‘Come on then!’ Lettie grabs my arm with surprising strength. Clearly stacking shop shelves is an underrated workout. ‘The girls are having their morning coffee outside. They’ll want to hear all about this!’
‘The girls?’
‘Oh, you’ll love them! Wilma runs the village committee and Madge knows everything there is to know about the comings and goings in Thimblenouth. We’ve been trying to solve the mystery of the Kingfisher Arms for months!’
Before I can protest, Lettie has hooked her arm through mine and steered me out of the shop, closed the door behind us, and is marching me across the village green. My empty shopping basket dangles uselessly from my fingers as she propels me towards a closed building. Whatever it was once, all that remains is a couple of strings of moth-eaten bunting hanging in its dusty windows.
Two women are sitting at a table outside with a big Victoria sponge on a cake stand, and a pretty china teapot and a stack of dainty cups.
‘Wilma! Madge!’ Lettie calls out with glee. ‘Come and meet our mysterious camper! She’s got permission to stay at the Kingfisher Arms!’
‘Has she indeed?’ The taller of the two women, Wilma, has silver hair scraped back into a severe bun and a gaze so steely that I can imagine her reducing grown men to tears. ‘How very interesting.’
Madge, who’s shorter and has a jolly face and a head of bouncing white curls, pushes out an extra chair for me. ‘Sit down, dear! This is tremendous, we’ve been absolutely gasping to know what’s going on up there!’
I find myself deposited in a chair before I can protest, the shopping basket banging against my thighs as Madge puts a cup in front of me and fills it with tea from the teapot, and Wilma watches me with such a suspicious look that she is almost certainly a retired police detective.
‘Now then.’ She leans forwards. ‘Tell us everything. When did you meet the owner? What’s he like? We were hoping he’d change his mind about converting the pub into a house given all the resentment in the village, but he doesn’t seem to give a monkeys. He must be a horrible, selfish man.’
‘I… well… it’s complicated,’ I stammer, wondering if there’s an easy way to explain that I’m actually camping there illegally in a stolen van and, contrary to popular belief, definitelydon’thave permission to do so.
‘Complicated how?’ Madge’s ears prick up.
Lettie returns from a shed at the side of the building with another extra chair and sits down to join the interrogation, seemingly unconcerned about leaving her shop to fend for itself. ‘Yes, spill the beans! What’s he like? Is he as awful as we think?’
‘You think he’s awful?’
‘Well, what else are we supposed to think?’ Wilma says grimly. ‘Despite solemn promises that the pub would always be a pub, he snatched it up to prevent anyone else from buying it, and then he disappeared for years like a chuffin’ ghost. No introduction, no explanation, no consideration for the people who’ve lost the heart of their community.’
‘It’s been terrible for business,’ Madge adds sadly. ‘That pub brought people to the village. Families would come for Sunday lunch, walkers would stop for a pint and a sandwich. They’d take longer on the walks because there was somewhere to have a break, and then they’d come back here and browse the shops. Tourism hasn’t been the same since it closed, especially with the car park shut down to visitors.’
What? It takes all my willpower to keep my face neutral, but internally, I’m sinking in quicksand. The car park isn’t open? Isthatwhy Reece felt so safe camping there? Is that why the only other occupant is a skip? Why wouldn’t Reece tell me that and send me on my way, especially after our first meeting?
‘No one’s told us anything beyond the fact that it’s being turned into a private residence. We’re protesting regularly and we’ve let the relevant authorities know that this is completely unacceptable, but it doesn’t make any difference,’ Wilma says. ‘That pub was part of this village for over fifty years. People met their spouses there, celebrated birthdays, held wakes. It’s not just a building, it’s our history. We have a right to know what’s happening with it.’
‘And now it’s being gutted by some builder who won’t tell anyone what he’s doing,’ Madge continues. ‘Have you met him? Reece Sterling? Pleasant enough, but secretive as anything.’
I nearly choke on my tea. ‘You know Reece?’
‘Oh yes, he comes into the shop,’ Lettie says. ‘Lovely chap. Always polite, but ask him anything about the work and he clams up completely. Been working up there for months now, but he won’t say a word about what he’s doing or who he’s working for.’
‘What’s he got to hide?’ Madge agrees. ‘If it was something good for the village, why all the secrecy?’
Secretive?Reece? I’m trying to think of the last time I met a moreopenperson than Reece when Wilma slams her hand on the table hard enough to rattle the teacups. ‘Exactly! Which is why your arrival is so fascinating. You must have spoken to the owner directly to get permission to park there. What did he tell you about the plans? Is he takinganynotice of the protests in the village? We were quite proud of our banner, and Reece must have told him what’s going on…’
‘I really don’t know anything.’
‘Oh, come now,’ Lettie says encouragingly. ‘We’re all friends here! What’s he like? Old? Young? Millionaire?Billionaire?’
‘Does he seem like the sort who’d care about the village?’ Madge asks hopefully. ‘Or is he, as we fear, just another one of those rich second-home people who thinks rural communities exist solely for their entertainment while they holiday here for two weeks a year to escape their busy city lives? They’re ruining small villages like this up and down the country!’
I feel crushed by the weight of their expectations. Here are three women who care deeply about their community. I remember how much life here revolved around that pub from when I was younger.Everyonewent to the Kingfisher Arms, and now they think I’ve got answers that might give them hope when this has done nothing but confuse me even more.
I had zero idea that the car park was off-limits. Did I miss a sign in the dark on that first night? Did I drive right through ‘no entry’ tape? And why didn’t Reece tell me that?
I look around, searching for a way out of this without attracting further suspicion. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you all, but I really should get going, I’ve got to get some shopping, and?—’
‘Nonsense!’ Lettie waves my concerns away. ‘The shop’s not going anywhere and this is much more important!’
