Chapter Seven
The One Where the Crocodile Rocks
The busy weekend left Kate little time to reflect on her impulsive offer to take over the organisation of the summer festival – or Summy-Fessy, as Mollie claimed her fellow schoolmates had dubbed it.
On Monday, however, she had a window of time after lunch and she settled at the desk determined to get to grips with rescuing what she could. A swift examination of the festival’s website gave her an idea of the previous year’s programme, including the venues and what Leigh had been charging for entry.
Kate sat back in her seat, her gaze drifting out of the window to the beautiful hotel gardens. There were touches of green on the bare branches of the trees and a bank of bright yellow forsythia hedging had come into bloom along one side of the terrace.
It was no surprise Leigh had been driven to charge. If her husband was the sole sponsor – and it seemed from the website he was – and she’d had to pay all the out of towners to participate…
Kate knew from experience the costs involved in booking speakers, panellists and performers from her old job. There weren’t just attendance fees, but also travel and accommodation expenses to cover, along with venue hire, any necessary licences and support equipment like tents, furnishings, temporary loos, and so on. The list, as she well recalled, was endless.
‘And yet…’ Kate mused as she got up and walked over to stare out of the window. ‘This isn’t what it’s meant to be about.’
A quick trawl of festival websites in the south-west had, in general, supported Phoenix’s view: many of these events had become a big draw for successful writers, journalists, artists and performers, none of whom were local to the West Country, and included some very big names in their field. No wonder the costs of Polkerran Point’s Arts, Music & Literature Festival had spiralled.
Anna had explained that Leigh – when the Devonshires returned to the cove a few years ago – had pretty much joined, and in some cases taken over, most of the clubs, societies and groups in the village. A hugely successful businesswoman, she clearly couldn’t switch off in her private life.
Kate had also received a brief email from Dev, acknowledging her involvement and offering the contact details he had access to. Returning to her desk, Kate pulled up the Notes app on her phone for the email address she’d also found on the website.
‘Right,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
The responses to Kate’s emails weren’t encouraging, and she tried to work out why the reticence in sharing information from those alleged to have been the ‘committee’.
In the end, Kate urged them into agreeing a date and time all four of them could meet at the hotel. She’d emailed Dev to see if he wanted to join them, but was relieved when he said he was in London that week.
Kate reflected on Ryther briefly, hoping it wasn’t his health causing a concern and that visiting his son was the reason. She’d really liked the elderly gentleman and hoped they’d meet again one day.
Then, her gaze dropped to the names of those who’d been Leigh’s inner cohort on last year’s all new, allegedly ‘bigger and better’ festival. She’d run them past Anna but her friend hadn’t recognised them, merely saying Leigh wasn’t a respecter of keeping things local.
A half hour into the meeting, thoroughly frustrated but trying to keep a smile firmly in place, Kate looked from one to the other of the three people who’d actually turned up – one of them, whoever she was, worked in Plymouth and couldn’t get time off at the last minute.
‘So, just to recap…’ Kate glanced at the blank page before her.
Shouldn’t take long…
‘The website says this year’s dates are in June, but as of now, there are no artists booked, no venues confirmed and therefore no deposits paid to secure anything?’
‘Don’t you go blaming us,’ the lady to her right bristled, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Leigh always did that side of things.’
‘’S’right. We just did as we were told.’
Kate sent a genuine smile towards the older lady to her left. She had been the more engaged of the three but had absolutely nothing to offer other than constantly repeating how lovely the festival was and how the authors from London had been over the moon about sales of their books after they’d done a panel.
‘I promise I’m not casting blame.’ Kate sent what she hoped was an encouraging look at them. ‘I’m just trying to establish facts. The first thing we’ll need to do is move the date. It’s too late to make June work.’
Three indignant pairs of eyes swivelled in her direction.
‘But it’s always been in June!’ The third member of Leigh’s committee was of indeterminate age, with large eyes behind equally large glasses and wearing a sweatshirt bearing the words ‘hedgehogs are just prickly people’, and she stared eagerly around the table as though garnering support.
Two heads nodded, but Kate sent the woman a puzzled look. ‘You’ve only done it once.’
‘She’s about right, then.’ They all nodded.
‘There isn’t enough time to organise things,’ Kate protested. ‘If you want a festival this year, it has to be towards the end of the season. I suggest we make it a two-day event on the August Bank Holiday weekend. We’ll catch the last of the summer visitors, too.’
There was a general muttering, and Kate released a soft sigh.
‘Okay, so what about volunteers?’ Three pairs of eyes looked at each other blankly, then at Kate. ‘On the day? We’ll need marshalls for managing the traffic and car park, selling programmes, and so on, and we’ll need first aiders too.’
‘Leigh had them for looking after guests, as well. Inundated with help, she was, once the big names were involved.’
Thank goodness.
‘So, who did it last year?’
Kate dropped her pen on the pad, trying to catch eyes that clearly did not wish to be caught.
Eventually, the older lady looked up. ‘People came from all over. Couldn’t wait to sign up, keen to get selfies with the celebs, they were. And Leigh was part of the am-dram scene in Port Wenneth. She roped in all the club members in exchange for using her contacts to help promote their latest production.’
‘Excellent. Who should I approach about it?’
There was silence, then: ‘Well, since Leigh left, the club disbanded. She set it up and ran it, see?’
After the committee left, each of them tasked with getting some information to Kate by the end of the week, she picked up her bag and headed outside. Thankfully, it was time to go home, and fresh air was needed, but once back at The Lookout, she settled at the kitchen island and picked up her phone.
An hour later, when Mollie came in, having been at an after-school club, Kate put the phone aside with relief.
‘I thought we could go out for tea tonight. Where d’you fancy?’
Mollie gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I wish there was a Maccie D’s nearby.’
Kate laughed as they headed up the stairs.
‘Well, there isn’t. Go and get changed and we’ll walk down to the Lugger. They do a very nice burger, and that will have to do.’
Half an hour later, Mollie was tucking into her meal with relish, regaling Kate with plans at the school for a trip to Cotehele. An avid reader, Mollie was fascinated with history, especially the Tudor period.
‘And there’s going to be a performance of Six in Truro too.’
Recalling the brilliant musical they’d seen in London the previous year, Kate smiled. ‘You and your six wives. You’re more obsessed than Henry was.’
Kate didn’t have room for a pudding, but when Mollie went over to browse the dessert menu, she reflected on the rest of the evening stretching before her.
You’re lonely…
Determinedly quashing the persistent notion, Kate was thankful when Mollie resumed her seat, taking a slug of Dr Pepper. ‘I’ve ordered.’
‘What would you like to do when we get back?’
‘Can we play Hogwarts Legacy?’
Lauren and Daniel’s snug was perfectly set up for gaming, with a massive screen on the wall and the most up-to-date controllers.
‘On one condition.’ Mollie raised a brow, and Kate grinned.
‘You clear out some of your gear and sell it to some of the shopkeepers first.’
‘Muuum. It’s no fun if you make it like real life!’
By the following weekend, Kate hadn’t heard back from any of the committee or received any response to her follow-up emails and voicemails.
Her hopes of moving the date hadn’t reaped any benefits yet, either. Finding venues for the Bank Holiday weekend was, unsurprisingly, impossible.
The village hall was booked out all weekend. The back room at the Lugger became overspill dining in peak season, and the upstairs room at the Three Fishes wasn’t easily accessible.
The bistro’s private dining room was also too busy to cede space that weekend, and the new restaurant on the quay, though keen to be supportive, was entirely open plan.
Even the Point Hotel couldn’t help. They did, however, offer some spare bunting for decorating the harbour front, along with several strings of outdoor lights.
On the Tuesday morning, as soon as Mollie left for school, Kate headed over to Truro to do some long overdue shopping, which not only included buying a nice mid-season coat, a sturdier pair of walk books and a gorgeous, soft throw for one of the sofas, but also a couple of niche purchases in one of the charity shops.
A thoughtful expression settled on Kate’s features as she waited to pay for her finds, studying the leaflets by the till, and she pocketed one as an idea began to form.
Back home, she tucked into a sandwich from M&S with a coffee at the kitchen island and fired up her laptop, intent on ticking off more of her to-do list, but barely had she opened her email account when the doorbell buzzed.
‘Oh, hello. Do come in.’
‘I do hope I’m not intruding? I called the hotel, but they said you had a day off and as I was passing…’
Kate eyed Mrs Tremayne warily as she stepped into the house. Passing? The only things that went by The Lookout were tractors, cyclists or walkers, taking the no-through lane to the fields or cliff path respectively. As the lady was dressed in a smart trouser-suit, glossy shoes and carried a designer tote, she was immediately on her guard.
‘Would you like coffee?’ Kate led the way into the kitchen part of the vast, open-plan living area.
‘Yes, please. Flat white.’ The lady stared around with avid interest. ‘My nephew, Daniel, had this house built.’
‘It’s beautiful. I feel blessed to be able to live here.’
Kate set the machine in motion, regretting her own cooling coffee, and leaned against the counter.
‘Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?’
‘Let’s wait until I have coffee, shall we?’
Kate turned back to the machine, giving the coffee a vigorous and totally unnecessary stir. She wouldn’t be opening the biscuit tin.
‘I believe you are attempting to put some life back into the ailing summer arts festival.’
It wasn’t a question, so Kate decided not to favour it with an answer.
Mrs Tremayne took her time, taking a drink from her mug, then holding it up to study the pattern. ‘It never tastes quite the same, does it, unless it’s in a fine china cup?’
Kate sent the extremely high-end coffee machine an apologetic look. ‘I prefer mugs.’
‘Hmm. Well. It’s to be expected. Now, I also believe you are working full time at the hotel.’
Unsure where this was going, Kate waited.
‘And I believe you have a young daughter to care for.’
Now Kate was getting annoyed. ‘You believe a great deal, Mrs Tremayne, but I’m still none the wiser as to the purpose of your visit.’
The lady placed her mug on the island, releasing a girlish giggle totally unsuited to her appearance.
‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to help you. Leigh Devonshire,’ Mrs Tremayne sniffed, ‘would accept no assistance, despite my best endeavours. How can an incomer know what’s best for the village?’
Quashing the urge to say the Tremaynes had hardly been good for the local community in recent years, Kate summoned a smile.
‘That would be fantastic. Is there anything in particular you’d like to take on?’
‘As I am such a local influencer, I’d be willing to introduce you to my connections. They may be instrumental in taking out advertising in the programme. I offered to do as much for Leigh, but she did not endear herself to people, you understand? Insisted on doing everything herself. You’ll be too busy for that.’
Kate understood very well. She was being told, in no uncertain terms, that it would be gracious to accept the offer from the self-styled lady of the manor, though how that worked now, with the reins handed over to the absent Alex, she wasn’t sure.
Still, there was no denying she needed all the help she could get, so she shook the lady’s hand. As she closed the door on her back, however, Kate couldn’t help but feel she was dancing with the devil.
During her lunch break the next day, Kate nipped down into the village, pushing open the door to the bookshop and stationers – Pen & Ink – and enjoying the tinkling of the old-fashioned bell.
‘Morning,’ she greeted the young woman behind the counter, before turning to browse the trolley of second-hand books under one of the windows. She soon found a Philippa Gregory Mollie hadn’t read and tucked it under her arm as she flicked through the nearby stand displaying various greetings cards.
Five minutes later, with a selection of cards and the latest Marian Keyes novel added to the growing pile on the counter by the till, Kate recalled her purpose in visiting and headed to the small but well-stocked children’s section.
She had her head tilted to one side, studying the spines as she sought the book Nicki had asked for, when the doorbell jingled again.
‘There you are!’ she exclaimed quietly, extracting the latest in the Kid Normal series by Greg James and Chris Smith but as she straightened, she came face to face with Dev.
‘Oh, hi.’
He shuffled from foot to foot.
‘Hi.’
As that appeared to be that, Kate made to move past him, but he gestured at the book in her hand.
‘Isn’t that a little young for your daughter?’
Kate studied the cover momentarily, then met his surprisingly intent gaze. ‘You’d be surprised at her reading habits. But this is for Nicki’s youngest, Jason. He’s a big fan. As for me,’ she sent him an impish smile, ‘I’m here to find books on protecting the environment.’
She moved past Dev into the main part of the shop, uncertain why she felt flustered, and added the book to the pile.
‘Nearly done,’ she said to the assistant, who grinned.
‘No rush. We love bulk shoppers.’
Wondering if perhaps she’d been a bit cheeky to Dev – after all, they barely knew each other – Kate continued her browsing, her senses on high alert and perfectly aware of his presence on the other side of the bookshelves.
Until, that is, he appeared at her side, hand extended.
‘Is this yours?’
He held up a leather fob sporting a chrome crocodile.
Kate’s brow furrowed as she studied the tag lying on his palm, and she glanced at her Lacoste tote, then picked up the offering.
‘Gosh, thanks. I didn’t realise it had fallen off.’ Unceremoniously, Kate stuffed it into her pocket. ‘Probably improves the bag anyway.’
She looked up with a smile, but the upward curve of her lips slowly halted. Why was he looking at her like that, as though she was some sort of mystery to him? Had she got lipstick on her teeth, or a smudge under her eyes?
As surreptitiously as she could, considering Dev’s continued scrutiny, she ran her tongue across her teeth. The panda-eyes would have to stay. He seemed a fan of the environment, perhaps he liked the look?
‘I wanted to say…’ He stopped, bit his lip, gave his head a brief shake. ‘Right. Okay.’
He moved past Kate to the counter, handing over a couple of children’s books and a jigsaw, and reluctant to follow, she moved behind the nearest bookcase until the bell indicated he’d left the shop.
Paying for her purchases, Kate stepped outside, glancing left and right, but there was no sign of Dev’s tall figure, and she retraced her steps back to the hotel deep in thought.