‘Company?’ He raises one eyebrow, suddenly releasing me. So they’re not with him then. I take short gasps of breath and try to scramble back up the ladder, but he has me by the shoulder, hard. If they’re not with him, who are they?
‘Fi?’
I could cry with relief at hearing Margaret’s voice.
‘In here!’ I manage a good loud shout. ‘I think you should go.’ I finally manage to say something sensible to Jimmy Power.
‘Oh, really,’ he laughs, as does his lad. ‘Says who?’
‘Says me.’ Frank is standing in the doorway, carrying a barrel of beer. He shoves it towards the loan shark, knocking him backwards.
‘And me.’ It’s Dan, standing behind Frank, carrying a box of lager. He doesn’t actually do any shoving like Frank but he looks as if he might.
‘And me.’ It’s Margaret, in short purple hotpants and tights, her hands on her hips. Rosie and Lily are behind her.
‘I don’t know who you are, but you betterget going. This is private property.’ Frank pushes some more with his barrel and eyeballs the loan shark. The atmosphere is practically crackling with tension. Jimmy holds Frank’s stare before suddenly turning and nodding to his companion.
‘I will be back,’ he says with a wet smile to me. ‘Oh, happy birthday by the way,’ he says, pushing past Rosie who’s holding a happy birthday balloon and a tray of sandwiches. I know all the colour has drained from my face.
There’s a slamming of doors and the sound of a car leaving down the lane at speed. Not until I’ve heard the car engine disappear can I breathe or speak.
‘Oh my God, thank you!’ I fall on Frank and then Margaret and Dan, who puts his arm around my waist.
‘Who was that?’ Margaret asks.
‘A low-life. Don’t ask. Just some guy Sean’s doing business with.’ I roll my shaking hands together.
‘Nice guys,’ Dan says, and I slip out of his hold.
‘Frank, you were amazing.’ I hug him again.
‘Bare-knuckle fighter in his day, weren’t you, Frank? Local champion,’ Margaret tells me.
‘I remember his last fight,’ Grandad says as Evelyn wheels him in carrying a cake on his lap.
‘Hey, this is great.’ Dan looks around the barn.
‘What are you guys doing here?’ I finally manage a flabbergasted laugh, part hysteria, part relief.
‘If Muhammad won’t come to the mountain, the mountain will come to Muhammad.’ Margaret claps her hands together, seemingly forgetting about the guys she’s just seen off.
‘But what … what?’ I stammer. ‘Sean’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve had people here.’
‘But Sean isn’t here,’ says Margaret naughtily.
She’s right, I think. And right now there’s no way I want to be on my own. They’ve just saved mefrom … who knows what, and I’m not about to send them away. Sean should be grateful to them. Who knows what might have happened if they hadn’t turned up.
‘Can’t have our festival organiser sitting on her own on her birthday.’ Dan puts down the beers.
‘Festival Girl Friday,’ I correct him with a smile.
‘Got any candles?’ Grandad asks.
‘I can’t believe you’ve all turned up for me.’ Now I am getting teary. Margaret hands me a small glass from her jacket pocket and pours a vodka into it.
‘Thank you,’ I say. The radio goes back on, sandwiches are put on a table, and candles in bottles come out of one of the boxes I was putting away. I down the vodka and then another. Must be the shock, I think, feeling a mixture of relief and gratitude. Besides, what harm can a few quiet drinks with some friends do?
Chapter Thirty-two
