“You’ll look marvellous, dear, I’m sure of it. And it’s not so much a runway as a piece of spare lino we convinced the manager of the flooring shop over in the retail park to donate for free. We don’t have the budget for anything fancier than that. So don’t worry about what you’ll look like, because I know you’ll look wonderful.”
“What exactly will I be wearing?” Carole asked, already gathering up the gardening tools so she could return them to the shed.
Before Olive could answer, Tom’s front door opened and Tom himself appeared, jogging up his front path. When he saw Carole talking to Olive over the front fence, he came to a halt.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “I was, er, just fetching something from my car?—”
“Tom, you couldn’t have appeared at a better moment!” Olive said. “Are you busy right now?”
“Uh, well…” His gaze flicked between the two women. “Why do you ask?”
Carole almost felt sorry for him, knowing what was coming next.
“Well, I was just explaining to Carole that we’ve got quite a pickle to deal with at today’s Hamblehurst History Museum summer fair. Some of the volunteers who were supposed to be taking part in our vintage fashion show have pulled out at the last minute, and I’m in charge of finding replacements. Carole here has very generously agreed to step into the breach. Tom, would you be willing to do the same and be one of our fashion show models?”
Carole watched his eyes widen in stunned surprise at the request, and she couldn’t hide her grin at his astonished reaction.
“You want me to…be in a fashion show?”
“There’s nothing to it, and you’ll be done in twenty minutes, I promise,” Olive insisted. “We’ll get you into one of our vintage costumes, get you to walk the runway, and then it will all be over. You will be doing me such a huge favour if you agree to help, Tom.”
Tom’s gaze flicked from Olive to Carole and back to Olive again. “Uh, well… are you sure there’s no one else who could help? I don’t know anything about fashion.”
“If you agree to help, you’ll fill the last vacant spot in our modelling line up and will save me having to rush around tryingto scare up one last volunteer,” Olive said. “And I assure you, you don’t need to know anything about fashion. You’ll just put on the costume we’ve prepared, walk up and down the runway, enjoy the applause from the spectators, and then it will all be over.”
Tom’s gaze shifted to Carole, seeking guidance or encouragement, she wasn’t sure which.
“I’ve already agreed to help out,” Carole said. “If you agree too, we can give each other a bit of mutual support and encouragement.”
He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Okay, sure. Olive, I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, but I should warn you that I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“No one who’s taking part has ever done anything like this before,” Olive said. “We’ve all bitten off more than we can chew at the historical society, as usual, but I’m sure it’s going to be terrific fun, assuming we can pull it off. Now, let’s get over there. We don’t have a moment to spare!”
Carole tossed her gardening tools into the hallway, realising there wasn’t time to return them to the shed, and grabbed her phone and house keys. When she met Olive out on the pavement, Tom was locking his door and hurrying to join them.
As Olive set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the market square where the history museum was located, Carole and Tom fell into step alongside her. The older lady was already describing the format of the vintage fashion show, the emcee in charge of running the event, the costumes that were waiting for the models inside the history museum, and the changing areas they’d sectioned off to ensure privacy.
As Olive chattered away, Carole caught Tom’s eye and gave him an amused smile. He returned it with a resigned shoulder shrug, but she could see the twinkle in his eye and was glad he was able to appreciate the humour in this ludicrous situation they’d been roped into.
Olive’s phone rang and she pulled it from her shoulder bag and squinted over the top of her glasses at the screen.
“It’s one of the other committee members from the museum, no doubt calling to find out what progress I’ve made,” Olive said to Carole and Tom. “I’d better answer it, but let’s keep our pace up while we walk over to there. We’re already cutting it very fine indeed!”
Olive stabbed at the screen to answer the call, still marching ahead of Carole and Tom as she began chattering into the phone.
“Bet you wish you’d never stepped out of your house,” Carole said quietly to Tom, and laughed.
“Well, I’ve been conscripted now so I’d better just make the most of it,” he replied, his smile looking more baffled than ever. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I hope I don’t trip up over my own feet and end up looking like a prat.”
“You’ll be fine. So will I, well I hope so anyway. And I just hope these vintage costumes they want us to wear aren’t too daft. I mean, what if I end up having to walk the runway in a pair of hideous bellbottoms and platform shoes?”
“You’d look just fine if you did. On the other hand, if they putmein a pair of bellbottoms, then I’ll feel truly sorry for the spectators who’d have to see it.”
Carole laughed. She’d missed talking with Tom like this over the past week during her self-enforced no-contact. His easy conversation and relaxed humour were comforting and comfortable. Part of her wondered at how easy it was to fall back into their daft banter, despite last weekend’s stupid kiss.
“So, how was your week?” Tom asked. “Busy at work?”
“Yeah, super busy. Non-stop. Run off my feet.” Now she was waffling. “I had a lot of clinics and therapy sessions happening last week and it was hectic, but it’s good to see the new ideas I have for mental health support services starting to bear some fruit and deliver positive outcomes for our patients.”
