After a full, industrious day they both stood back and admired their work. Jasmine had proved herself useful, not only fetching, carrying, holding things in place and making tea but, on her insistence, had made a tasty lunch. Once Robin had caught a whiff of the quiche cooking in her new oven and saw the colourful salad and crusty French bread, he’d soon ditched his butty box.
Now it was early evening and they were both in need of a drink. Jasmine opened another bottle, this time prosecco.
‘You seem to have an abundance of booze,’ smiled Robin, remembering the two bottles of wine she’d had at the ready the previous night.
‘I was given a crateful from Sam, a house-warming present,’ she replied, popping the cork. Pouring the fizz into two flutes, she gave one to Robin. ‘Cheers, Robin. The kitchen’s amazing.’ She clinked his glass.
‘My pleasure,’ he answered, and truly meant it.
Chapter 11
‘Agenda item number three, Tea by the Sea,’ announced the vicar with enthusiasm, looking round the table expectantly. He was hoping for a good response. Last year’s Tea by the Sea fundraising event had made a hefty sum, and the church roof wasn’t going to mend itself.
There was a brief moment before Trish coughed and began the conversation.
‘Well, I have put the word out and enrolled a few volunteers.’
This gained her a big beam from the vicar.
‘Splendid,’ he said, then looked directly at Bunty, who up until now had been unusually quiet. ‘And Bunty, have you anything to add?’
Bunty had anticipated being roped into the event. Since Trish had asked her, she had given the matter some thought and was rather pleased with the result.
‘Actually I have vicar,’ she replied.
‘Oh, and what’s that, pray tell?’ he asked with a charming smile.
‘I intend to read tarot cards.’
The vicar’s eyes widened and a stony silence followed.
‘Sorry…?’
‘All in good taste. I’ll dress up as a fortune teller, I thought, and read people’s fortunes. As long as they know it’s all tongue-in-cheek, the punters will love it,’ she stated.
‘But… couldn’t this be seen as playing with the dark arts?’ asked Trish, mouth gaping open. Bunty gave a bark of laughter.
‘No, darling. It’ll be seen as me playing the fool. I intend to attract customers for fun, that’s all. And besides, I won’t come cheap.’
‘How much would you charge then?’ Ned, landlord of the village pub, laughed heartily while a few smirks were exchanged around the table.
‘Ten pounds a reading,’ Bunty said, almost defiantly.
Hetty, who drove the mobile library, gasped. ‘Ten pounds!’ she exclaimed.
‘I’ll be worth every penny. They’ll get the full monty: me dressed up as a gypsy, called Rosy-Lee, I’m thinking, in a cosy caravan and reading the tarot cards. I’ll even throw in a crystal ball,’ she said with gusto.
‘A crystal ball?’ the vicar questioned with a frown.
‘Well, an old goldfish bowl. I’ll turn it upside down and fill it with fairy lights, it’ll do.’
‘And whose cosy caravan?’ asked Jim, a local farmer.
‘Yours. I’ll use one of your shepherd’s huts.’ Bunty locked eyes with Jim, as if challenging him to object. He didn’t.
‘But Bunty dear, do you really think people will pay ten pounds for a reading?’ Trish tentatively asked.
‘Yes I do. They’ll be curious,’ came the forthright reply.
