Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Jack sat down next to Devon. The marquee was warm, as if the heat had gathered there all day and hadn’t had a chance to escape.
He’d been here at eleven this morning setting up chairs, wheeling in beer barrels and carrying in box after box of plastic glasses.
This was the first event of the Wilsgrave summer season and after tonight the marquee would be in regular use.
In a couple of weeks, the flower show and summer fete took place, followed, a few weeks later, by the annual summer ball which was the culmination of the summer’s events.
After that, things quietened down while everyone was on holiday and then the harvest festival started, with the build-up to the October Halloween events and Bonfire Night.
No wonder his mother was so trim. She never stopped, constantly on the go, bullying the parish council into giving her permission to take over the green for yet another good cause, persuading local businesses to donate goods for raffles, and rounding up volunteers for the latest event.
He took a swig of his beer, wishing he’d ordered an ice-cold lager at the bar instead of the lukewarm ale, and put it down by his feet on the matting covering the grass.
There was no reason for him to feel nervous, but he did.
What if Bets dried up on stage? What if no one laughed at her jokes? What if she humiliated herself?
His hands cramped in tight fists on his knees.
He hoped she was going to be all right. What had made her decide to do this?
It wasn’t as if she’d ever shown any interest in performing, and certainly not stand-up, which had to be a tough gig to start with.
She’d definitely dived in head-first, which, to be fair, was a Bets type of thing to do.
He smiled to himself. She’d always been spontaneous.
Had it been a spur of the moment decision?
More interestingly, why hadn’t she told anyone about it?
Bets wasn’t one to keep secrets. Not that she couldn’t but she was naturally open and chatty.
Part of him admired that she’d been able to keep it so quiet, especially round here, and another part of him felt shitty that he had forgone the right to be the someone she would have confided in.
It hurt a lot, especially because he’d brought it upon himself and he had no one but himself to blame.
Another kick-in-the-gut reminder of how big a mistake he’d made.
‘Have you any idea what to expect?’ whispered Devon.
‘No.’ His fingers clenched a bit tighter. ‘What about you, Ella?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m as much in the dark as you guys. She hasn’t told me anything.’ Some of Jack’s tension eased. Ella and Bets were close. It made him feel marginally better.
‘The first I knew,’ she continued, ‘was from Devon. How she kept it quiet in this place, I do not know.’ Ella glanced around the room with a rueful smile.
‘But when I asked her about it … she changed the subject so fast it was like I’d touched a raw nerve.
So I didn’t dare ask again. I sort of assumed she was regretting signing up and didn’t want to talk about it. ’
Jack nodded and settled back in his seat.
Or, he thought, remembering that shattering conversation in the kitchen, she didn’t want to share it with anyone. She wanted to keep it for herself. It made sense.
He crossed his legs, picked up his beer and focused on it and the seat in front of him, which Doris had bagged at lunchtime by leaving her yellow cardigan and a hideous tote bag of such a virulent shade of green that no one in their right mind would steal it.
The whole village would be rooting for Bets.
They wouldn’t let her fail. He tried to relax but his foot was jogging up and down.
‘What’s the matter with you? Got ants in your pants or something?’ asked Devon.
‘No,’ he replied airily.
Devon’s eyebrows rose in a sceptical arch.
Jack was just starting to feel at ease when Ella waved to someone. When he turned to look, his heart sank. Was he the very secret reason Bets had disappeared off to London the other day?
‘Hi, Jamie,’ Ella greeted the other man.
‘Hi. How are you?’
‘I’m great, especially as your aunt has sold five of my pictures. Five!’ Her face glowed with pleasure.
‘She’s good at what she does … seeking out talent.’
Ella blushed.
Creep. Jack glared at the man’s back.
‘Is Margery with you?’
‘No, stand-up is not her thing.’ He lowered his voice and leaned forward, ‘Nor apparently is sitting in a stuffy tent with sub-standard wine and the dull old birds from the WI chuntering on.’
Ella’s laughter pealed out. ‘Don’t let Devon’s mother hear you say that.’
‘I’m pretty sure my aunt has probably already told her.’
‘Yes, she doesn’t suffer fools, does she.’
Jamie snorted. ‘You could say that. Some might say she’s bloody rude.’
‘I think when you get to that age you’re allowed to be as rude as you like.’
‘Sadly, I think my aunt would probably agree with you, but it can get a tad embarrassing.’
‘Do you want to sit with us?’ invited Ella.
He looked at the proximity of the chair to the stage and hesitated. ‘I don’t know, I don’t want to put Bets off. I think I might sit further back if you don’t mind.’
Jack felt a nip of jealousy, his stomach hollowing out as if he hadn’t eaten for a few days, the beer in his gut souring. Immediately, he felt inadequate for not even thinking that snagging prime seats right on the front row might put Bets off.
He slumped in his seat. It was too late to move now, but maybe he could make himself less visible.
The marquee had really filled up, but that was no surprise.
The comedy festival, established several years before, had grown year on year, increasingly drawing people from an ever-widening catchment.
It was also very popular with the comedians and attracted plenty of big names, who often used the event as a warm-up for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August.
Tonight’s official opening traditionally showcased the cohort of brand-new comedians trained locally.
He couldn’t quite get over the irony. This time last year, he’d sat here with Bets, a night out that they’d spent regularly for the last few years, and he remembered the chafe of the sameness of it all.
And now everything was completely different. He’d come full circle to appreciate knowing who you were and where you fitted in. Whereas Bets was the one shaking things up and doing things differently.
The audience quietened and Arthur Smith appeared on stage to introduce the six ‘newbies’ and officially open the comedy festival.
The first guy erupted onto the stage with nervous energy and starting firing sentences and questions at the audience.
He was obviously nervous and desperate to please.
It was uncomfortable viewing at first but then, garnering his first laugh, he paused, took stock and slowed down.
Jack warmed to him, finding his self-deprecating, world-weary humour funny.
When he finished, a woman in the middle several rows back burst into noisy tears and yelled, ‘I love you, Frank.’ He blew kisses before leaving the stage.
Arthur returned and entertained them for a minute or two with some of his deadpan observations before he introduced the next act.
‘All the way from sunny Wilsgrave, I give you … Bets Fowler.’
Jack strained in his seat, his heart thudding like a jackhammer and watched as she bounced onto the stage, looking … nothing like herself. His heart missed a beat.
In dark, figure-hugging jeans, with a pure white shirt that hinted at the cleavage he knew swelled beneath it, and those sexy, sexy boots, she looked like someone else.
The scarf in her hair was the only reminder of the quirky, upbeat Bets that he knew.
Even as she strode across the black raised floor, she exuded confidence that was almost cocky, as if she were on the way to break up a brawl with her bare hands. No one was messing with Bets tonight.
As soon as she started speaking, in a low, confident drawl, her eyes roving over the audience, meeting people’s gazes head-on, he knew that he was seeing a different side to her.
Biddable, easygoing, help-anyone-out Bets was gone and in her place was a bolshy, single-minded, suit-herself character who spoke her mind and told people how it was.
And he fell in love with her all over again. Not this bolshy Bets but the one that he’d neglected and not let grow. The one that he’d kept out of his life and at a distance because he had bigger and better things to do. How wrong he’d been.
As her act continued, his admiration for her grew. She was the one that had moved on and changed, left him behind in the dust.
By the end of her act his heart was bursting with pride.
He’d been an idiot to let her go. He loved her, but now he wasn’t sure he deserved her.
Despite that and the regret hollowing his stomach, he clapped so hard his hands became sore.
She glanced down and caught his eye. He gave her a big grin and a thumbs-up. ‘You smashed it,’ he mouthed.
Her face softened for a second and they exchanged a private smile, her lips curving softly and her eyes sparkling down at him.
‘Thank you,’ she said and the joy in her face and the tender expression in her eyes hit him right in the solar plexus.
He was a bare second from telling her he loved her but a lightning bolt of realisation made him stop.
This was her moment. Her triumph alone. It would be a dickish move to make it about them when this was all about her.
Instead he gave her a double thumbs-up and ignored the fierce ache in his heart.
Tomorrow, he would tell her that he understood what she’d said to him after they’d slept together, and that he wanted to try again.
This time as equals, both looking for their ‘more’, side by side, bending and flexing in tandem to support each other.
It meant that he knew exactly what his response would be to the unexpected job offer that had turned up in his inbox.
Another time, he would have grasped the opportunity without a second thought.
Now he had other things to think about. The smile on his face broadened as hope bloomed.
Then her gaze skipped over him to the middle of the room and her smile brightened again. He didn’t need to turn around to know who that smile was for. But he didn’t care. It was time to fight for Bets and show her that things would be different this time.