‘I can’t accept this,’ Reece says again, sounding even more bewildered than he did just now.
Madge has joined me in the van and shoves herself in beside me so we can both look out of the serving hatch. She elbows me in the ribs, although I’m not sure whether it’s to get my attention or to get more space. ‘See? We told you that Yorkshire folk take care of their own.’
While all the new arrivals find seats at the tables, the bloke from the post office goes up to the pub to collect more chairs and Wilma starts taking notes of what everyone wants to order, and Madge stays put, her sharp elbows pushing me to do the same. Or trying to break a rib, one of the two.
Instead of sitting down at their rival table, her husband Arthur goes over to speak to Reece now too. ‘Back in the day, I was an electrician, lad. I’m retired now and haven’t still got my certification, but I’d be more than happy to do the job, and then you’d have to hire an inspector to certify my work. Miles cheaper than hiring a working electrician, and it would do me good too – my wife’s always telling me I need to get off my backside and get out more!’
Madge takes a bow in the serving hatch window, and the quiz attendees all clap for her. ‘And he works for nothing except tea and biscuits – not too many biscuits, mind!’
‘No, no, no.’ Reece is pacing, looking dazed. ‘I can’t accept any of this. You’re all being far too kind, but?—’
‘But what?’ Wilma demands, sounding so scary that even the bravest soul wouldn’t dare to contradict her.
Reece looks over at me helplessly, and I give him an encouraging nod back. I knew they had something up their sleeves, but I didn’t think it would be anything like this, and I’m barely managing to hold back tears either.
Reece’s voice is shaking when he speaks. ‘But I’ve lied to you all. I’ve pretended to be someone else. I’m not a builder. I’m not working for a mysterious boss…’
‘Could’ve been Jake Gyllenhaal,’ Madge mutters beside me. It really will take her a long time to get over her disappointment on this one.
There’s silence for a moment. His face has gone pale and I can see him preparing for the worst. Anger, accusations and for the community he’s grown to love turning against him.
Instead, what happens is a round of applause. Lettie repeats what they explained to me yesterday, about knowing from the start and how recent events have forced their hand in revealing all rather than waiting for him to tell them himself.
Reece stares at Lettie in shock. ‘You’re not angry?’
‘Dear boy, why would we be angry? You’ve given us back our quiz nights, and you’ve been working yourself to death trying to fix up our pub. The only thing I’m slightly miffed about is that you felt like you couldn’t confide in us.’
‘But I closed the pub. I bought it and?—’
‘You bought a building that was already in disrepair,’ the local vicar corrects. ‘After her husband passed, Mrs Patchett hadn’t maintained it properly for years. It was going to close anyway – you tried to save it.’
‘And you’ve been trying to fix it single-handedly ever since,’ Wilma chimes in. ‘Which, frankly, shows more dedication than sense. It’s a good effort, but you don’t have to do everything alone.’
A man I recognise as a café regular with a fondness for my lemon drizzle cake is next to step up. ‘Lad, can you nip up on the scaffolding and take some photos of the roof? My son-in-law’s a roofer and he owes me a favour. Said he’d be delighted to do the job but he needs to know what it entails before he brings his team in. He’d charge you for materials only, no labour costs.’
‘Oh, God, no,’ Reece says. ‘That’s a job that’ll costthousands. Believe me, I’ve had the quotes. He couldn’t possibly?—’
‘Well, no one said materials will be cheap, but it’ll be a hell of a lot cheaper than your quotes.’
‘I can’t acce?—’
‘You can and you bloody well will!’ Wilma instructs and then turns back to the tables. ‘Now, who said something about plumbing?’
‘I dabbled!’ a man I recognise calls out. He regularly walks an Irish setter and has stopped for a chat after his dog has come for a sniff around the van. ‘I’m retiring next month, but it’ll do me good to keep my hand in. Be happy to take a look at your pipes and whatnot. The only charge will be a nice hefty slice of whatever the Marzipan Campervan is serving that day!’
‘Done!’ I give him a salute out the window.
Reece looks around at the crowd of faces, all smiling at him with warmth and acceptance, and I can see him fighting an internal battle to keep his emotions in check. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you’d be furious with me.’
‘The two of you have brought our community together,’ Wilma says. ‘Something was missing from Thimblenouth. Somewhere to come together, to sit and watch the world go by and enjoy the simple things like watching the river with a nice piece of cake and a lovely cup of tea. And you’re the best quiz master we’ve ever had. We’re just trying to ensure you don’t leave us anytime soon.’
Another round of applause goes up, and I can see Reece losing the battle with not welling up in public.
‘There are tourism grants and community funding you can look into too. Now we know you want to re-open it as a pub, you might qualify for help that a private house wouldn’t have,’ the vicar says.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Reece looks like he’s expecting to wake up at any second.
‘You don’t need to say anything. This isn’t just about you any more, is it? It’s about all of us. This place, these quiz nights, this wonderful café – it’s become the heart of our village. So say you’ll start the quiz and don’t go taking any photos of the bloody roof until daytime!’
