“I’ll come around next week and do a free survey on your wiring. A little wedding gift from the missus and me.”
I was so gobsmacked I could barely speak, but Petey thanked him profusely and pecked him on the cheek. Noah blushed like a spanked buttock. Petey drifted off towards a stall selling cotton candy and doughnuts. I waved at Gurpreet, the village chemist, who was manning the machine. His wife, Harpreet, was on the till. They were both filled with congratulations on our impending wedding.
“What would you like?”
Petey got a stick of candyfloss and I got a box of six doughnuts, but when it came time for reckoning, Harpreet’s hands went up.
“Absolutely not, William. Your money is no good here.”
“But—”
“I will not hear of it. Please.”
The same thing happened at the coffee hut, the coconut shy, and the hook-a-duck. By the time we had got around all the stalls, Petey was high on sugar and I almost had more money in my pocket than when I started.
“They’re meant to be raising funds for good causes,” I said.
“Clearly they think you’re a good cause!”
But I struggled to see how denying the local nursery or the village school two pounds benefited anybody. I’d have rather they had it than the taxman.
Judging duty started at eleven. We bumped into Mum by the floral marquee. She was on flower-and-suggestive-vegetable duty this year. Petey had bagsied the jams and preserves.
“I’m jealous,” I told him as I deposited him at the right marquee. “Mrs Craddoch does an incredible red onion chutney. She wins every year. Can’t get the recipe out of her.”
“I’ll keep a taste bud out for it.” Petey pecked me on the cheek. “Where are you off to now?”
“Poultry shed.” I pointed over my shoulder. “Somewhere in there is the best cock in the village, and it’s my job to find it.”
From the chickens, ducks, and pigeons it was on to the cakes, scones, and biscuits—which had to do double duty as lunch because by one o’clock, I was back at my medieval tent, being trussed into my suit of armour by the ever-faithful Bramley. I’d been shoehorned into sabaton, greave, cuisse and tasset, fauld, plackart, breastplate, and pauldron. I only had my gauntlets and helm to slide on when the bloated crimson face of Horatio Blunt appeared through the tent flaps.
“You absolute prick,” he said.
“Lovely to see you, too, Horatio.”
“This isn’t going to work, you know?”
I had no idea what he was talking about and said so. Horatio produced a copy ofThe Bulletin, held it aloft, and slammed it into his open hand.
“Bramley, dear fellow, could you give us a moment? Perhaps go check Achilles hasn’t wheedled his way out of his barding again.”
He gave me a weary glance, passing me my sword on his way out the door. He’d never been subtle, Bramley.
“What isn’t going to work?” I enquired.
“Don’t be coy, William, it doesn’t suit you.”
“But does this suit suit me? That’s the only question of importance today,” I said, pointing at my armour and hoping to drive him insane.
“I know what you’re doing.” Horatio was sneering, spittle flecking my previously spotless armour. I hadn’t seen a face that red since, well, since Indira’s heart burst all over the Great Lawn. “You’ve planted this little story in the paper in order to flush out other potential buyers. You’re trying to inflate the price. But I will not have it, William. Iwill not!”
He hit me on my right pauldron with his rolled-up newspaper.
“You realise this was made to withstand the blunt force of metal?”
“My clients have offered you a fair price, Dub-Dub. A very fair price indeed.”
“Oh, we’re back to Dub-Dub now. Over our little fit of pique, are we?”
