Not far away, Theo and Kit were unloading the back of a minibus, hefting a drum kit and assorted musical instruments around as they hooted with laughter about something.
‘You’re doing a great job,’ Clover praised Harley as they approached. ‘How can we help?’
He pointed over at Kirsten, perched on a step ladder hanging bunting above the door of one of the vacant buildings. ‘You’d have to ask her. I’m the puppet, not the master.’
‘Quite right. And was it her who convinced you to lose the last of the whiskers?’
‘Nope,’ he said almost cheerfully, ‘that was Rosie.’
‘I see.’ Albie glanced around, ‘Whereisyour little shadow?’
‘Up at the manor with Laurie, Ezra and Vanessa, making one of those social media picture frames for people to take photos.’
‘Sounds good. And Tori? Ethan?’ They weren’t quite what the younger generation liked to callofficial, but from what he’dwitnessed the previous week and the enthusiasm Tori’s family greeted Ethan with, it felt promising. He had high hopes.
‘Cordoned off both ends of the village with orange cones, and currently sticking up the parking signs.’
‘Oh, brilliant,’ Clover clapped her hands, ‘someone as optimistic as me that hordes will turn up.’
Harley checked his watch, the cheap model a far cry from the one he’d first arrived at the manor with. ‘Huh. They’ve been a while. Maybe we should call and check everything’s okay?’
‘Call who?’ Tori said behind them.
‘Harley was concerned.’ Albie turned around as she and Ethan strolled up. ‘Apparently you’ve been gone for some time.’ They weren’t holding hands, but were standing close enough their arms were touching.
Tori, hair down and looking beautiful in an electric blue thigh-skimming dress with a few gold bangles on her arm, flushed. ‘We decided to put all the signs up, even if it’s overkill.’
Noticing how her heather-toned lipstick had mysteriously vanished, Albie deduced it had been kissed off.
Kirsten hurried across the road, her tone mock-scolding as her plait swung over one shoulder. ‘Why are you standing around chatting?’ She checked her clipboard. ‘There’s still loads to do, and we have less than three hours.’
Harley did a mock bow. ‘Tasks then, Milady?’
Kirsten rolled her eyes, but her mouth curved. ‘Okay. We need to set tables with cloths, flowers, cutlery and the vintage plates from the charity shop. Also, direct the catering vans to their spots, collect the boxes of cakes from my flat, fill the drink tanks with cordial and lemon pieces, help the volunteers set up the temporary bar… Also, all the decorating and the kids’ area needs sorting with the giant Jenga, Connect-4 and Twister. And about a million other things after that, plus someone needs to meet with the estate agent in charge of selling thevacant cottages and giving the viewings of our completed ones this afternoon. Hopefully people will bite if they can see the potential.’
‘And the band?’ Tori’s eyes lit up.
‘The band,’ Kirsten looked excited. ‘Still can’t believe we managed to book them, especially at short notice. Having connections comes in handy sometimes. Right, Harley?’
He shifted uncomfortably, reaching up to tug his baseball cap down before realising he wasn’t wearing it. Shoving his hands in his pockets instead, he muttered, ‘My ex-agent has a friend who knows their agent and agreed a nominal fee. But they also wanted to help once they knew what we’re dealing with.’ Referring in part to the nuisance calls they’d been receiving from the developer to sell up, and the leaflets posted through cottage doors. ‘Plus, the lead singer had an ex-girlfriend from around here years ago and is fond of the local area.’
While it was helpful for today’s event that the manor had stopped concealing itself and the village, Albie couldn’t help wishing it would play silly buggers with the developers’ staff members when they came to call.
‘Well, it’s amazing. People will come just for them.’ Kirsten jerked her chin as a van with tinted windows pulled up just beyond the cordon. ‘Oh, that could be the band now.’
A group of men in their forties erupted from the vehicle in jeans and T-shirts, relaxed and smiling as they took in the picturesque country village, with its rose-strewn grey stone cottages, leafy green trees and burbling stream.
‘Morning,’ one of them called, brown hair falling over striking blue eyes as he waved, ‘this all looks great.’
‘Aren’t they the ones who had a massive hit about being lovely?’ Clover asked, astonished. ‘Saw the posters, but the name didn’t mean much.’
Kirsten nodded, looking triumphant. ‘Yes.’
Tori had told Albie they’d been a huge success in the mid-2000s and were still going strong. It wasn’t his normal genre, but he’d listened to some of their music over the past few days. ‘Personally, I’m partial to the one about getting butterflies,’ he said, taking Clover’s hand.
‘Okay,’ Kirsten said briskly, ‘soppy stuff later.’ Assigning them all jobs, she tucked her clipboard under her arm. ‘Harley, don’t forget to change.’
‘What for?’ Albie asked.
