He pursed his lips. ‘I was hoping we could have a sensible conversation but if you’re going to be like this.’
Blythe put on her most professional face. ‘I’m sorry. What would you like to know about the Grinch?’
‘When you’re planning on taking it and the sign down.’
‘Sorry, no can do. You saw how excited Leonora was about it. Best display yet. It’s exactly what we need to win the competition and secure the prize money for charity. There’s a lot riding on this year’s display.’
‘Come on, Blythe, it’s a prank that’s got out of hand. You’re not seriously expecting to have that monstrosity flashing outside my window until Christmas. Are you?’
‘Lights stay on until twelfth night, which is the fifth of January.’ She did her Grinch smile and then stopped herself. Nobody liked a smart-arse.
‘I don’t want to go to war with you but I will if I have to.’ His jaw tensed.
‘It won’t just be me though will it? You’ll be taking on the whole village. Ooh, actually I had something to ask you. The HCCC were wondering if you know any celebs who could switch on the lights next week. Might help get some press interest and steal a march on the competitors.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re unbelievable. Totally freaking unbelievable,’ he muttered, as he walked away.
‘Is that a maybe?’ she called.
‘No!’ he snapped. Perhaps that wasn’t the best time to ask for a favour.
*
Eden’s recovery was coming on in leaps and bounds. Everyone kept telling Vicky how amazing the keyhole surgery had been and that years ago Eden would have been in hospital for a couple of weeks, but despite her speedy recovery her being at home was still causing Vicky issues. Until Eden was back at school she had to stay at home with her, which she loved, but it meant no work and no dog walking. The factory had been very accommodating and even had carer days for exactly this scenario, but her dog-walking clients were less understanding. But then they weren’t getting the service they were paying for. Despite the best efforts of Norman, Phyllis, Blythe and a few others some dogs were not going out on all the walks they were due. Princess and Barnaby were a particular issue because nobody could handle them. As she was handing out refunds and apologies left, right and centre she’d decided she needed another income stream to bridge the gap. And she’d come up with just the thing.
Blythe stood and stared at the pile of wool on the kitchen table. ‘Explain it to me again,’ she said.
‘It’s pom-poms,’ said Vicky, trying not to get exasperated.
‘I get that bit. What I don’t understand is why people are going to pay money for something they could make themselves.’
‘Because everyone loves something handmade. Have you not seen how popular things like this are on Etsy? Come and look at the finished articles,’ said Vicky, leading the way into the lounge where Eden was sitting on the sofa surrounded by yet more wool.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ said Blythe, giving Eden a gentle hug. ‘Blimey it’s a proper little sweat shop in here.’
‘What’s a sweat shop?’ asked Eden, not looking up from the brown pom-pom she was making.
‘It’s when children…’ began Blythe, but Vicky was shaking her head so Blythe changed tack. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about. Tell me about this brown pom-pom you’re making.’
‘It’s going to be a robin.’ Eden held up the brown lump of wool proudly.
‘How?’ asked Blythe.
Vicky picked up one from the sofa. ‘Here’s one I made earlier from a YouTube video.’
‘How veryBlue Peter.’
‘I know right? See he’s got a red wool tummy, googly eyes and a bit of orange felt for a beak.’ She held up the pom-pom, now dangling from a long piece of wool on her finger. Vicky was very proud of her fat little robin tree decoration.
‘That’s actually really cute,’ said Blythe, having a closer look.
‘And there’s Christmas puddings with white tops to look like sauce and when we add felt holly they look fab,’ said Vicky picking up another.
Eden started to giggle. ‘And sprouts in hats,’ she said, holding up a green one with more googly eyes and a red felt cone on top.’
‘These are surprisingly good,’ said Blythe.
Vicky gave her a playful swipe. ‘I figured if I sold them for three pounds each or two for a fiver I only have to sell forty to make a hundred quid! Or a hundred to make two hundred and fifty smackers!’ Vicky was fired up at the prospect. That was easy money given that Phyllis had given her most of the wool and Eden already had a pom-pom-making kit. It was also money she desperately needed if they were going to have a decent Christmas.
