Chapter Sixty-Two
The pub’s breakfast was sublime. I forgot about Robin as I ordered sausage, bacon, egg, tomatoes, baked beans, mushrooms and toast.
Once again there was no sign of Polly. However, Cilla was a larger-than-life presence behind the bar.
Her platinum blonde hair was piled up on her head in a towering beehive. Gold hoops, like mini satellite dishes, dangled from her ears. Half a dozen bracelets jangled on her wrists. The false eyelashes were still in place, but today’s lipstick had changed to a neon pink. It was so bright it possibly glowed in the dark. She was dressed in a clingy leopard print jumpsuit that emphasised her chunky figure. Somehow, she carried off the look. Possibly because she looked like she’d wandered straight out of The Rovers Return .
She approached our table with a plate in each hand.
‘Blow on the sausages before giving them to your dogs,’ she said, setting the plates down. ‘They’re piping hot. I don’t want my four-legged visitors burning their tongues.’ Cilla stooped to fuss Rambo and Cindy. Her bangles jingled as she stroked their heads. ‘Gorgeous doggies,’ she cooed. ‘Have you heard the latest?’ she asked, straightening up.
Milo suddenly looked wary. For one horrible moment I thought Cilla was going to blame Polly’s absence on JJ. That she might tear Milo off a strip for not giving his son a stern talking to.
‘Latest?’ Milo frowned.
‘About Starlight Hall,’ said Cilla.
‘Is that the hut next to the church?’ I asked.
‘It’s a bit more than a hut, love,’ Cilla sniffed. ‘That’s the village hall. It’s been there since 1965. It’s the centre of community life. It’s where the village holds bi-annual fetes, and hosts gymkhanas. We even have a local dog show. It’s also the perfect venue for weddings, parties, conferences and meetings.’
‘Really?’ I said doubtfully.
It reminded me of my schooldays and prefabricated classrooms. Whilst I could envisage it playing host to a local fete, I couldn’t imagine anyone booking the place to celebrate their wedding. Not unless they were on a tight budget.
‘There’s been many a happy gathering at Starlight Hall,’ said Cilla sharply. ‘Last one was for Hugo and Linda Cartwright. They hired it to celebrate their Pearl wedding anniversary. There was a delicious buffet lunch and the whole village was invited to their bash. Have you met the Cartwrights?’ Her tone suggested you were nobody if you hadn’t.
‘I’ve met Linda and her mother-in-law, Hetty,’ I said timidly. I was very aware that I was a newcomer to Starlight Croft – a temporary one at that. My boss had once said that small villages had small minds. That you needed to go back three generations to truly belong. ‘How lovely for Linda and Hugo,’ I said, back-peddling to ingratiate myself. ‘I can quite see how the hall’ – I was careful not to say hut again – ‘would be the perfect place for celebrations.’ And as it was only a stone’s throw from the pub, I could also see why Cilla was keen to promote events that might give a helping hand with a supply of booze.
‘Indeed,’ said Cilla, eyeing me speculatively. Obviously, I wasn’t yet home and dry with her. ‘The hall needs a bit of TLC, but that takes money. The local council won’t splash out, so tomorrow there’s a fundraising event. I hope you’ll both go along and be supportive. Hetty and her cronies in high places are organising a craft fayre.’
‘We will be sure to attend,’ said Milo.
Pleasure rippled through me. He’d said we. Oh, goody! Another day with Milo. Robin aside, this weekend was turning into a fabulous one.
‘Thanks for telling us,’ I beamed.
‘Oh, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you both. Craft fayre aside, there’s a rumour circulating that the local council are putting Starlight Hall on the market. Even worse, a builder is after it.’
‘How incredible,’ I breathed.
My mind galloped ahead. Wow. That building was sitting on a huge plot of land. If a builder demolished Starlight Hall, maybe ten, or even twenty, houses could be built. And Yours Truly would be the first in line for putting down her deposit.
‘Incredible?’ Cilla’s eyes narrowed.
‘I-I mean, it’s incredible that… that the Council have the gall to think of selling part of the village’s heritage.’ My cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the faux pas. ‘Outrageous,’ I added in a peeved voice.
‘You can say that again,’ Cilla agreed, misconstruing my rosy cheeks as pink with indignation . ‘So, we all need to keep our eyes – and ears – peeled. No builder is getting his paws on our hall, right?’
‘Indeed,’ I said stoutly, but my mind was already elsewhere.
First thing Monday morning, I’d be telephoning the local council. There were some discreet enquiries to be made. About planning applications for starters.