‘No. Not when he realised I’d been with Jack all evening while he was standing outside like a fool. His words.’
‘And I suppose Jack didn’t enjoy discovering that Oliver was already inside, having coffee?’
‘No. I tried to explain. To both of them. That it wasn’t what it looked like. Neither of them were having any of it.’
‘So they both left.’
‘Yes. Arguing. I could hear them as they walked out of the yard.’
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the muffled chaos below.
‘Is it really okay that Maisie’s playing with Barney in the shop?’ Bridie asked suddenly. ‘I keep worrying something might happen.’
‘It’s fine,’ Hannah said. ‘I could tell you needed to talk. Rupert understands.’
‘He’s lovely,’ Bridie said quietly. ‘I’m glad I finally met him.’ She just wished it had been under happier circumstances.
Hannah smiled. ‘Now. What’s really worrying you?’
Bridie looked down at her hands. ‘I don’t know what to do. About either of them. Or the theatre.’
‘The theatre?’
‘I don’t know if the painters and decorators are still coming next week. Or the cleaners Jack hired. It was so close, so close to being ready for a play. And now I don’t know what’s going to happen.’
Hannah’s eyes sharpened. ‘Did you say there’s still paint there? Overalls? Cleaning things?’
‘Yes. Hoovers too. Henry hoovers, probably in readiness for Jack’s crack team of cleaners.’
‘Stay there,’ Hannah said suddenly, already on her feet.
Bridie listened as Hannah thundered down the stairs, voices overlapping – Hannah, Rupert, Maisie – then the unmistakable sound of Hannah on the phone.
When she returned, she looked far too pleased with herself.
‘I’ve spoken to Rupert,’ Hannah said. ‘And I’ve made some calls.’
Bridie blinked. ‘Calls?’
‘I’ve enlisted help.’
Before Bridie could ask another question, voices drifted in through the open window – laughter, footsteps on cobbles, the unmistakable hum of people gathering. She glanced out of thewindow, then bolted down the stairs, flung open the door and stopped short.
Everyone was there – all the shopkeepers from Cobblers Yard.
Joss, grinning, with his fiancée Emily. Mabel and Marjorie already rolling up imaginary sleeves. Reggie, flanked by a couple Bridie didn’t recognise.
‘We brought plus-ones,’ Joss said cheerfully.
‘Many hands make light work,’ Marjorie added.
Reggie gestured to the couple beside him. ‘From The Beach House. I thought once we’ve finished painting, we might start some tentative auditions. He sings beautifully. She plays piano.’
‘Can I paint props?’ Maisie asked eagerly. ‘Like scenery?’
Bridie laughed, blinking back tears. ‘Maisie, that would be perfect.’
She wasn’t sure how word had spread so quickly on Sunday morning – she suspected the gossip girls – but by the time they set off towards the theatre, the group had swelled to nearly twenty.
