‘A good long time, two weeks. All manner of things can get settled in a fortnight,’ she said, her eyes narrowing upon the eldest newcomer. ‘Travelling alone?’
‘Always,’ Radia blurted between licks of her cone.
‘No, um… daddy in tow?’
And there it was. The prying. The wondering how it all worked. Joy’s heart sank even though she was used to the questions.
Exactly how did a mother travel the world with her kid, making money as they went? What about home? What about family? What about The Poor Daddy?It made her furious. And it made her want to turn and run. Fortunately, someone new stepped inside the shop, saving her from the inquisition.
Everyone looked expectantly at the rather glamorous, haughty-looking woman with a clipboard now standing inside the doorframe. She had a look which suggested she did not have time for anyone’s nonsense today.
‘Mornin’, Minty,’ chimed Mrs Crocombe, leaving off the scent of whatever titbit of gossip she’d been chasing Joy for.
While Joy glanced at this Minty woman, who was sharply tugging her green bodywarmer down at the hem, Radia was far more absorbed in watching the red-faced man in the skinny T-shirt who was clumsily clattering cups by the coffee machine. He’d spun round and hunched over the levers as soon as the busy lady burst in and Radia noticed the tips of his ears had gone red.
‘How’s the wedding ice cream coming along?’ Minty demanded over everyone’s heads.
‘You’ll have to ask our little taste-tester here,’ Mrs Crocombe said smilingly, looking at Radia clutching her near-empty cone.
‘Wha’?’ Radia gaped, suddenly aware she was being looked at by lots of people.
‘You’re the first customer to sample my confetti burst ice cream for Minty’s new wedding business. It’s my classic clotted-cream flavour with sugar sprinkles mixed in – that’s the confetti bit – and a shot of sweet goosegog puree right in the middle. That’s the “burst”. So,isit good enough for a bride, Radia?’
The busy lady held her pen over her clipboard as though whatever Radia said now was a matter of the utmost importance.
Radia looked to her mum who nodded in encouragement, making her feel suddenly like a judge on a singing show.
‘Well…’ She took her time. ‘I dunno what goosegog is… but I loved it!’
Minty immediately ticked a box with a curt nod. ‘Good, good. That’s another job off my list. Forty litres, in the first instance? To be stored here, yes?’
‘As agreed,’ Mrs Crocombe told her, wiping her cloth over the counter with a look of proud triumph before suddenly stopping to follow little Radia’s line of sight. The girl was peering once more at Bovis’s slumped shoulders.
‘Mr Bovis?’ hissed Mrs Crocombe with a fixed smile. ‘Minty’s come down from the Big House to see us.’
The man turned with an affected look of surprise as though he hadn’t been aware of Minty’s arrival until now. ‘Ah! Right you are,’ he puffed, the blush spreading across his neck. ‘Good mornin’, Mrs Clove-Congreve.’
‘No need for formality, Bovis. You’re not my estate’s man anymore,’ replied Minty, a little uneasily, even if she was standing poker straight with her nose held high.
‘No, nor nothin’ else neither,’ he grumped under his breath, before giving a little sigh of surrender and carrying himself away through the rainbow ribbons once more.
‘Ah, I see,’ Minty lowered her voice. ‘Still not recovered, then?’
‘He’ll come round,’ Mrs Crocombe assured her.
Minty shrugged off Bovis’s troubles and chirped, ‘Righty-ho, lots to be getting on with.’ She barrelled out of the shop, her face buried in her ‘to do’ list once more.
As soon as she was gone, Mrs Crocombe leaned conspiratorially across the counter.
‘That’s the lady of the manor, Araminta Clove-Congreve. Mr Bovis was her estate man for years. He was ever so… devoted.’ She winked in an exaggerated way that almost made Radia’s eyes pop out of her face. Lowering her voice, as though she fancied herself the very definition of discretion, she added, ‘Minty recently married the man who owns your bookshop, Jowan de Marisco, only Mr Bovis can’t get over his feelings. Poor fellow.’
‘Oh dear,’ Joy said, not for Bovis’s sake, but for her own. This woman seriously loved to gossip. They’d have to avoid her as best they could this summer.
‘Was he herboyfriend?’ Radia asked, deeply invested, and making Joy fluster again.
‘I haven’t paid yet,’ she chirped.
Mrs Crocombe didn’t seem to hear. ‘Oh no, it wasn’t like that,’ she told the little girl, adding in a low voice, ‘but he loved her, all the same.’ And, even more quietly, ‘Broken heart’s a terrible burden.’
