Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
CATH
C ath snuggled back into the cushions and let out a happy sigh. It had been another exhausting morning at the museum – and she’d spent it working outwards from the glass cabinet holding the various bits of tennis paraphernalia. After emptying about a dozen boxes—most of which had ended up in the “to be recycled” pile, Cath had decided to slink back to the flat for a spot of lunch.
She might not know Oli very well yet, but Cath could hug the man for leaving behind his beautiful patchwork sofa when he’d moved out. She could see it was going to quickly become her happy place.
After visiting Geraldine in the antiques shop the previous day, Cath hadn’t been able to face heading back to the museum again. The news that her job might be temporary had thrown her for a loop, and even though she’d momentarily distracted herself with the mystery of the “missing” Anthony Cheswell cup, finding it in the shop window next door had solved that particular puzzle a little bit too quickly. Besides, after her little chat with Geraldine, Cath’s mind had been racing with new possibilities. She’d wanted to give them space to grow, rather than losing them under the piles of rubbish still waiting to be sorted.
Instead, she’d decided to spend some time unpacking at the flat. Making the place more comfortable and homey might have looked counterintuitive to anyone else—given the chance she might have to move out again sooner than expected—but to Cath, it had felt a bit like a defiant act of rebellion. This was her home now, and she was going to make the most of it… even if she didn’t get to stay for very long.
All the unpacking and dragging around of furniture to find the perfect spots also meant that the rest of the day had disappeared. When she’d fallen into bed, she’d slept the sleep of the dead.
Still, all the hard work had been worth it. When she’d dragged herself blearily out of bed that morning, it had been heavenly to find herself in a flat that was no longer packed from floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. The kitchen was sparkling clean and stocked with her favourite cookware, dining sets and cutlery. Plus, her beautiful rainbow mugs were sitting on the counter, ready for her morning cuppa.
In the sitting room, the bookshelves were crammed with her own novels and knickknacks, and her multicoloured rag rug was looking right at home in front of the patchwork sofa.
It had all given Cath the boost she’d needed to face the new day with a smile on her face again, and what was more, the seed of the idea that had germinated the previous day had done some serious growing while she’d occupied her mind elsewhere.
Cath was now determined to find a way to make sure that she turned things around at the museum. It should be right at the heart of the community, not a tatty dumping ground everyone pretended didn’t exist. To do that, she needed to buy herself more time there… and stop it from falling down while she pulled it all together. To do that, she was going to need an injection of cash.
Her search through the boxes that morning had been far more focused than the previous couple of days. She was looking for more clues that would help her build on her new idea.
‘Question is, am I going to find anything useful in here?’ she yawned, settling a heavy photo album in her lap. She’d slipped it into her bag to look through while she was eating her lunch after discovering it at the bottom of a disintegrating box not far from the tennis cabinet. It had been hiding under a layer of yet more empty jam jars, and she’d come very close to dumping the whole lot onto the recycling pile without even checking through it.
Lesson learned!
‘Oh wow!’ she gasped as she flipped it open to a random page full of sepia photographs of people wearing tennis whites. They were action shots of a match in progress.
Shifting to put her mug of tea down on the nearby coffee table so that she had both hands free to peruse the album, Cath quickly flipped back to the front and let her fingers trace the lettering there. A fine, flowing calligraphy script read:
Sir Anthony Cheswell Cup
Turning the pages carefully, Cath’s eyes flicked from one photograph to the next. There were lots of smiles and fancy hats. The players all wore pristine whites and wielded quaint, wooden rackets. It looked like a terrific event if the hundreds of happy faces in the crowd were anything to go by.
The next page showed off shots of picnic tables – laden with bowl after bowl of gleaming strawberries and what looked like pitchers of thick cream, though it was hard to tell in monochrome!
Cath sped up, flipping through the pages, and watching as colour crept into the photographs. The hairstyles and hemlines of the crowd might be changing, but the strawberries, smiles and sunshine remained the same right until the last page… as did the plentiful supply of champers served in beautiful vintage glassware.
As though her body was stealing the frozen bubbles from the photographs, Cath felt a curious tingle creeping up her legs from her toes. It was a similar feeling to when she’d ploughed into Andy in the museum to save him from that falling pile of boxes— a sensation of possibility and excitement.
‘But… would it work now?’ she muttered, coming to the end of the album and gently closing its covers.
Something inside her was telling her that this was important. Against all odds, she had a feeling the way to start breathing life back into the museum lay between these pages.
But… she wouldn’t be able to do it without help. After all, she was a newcomer, and even though all of the people she’d met so far had been lovely, she didn’t know nearly enough people to get something like this off the ground.
‘But I know someone who does!’ she said, rolling off the sofa with a bump and scrambling to her feet.
Suddenly, all her aches from shifting furniture the day before were gone, replaced by the delicious fizz of possibility that had now spread from her legs to every inch of her body.
Grabbing her bag, Cath popped the old album carefully back inside. Then, pausing just long enough to gulp the dregs of her cup of tea, she made a dash for the door. After practically tumbling out onto the busy high street, she turned her steps downhill. She just hoped that Caroline would be in her office.
Cath hadn’t been inside the Crumbleton Times and Echo building before. She knew where it was though, having spotted the little courtyard and the door with the plaque bearing Caroline’s name the previous evening when she’d been on a grocery run to Bendall’s.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she hurtled through the crowds of ambling tourists, doing her best not to turn an ankle on the cobbles or knock anyone over. Cath had a feeling that Caroline Cook was the right person to run her brand new idea past… and with any luck, she’d be the right person to beg for some help too.
Of course, Cath had only met her briefly over lunch with Andy. What if she’d just been friendly because of him? What if she didn’t want anything to do with her plan?
Cath came to an abrupt halt right beside the steps to the courtyard, almost causing a pile-up as a family carrying an array of fishing nets, shopping bags and super soakers piled straight into her.
‘Sorry!’ said Cath, grabbing hold of the woman to stop her from falling to the ground as her kids ping-ponged off in different directions, all of them giggling.
The woman shot her an amused look. ‘Away with the fairies?’
‘Erm… something like that!’ muttered Cath. ‘Sorry… again.’
‘Thanks for the save!’ The woman grinned and shrugged before following her family down the hill.
Cath gave herself a little shake. She was being ridiculous. She had no reason to believe that Caroline would be anything other than lovely to her again, and even if she wasn’t the right person to help with her grand plan, she’d probably be able to point her in the right direction.
Hurrying up the steps, Cath paused at the door. It was standing wide open, held in place with a metal weight to entice a little bit of fresh air into the building.
Not sure whether she should just wander straight in, Cath knocked anyway.
‘Hello? Come on upstairs, I’m in!’
That was definitely Caroline’s voice, somewhere from deep within the building. Setting her nerves aside, Cath stepped into the shade of the hallway. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she headed up the stairs. There was an office towards the back of the building with its door open, and Cath could see movement inside. It was as good a place to start as any.
‘Hi!’ said Caroline, beaming at her from behind a huge wooden desk as she approached. She had her bare feet propped up on the top, her toes wriggling as a little fan blew fresh air in a breezy arc. ‘Cath, right?’
‘Yep!’ said Cath, grinning at the pink-faced reporter. ‘Sorry to just barge in.’
‘Barge away, my friend,’ laughed Caroline. ‘Anything to distract me from the fact that I’m currently melting. You get bonus points if you’ve got ice cream.’
‘Sorry, no ice cream,’ said Cath, sinking into a chair Caroline was waving a hand at. ‘I can get you some, though? It’s roasting up here!’
‘Don’t worry,’ chuckled Caroline, dropping her feet to the ground and sitting up to face her. ‘I was just kidding. I’ve got to head out in a bit anyway – but I’m loving the impromptu visit. FYI, I’m always happy for a distraction.’
‘Good to know,’ said Cath, as her nerves melted away.
‘So,’ said Caroline. ‘What can I do you for?’
‘I’ve had an idea… about how to solve the funding issue for the museum,’ said Cath.
‘You have?’ said Caroline, looking intrigued. ‘Erm… how long have you been here?’
‘Three days,’ said Cath.
‘And you’re not even meant to have started your job yet, am I right?’ said Caroline.
‘Erm, well… no, but…’ Cath’s nerves re-emerged in a burst of butterflies. Had she somehow broken an unwritten rule by making a start before she was meant to?
‘Don’t look so worried!’ said Caroline. ‘I’m just impressed, that’s all.’
‘You haven’t heard the idea yet,’ said Cath with a relieved grin.
‘Out with it then!’
‘I want to reinstate the Sir Anthony Cheswell tennis tournament as a fundraiser for the museum,’ said Cath in a rush.
‘Wait,’ said Caroline. ‘You want to do what?’
Cath took a deep breath and then started to lay the beginnings of her plan out in as much detail as she could.
‘So that’s it, really,’ said Cath, after talking at speed for a full ten minutes without stopping to take a breath. ‘I’ve already unearthed some of the items we’ll need, we can do a corresponding display at the museum when we reopen and… well… it’s a historic event and the cup’s still miraculously in town.’
She paused and looked at Caroline, who didn’t say anything.
‘I mean, it’ll need the dead flies emptying out of it,’ she added. ‘And a good polish.’
Cath paused again. She knew she needed to stop talking to let Caroline get a word in edgeways… but she was just so desperate for her to get it and not dismiss it out of hand. After all, if she had Caroline on her side…
‘I love it!’ said Caroline with a broad smile.
‘You do?’ said Cath.
‘Of course,’ said Caroline. ‘It’s a brilliant idea. There’s plenty of time. We can easily get everything organised in time for next summer and—’
‘Next year will be too late!’ said Cath, cutting across her. ‘From what you said, the museum will probably be boarded up by then. It has to be this year… well… now , really. Before the summer’s over.’
‘Blimey!’ said Caroline, sucking air through her teeth. ‘You don’t mess around, do you?’
Cath shrugged. She wouldn’t normally be this forthright, but if it meant the museum had a chance to survive—and she got the chance to stay—well, then a bit of forthrightness would be worth it!
‘You know,’ said Caroline, after thinking for a moment, ‘you might find that Fergus at the hotel would be keen to host the event. Even though it’s last minute, we’re almost at the end of the summer season, and he’s had a bit of a run of bad publicity recently.’
‘Uh oh, that doesn’t sound so good!’ said Cath, as her little bubble of hope deflated slightly. The last thing she needed was to get the museum caught up in any second-hand bad press.
‘Nothing major,’ said Caroline, waving her hand dismissively. ‘Just a matter of someone ending up in hospital after a wedding. It’s a bit of a long story, but nothing to do with the food or anything like that—he just got clonked on the head by the bouquet.’
Cath let out a snort of amusement and then clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Not funny!’
‘Oh no, it really was!’ said Caroline. ‘Anyway, that’s how your flat ended up being available… like I said – a very long story, and I’ll fill you in over a drink sometime!’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Cath.
‘Then you’re on,’ said Caroline. ‘But let’s see if we can get this shindig of yours off the ground first. Like I said, Fergus might well be up for something like this—especially if you tell him I’ll be covering it in the paper.’
‘You will?’ said Cath.
‘Of course!’ said Caroline. ‘Now, first things first… you’d better go and find Andy!’
‘Okay,’ said Cath. ‘Erm… why, exactly?’
‘Because last time I was at the Dolphin and Anchor, the grass was absolutely wild,’ said Caroline. ‘He’s the one in charge of the mowing, and if he can’t get it sorted out in time—or doesn’t think it’s a possibility for whatever reason—then your idea’s sunk.’
‘Right,’ said Cath, taking a deep breath. Who’d have thought that it would be Andy she was going to have to convince to make it all work?! ‘Right. I’ll go find him, then. Erm… any ideas where I should start?’
‘You know, I think he might be down at the hotel now if you want to catch him,’ said Caroline, leaning back in her chair again and popping her feet back on the desk.
‘Really?’ said Cath.
‘Yep,’ yawned Caroline. ‘I’m sure I heard that ancient mower spluttering earlier.’
‘From all the way up here?’ said Cath.
‘You’d better believe it!’
Cath made a dash for the door and then turned back to smile at Caroline. ‘Thank you.’
‘Lemme know how it goes!’ said Caroline, her eyes drifting closed as the fan swept over her.