hey nonny nonny, strumming their lutes, singing romantic ballads from long ago. Big hats. Mint’s roped them into helping serve the cheese twists as well.’
Elliot drew a deep breath. ‘I’ll warn Jude.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
The men shook hands on parting at the grand lobby as two subdued-looking lads carried a rolled red carpet from a van into the ballroom and Minty boomed into her mobile about a late delivery of thrones, ‘Andnotthe gold ones, we want the burnished oak.’
‘Do I want to know what that’s about?’ asked Elliot.
‘Shouldn’t think so.’ Jowan patted him on the shoulder with a stoical smile and sent him on his way.
Looking up, Elliot followed a cloud of drifting balloons of, it transpires, notquitethe right shades of cornflower and powder blue, now lost to the summer sky. They’d escaped in Jennifer’s hurry to get them back in her van.
‘If it’s any consolation, she’s like that with everyone at the moment,’ he called out to the poor woman over the lawns, but she didn’t seem to hear him as she slammed the van door shut.
He watched as she sped past without so much as a nod, and Elliot, being an affable, take-life-as-it-comes sort of soul, didn’t think to consider the escaped balloons, now way up amongst the blue, a warning portent for his wedding day.
Hidden away in the camellia grove behind the Big House, a couple were secreted on a picnic blanket amongst the greenery, enjoying the view of the Atlantic breakers.
Mrs Crocombe poured two cups of tea from a Thermos while a smiling James da Costa fixed a pink bloom behind her ear, neither of them minding it was the last flower of the season and more than a little faded.
‘Letitia,’ he cooed softly, just for the sake of enjoying the sound of her name.
The summer breeze made the petals at Mrs C.’s temple flutter.
‘To us?’ she proposed, coyly, lifting her cup to his.
‘And a prosperous future,’ he added with a curling smile, as the balloons floated out of sight far above them.
Chapter Eighteen
Joy felt bad that, in the end, the shop’s website was so simple. It hadn’t taken long to make, using her own tried-and-tested template which she knew how to adapt and expand with ease.
All the stock that she’d put on her system on their first day in the village was now listed for sale in the Borrow-A-Bookshop’s online store and configured so the laptop, connected to the EPOS, would receive a notification as soon as someone bought anything online.
The second-hand stock still needed descriptions adding but that was a job for Jowan or someone who knew the first thing about antiquarian books – and that definitely wasn’t her, though she might have given it a good go if he’d asked. Now all she had to do was test it and the site could go live.
Saturday had come around quickly in the midst of all Joy’s hard work. It hadn’t been easy juggling it with serving people in the shop every day, or baking the scones each evening ready for the steady stream of customers who kept the café ticking over. Joy had just about managed to keep on top of clearing plates and washing up, which was a job in itself.
Then there’d been the task of installing the shop’s security systems – discreet cameras linked to a mobile, where Jowan would receive alerts if ever anyone tried the doors or windows after nine at night.
Joy had tackled this part of her job in the early hours, setting an alarm for five in the morning so she had time to complete her work before the first customers arrived.
As always, Radia had slotted into the whole arrangement, only this time, instead of sloping off with a tablet to watch YouTube Kids or being entertained by a childminder or tutor, Radia had helped out all day long, crashing only around two o’clock for a few episodes ofBlueyand a nap. Whenever they got hungry Joy served up pasta or sandwiches, soup and crackers.
There’d been a particularly exciting instance when a card with no stamp had arrived for them on the doormat amongst the morning junk mail and Radia had ripped open an invitation to Jude’s hen do.
