Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
CATH
‘ F ound one!’ shouted Cath, yanking the racket out of the crammed box and waving it in the air triumphantly.
It had been a couple of days since she’d had her brainwave about reinstating the Sir Anthony Cheswell Cup, and she’d barely stopped to draw breath since. Still, it would all be worth it. Things were coming together so quickly that she could barely keep up.
As both Caroline and Andy had predicted, Fergus loved the idea. He’d jumped at the chance of hosting an event that could bring a crowd to the hotel—as well as some good publicity. Between them, Cath and Fergus had decided that they’d do their best to keep the event as authentic as possible and include as many nods to the past as they could—it was a museum fundraiser, after all.
Fergus’s only concern had been about upsetting his neighbours if tennis balls ended up endangering their windows. Andy had come up with a solution straight away—players could only use old, wooden rackets. They had a lot less power… and in theory, it should make things a little less hairy for everyone involved. The only problem now was finding enough that were in one piece to use on the big day. This was the reason she’d just spent the last two hours with Andy, rummaging through as many boxes at the museum as possible.
‘What’s that make it?’ called Cath over her shoulder. ‘Four-two to me?’
‘Not that you’re competitive or anything?’ laughed Andy, peering around a pillar to smile at her.
‘Me? Never!’ said Cath, before doing a triumphant little fist pump.
‘Found one!’ yelled Andy.
‘Seriously?’ said Cath, straightening up and stretching the kinks out of her back.
‘Damn,’ sighed Andy. ‘Strike that, it’s a badminton racket.’
Cath let out a snigger.
‘Oi, don’t mock!’ said Andy with an exaggerated pout in her direction.
‘As if I would!’ said Cath. ‘You just look cute when you’re sad, that’s all.’
The temptation to head straight over there and kiss that pout right off his face was almost more than she could bear… but no, maybe not. The last thing she needed to do right now was scare the living daylights out of the poor guy and send him running for the hills.
Cath was getting more than a little bit used to having Andy around. They’d spent hours on end together over the past few days, getting various things ready for the event… and it was getting… dangerous. She was finding it increasingly hard to stop herself from reaching for him whenever he was nearby. There was something about Andy that made her want to hug him, pat him, brush past him or lean on his shoulder. It was like there was a magnetic charge between them that seemed to be growing stronger by the day. Hell… by the hour!
And yet… maybe she was just imagining it.
Surely not, though?
But maybe.
GAH!
‘You okay?’ chuckled Andy, staring at her.
‘Yeah,’ she blurted. ‘I mean… yes, why?’
‘Because you’ve gone all frowny,’ he said. ‘Need a break?’
‘You wish!’ she said.
No, she didn’t need a break… she just needed to get the memory of him topless in the Dolphin and Anchor’s garden out of her head. The image was seared into her brain. Not that she was complaining. It just made her a tad… distracted.
As much as she wanted to, Cath definitely wouldn’t be rushing over there and snogging his face off. For one thing, if she started, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop, and for another…
‘Hello dearies!’
And for another, there’s an elderly lady watching us!
‘Hi!’ said Cath, plastering a smile onto her face as she turned and hurried towards the new arrival—mainly to stop her from picking her way through the disaster zone. Cath’s smile broadened when she spotted what their visitor was carrying.
‘I heard you’re planning on bringing the Cheswell Cup back to Crumbleton? Said the woman, nodding at her armful of vintage tennis rackets. Some of them were still wearing their wooden cases. ‘I had this little lot lying around the house, so I thought I’d pop them up to you in case they might come in handy. I won’t need them back… I don’t have any use for them anymore.’
‘Here, let me take those from you,’ said Andy, stepping forward to relieve the woman of her awkward burden.
‘What a brilliant donation,’ said Cath, doing her best to count the rackets as Andy took them. Their little stash had just doubled in number! ‘Can I take your name? I want to make sure everyone who contributes gets a mention in the program—and maybe the newspaper too, if Caroline has got space.’
‘Well, wouldn’t that be lovely?’ said their visitor. ‘My name’s Evelyn Barker. Good luck with it all, dearie!’
‘Wait!’ said Cath as Evelyn turned to leave.
The old woman turned to face her again, looking surprised.
‘Sorry!’ said Cath quickly. ‘I just wanted to ask… you’re E Barker? The E Barker… who won the cup back in 1988?’
‘That’s me,’ said Evelyn.
‘Can you tell us anything about the game?’ said Cath. ‘I mean, I really want to make this year’s tournament as authentic as possible, and to share as much of its history as I can, too.’
‘I would be delighted to,’ said Evelyn. ‘I’ve not had the chance to talk about it all for a good long while… but I’m afraid I’ll need to sit down. I’m not as young as I used to be, and the old pins are worn out from climbing the hill carrying that lot!’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Andy, setting the rackets down carefully. ‘How about I treat us all to a cuppa and a cake down at the café?’
‘Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,’ said Evelyn, trying and failing to keep a delighted smile off her face.
‘You’re a very long way from being a bother,’ said Cath, shaking her head. ‘And we were just about to take a break anyway.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Evelyn.
‘Positive,’ said Andy.
‘I might hold you up a bit on the way down the hill,’ said Evelyn.
‘We’re in no rush,’ said Andy, ‘and you can take my arm if you’d like?’
Cath smiled to herself as Evelyn practically melted on the spot. She wondered briefly if Andy had any idea of the effect he could have by being such a good guy… and then promptly decided that he didn’t have a clue. He was just naturally open and friendly. There was no side to him.
Letting out a little sigh, Cath had to shake herself into action.
‘Right, sounds like we’ve got a plan,’ she said. ‘It’ll be nice to get away from all this history for a few minutes!’
Evelyn turned out to be pretty sprightly once she had her hand tucked into the crook of Andy’s arm. They were ensconced at one of the café’s tables in under ten minutes. After perusing the menu, they ordered a round of toasted teacakes with butter, and a giant pot of tea to share between the three of them.
Cath noticed Evelyn couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She kept looking between her and Andy as though she couldn’t quite believe her luck. Cath wondered briefly how much company the old woman had at home. It was clear she was having the time of her life with Andy fussing over her.
Yet again, Cath felt a rush of tingles as the beginnings of another idea started to bloom in the back of her mind. She wanted the museum to be at the heart of the community… maybe people like Evelyn were the key to making that happen.
Cath bit her lip. She needed to keep this brand-new idea to herself for the time being and think it through properly in the peace and quiet of her flat. Right now, she wanted to hear all about the last bout of the Cheswell Cup from the reigning champion herself.
‘So, tell us all about it!’ she said, smiling across the table at Evelyn. ‘I’ve seen photos of some of the earlier tournaments, but there weren’t many from the eighties—at least, not in the only album I’ve found so far.’
‘I might have some more photos at home,’ said Evelyn. ‘If you’d like to see them, I could look them out?’
‘That would be brilliant!’ said Cath.
‘But tell us, what was it like,’ said Andy. ‘How were the games organised… or was it a bit of a free-for-all? There’s only one court, after all.’
‘Oh no,’ said Evelyn. ‘It was very well organised. It was open to all comers—male and female. I remember I had to work my way through a bunch of preliminaries, then there were the semis, and eventually, I was up against Nigel Finlay-Warren in the final. And I won!’
‘You make it sound so easy,’ chuckled Andy.
‘Not that last match,’ said Evelyn, her eyes going dreamy. ‘I do remember that Nigel wasn’t very happy about it though. He almost beat me and I had to survive several match points. He had this fantastic serve, you see—but I worked him out eventually, and beat him in the final set.’
‘Wow,’ said Cath. ‘Sounds like quite a game!’
‘It was brilliant fun, but of course, the tennis club closed its doors not long after that. Before we knew it, Fergus had bought the building and turned it into a hotel—and now we’ve got the Dolphin and Anchor.’ Evelyn paused and smiled at both of them in turn. ‘Nothing stays the same, of course—and I like Fergus’s cooking very much—but I’m glad you’re bringing back the Cheswell Cup. I’ll definitely be coming along to watch.’
At that moment, a smiling woman bearing a tray laden with teacakes and a teapot rocked up at the table.
‘Ah, Mabel!’ said Evelyn with a broad smile. ‘You angel.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ chuckled Mabel, efficiently emptying her tray onto the table.
‘I didn’t get to introduce you the other day when we were in with Caroline,’ said Andy. ‘Mabel, this is Cath—she’s taking on the museum.’
‘Oof! You’re a brave soul!’ said Mabel, beaming at her.
‘And she’s starting out by bringing tennis back to town,’ said Evelyn.
‘The Cheswell Cup?’ said Mabel in surprise.
‘The very one,’ said Cath. ‘Fergus down at the Dolphin and Anchor has already agreed, so it’s all systems go.’
‘Well well well!’ said Mabel. ‘I remember the last one when our Evelyn here won. Of course, I was just a tiny tacker back then. I spent most of the day with Geraldine from the antiques shop, pilfering bowls of strawberries and hiding under the tablecloths to eat them.’
Cath smiled. ‘Strawberries seem to have been a major part of the proceedings—they even featured heavily in the photo album I found.’
‘Oh yes, you can’t hold the Cheswell Cup without plenty of strawberries,’ said Evelyn, taking a hearty bite of buttery teacake.
‘Sounds like we know what our next job is going to be, then!’ said Cath raising her eyebrows at Andy.
He nodded. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to sort something out.’
‘Talk to Stuart down at Bendall’s,’ said Mabel. ‘I’ll bet my bottom dollar he’ll be able to point you in the right direction.’