I only came to get ingredients for the pie I promised Reece days ago, and I was hoping to get in and out without any fuss or difficult questions.
Wilma is already bearing down on me, looking like she’s trying to get a glimpse of the shopping list I’m clutching, mainly because I didn’t want to forget something and have to come back for a second interrogation in the same day. ‘Can we help you find anything?’
I hold the basket I’ve picked up like a shield in front of me, and I’m so focused on the way she’s peering at me that I fail to notice Madge approaching from behind until the shopping list is plucked from my grasp, and she immediately takes it over to Lettie, who has come out from behind the counter to join in the cross-examination.
‘Oh yes, we have everything you need!’
I thank her and go to take it back, but Madge holds it out of reach. ‘I’ll find everything, you stay here and have a nice chat! All part of the service!’
I have yet to find service in any shop, anywhere, where someone at least twice your age helps themselves to your shopping list and then goes to get everything on it for you like some kind of personal shopper extraordinaire, and I suspect that Madge has agreed to take one for the team in this co-ordinated effort in gossip hunting.
Madge prises the shopping basket from my hand with a steely grip, and my best effort to hold on to it is no match for her unyielding determination.
Lettie comes closer. ‘Either you’re baking in that tiny thing, or you’ve gained access to the pub kitchen.’
‘Noooo, of course not.’ I overcompensate with a handwave because there’s no way I’m telling them anything about the pub’s kitchen or how it looks now. ‘I’m testing out the van’s capabilities.’
The look on Wilma’s face makes me wish I hadn’t said that. I shouldn’t make it obvious that I don’t already knowmyvan’s capabilities.
‘Lemon meringue pie, by the looks of it,’ Madge calls, unseen from halfway down an aisle.
Lettie and Wilma make a simultaneous noise of curiosity. ‘That’s not the sort of thing you make for yourself, is it? A bit elaborate for just one person…’
‘It’s an old family recipe.’ I try not to give anything away. ‘I wanted the challenge in such a small space.’
‘Of course, Dolly dear.’ Lettie’s tone says she doesn’t believe a word of it. ‘Nothing to do with that nice young man who’s been helping yousettle in, I’m sure.’
Wilma’s eyebrows rise like ‘settle in’ is a metaphor for something unthinkably lewd, and Lettie edges even closer until she can look into my eyes. ‘Has he told you anything yet?’
‘Who? Reece?’ I play innocent, like I have no idea who this ‘nice young man’ they’re referring to is. ‘No, nothing. Was he supposed to?’
‘You’re in a unique position,’ Madge calls. She’s made it to the eggs now and is examining every box to make sure they’re all in perfect condition. ‘You’re not from around here, you’re his age, and you have no vested interest in Thimblenouth. If he’s going to open up to anyone, it’ll be you.’
‘You’re our inside eyes and ears.’ Lettie sounds hopeful. ‘You can get pertinent information and report back…’
‘You will tell us if you find anything out, won’t you?’ Wilma adjusts her glasses and purses her lips. ‘About his plans or who this mysterious man in charge is. We’d like a name and address to send a strongly worded letter to.’
‘Of course I will,’ I lie. ‘My money’s still on Jake Gyllenhaal.’
‘Ooh, I’d love him to run it as a pub,’ Madge says, staring into the refrigerated shelves to choose butter like her mind has gone back to that naked sculpture, and I can’t help laughing, even though I doubt Jake Gyllenhaal has much interest in pub management.
‘So much is missing from the village since the Kingfisher Arms has been gone.’ She chooses a suitable butter, and moves on to sugar and flour.
‘But that isn’t Reece’s doing, is it? He said it had been empty for years before his boss bought it. It was Mrs Patchett who told you it would continue to be a pub – not something that came from the buyer’s side.’
Wilma and Lettie exchange a look. They knowtheydidn’t tell me that, and they know who I must’ve got the info from.
‘Our quiz nights were legendary.’ Madge is choosing wine for me now, even though it wasn’t on the list. Hopefully she’s not about to show me her scar. ‘Lettie started filming them years ago, just for fun at first, but word got round. We had people coming from all over to participate. We were even on the local news once! We had 225 followers on YouTube, you know.’
Bless her. Having 225 followers hardly makes for influencer status, does it?
‘We could’ve gone viral on that website about the broken clocks that my grandchildren are always talking about. Tock Tock or whatever it is.’
‘Best night of the week, that was.’ Even Wilma sounds wistful. ‘The atmosphere, the competition, the way your Arthur used to cheat outrageously…’
‘He never did!’ Madge brandishes a bottle of wine in Wilma’s direction, defending presumably her husband.
‘Your Reece doesn’t realise what he’s destroyed.’ Lettie shakes her head, and I should probably insist that he’s notmyanything, but my brain catches on the thought, and she’s carried on before I’ve had a chance to object to it. ‘Though I suppose he’s only following orders from whoever’s really behind it all.’
