Chapter 28 #2
With the same speedy turnaround as her arrival, the door jangled as she left with a ‘Just off to get the hall set up for indoor bowls.’ The refurbished village hall seemed to have given Veronica a new lease of life, and sense of purpose, too.
*
It was almost 5 p.m., and just as Cath was about to close up, after a busy yet satisfying day, a couple in their sixties came dashing in.
‘I hope we’re not too late? They haven’t all gone, have they?’ The lady, who Cath recognised as living in a small hamlet nearby, sounded rather flustered. ‘Only our Milly – that’s the dog – has been poorly, and we clean forgot. I was just chatting to Joyce next door, and she mentioned it.’
‘It’s been a race to get here before closing time,’ her husband added, looking rather red in the face.
‘He was doing a good impression of Lewis Hamilton in those lanes. I was hanging on to my seat by the end.’
It suddenly clicked with Cath that it was officially the last day to get tickets for the Tilldale Afternoon Tea.
The poster had been duly amended after their last meeting.
She pulled out the list from behind the counter, spotting dear old Kenneth’s name right there at the top.
There were, oh wow, eighteen tickets already dished out – and that of course, was on top of the care home group numbers.
‘No worries. You’re fine.’ Cath found the metal tin that Dan had been using for the tickets.
‘Here you go.’ She pulled out two of the tickets – that Lily had designed so prettily for them – from an elastic-banded bundle, and recorded the numbers and the couple’s names on the sheet.
She then gave a smile. ‘Not long to go now.’
‘Yes, and we heard how fabulous the last do was. Joyce told us all about it. We couldn’t possibly miss out this time.’
‘Well, be sure to bring your dancing shoes along. As well as the tea, we’ve got a band and dancing.’
‘Oh, it sounds wonderful. We can’t wait. Thank you. Oh, and how much do we owe you for the tickets?’ added the lady, who Cath now remembered was called Sue.
‘It’s a free event, but …’ Cath seized the opportunity to bring in some extra funds, ‘we are holding a raffle, and there’s a tombola on the day to help cover costs.
Raffle tickets are a pound a strip, and the main prize is this wonderful hamper, right here.
It’s filled to the brim with tea-time treats. ’
‘And oh, what a hamper,’ declared Sue.
‘Put us down for ten then, pet,’ said her husband, as he pulled out his wallet with a flourish. ‘And the tea is all free you say, that’s marvellous. It’s not often you get something for nothing, nowadays. Thank you to whoever’s organising it.’
‘Well, that’s actually me and my friends.’ As well as a swirl of pride, Cath also was hit by a tug of anxiety. The pressure was on to live up to expectations.
‘How fantastic, well done.’
Cath handed him ten strips of tickets for the raffle, after taking his name and a contact number.
‘Fingers crossed, then.’ He nodded at the tickets now in his hand.
Cath was crossing her fingers, too, hoping that they could manage to pull off another smooth and very sociable event.
‘Joyce is coming along,’ remembered Sue. ‘I’ll get her some raffle tickets, too. Let’s take five more. She’s recently lost her husband, you know. I think this event might help get her back out, cheer her up a bit.’
This was what it was all about, Cath thought, cheering people up, brightening their day, sending them away with a smile, a full tummy, perhaps a few new friends and some heartwarming memories.
She just hoped that she and her supper club team could pull it off all over again, and make it as good, or even better this time.
No pressure there, then! What could possibly go wrong?
*
With Dan and Andreas away all day, Cath had promised to look after Shirley as well as the shop.
She’d taken the terrier out briefly over lunchtime.
And, after closing up, she was now in the flat above the stores, clipping the little dog on to her lead, ready to head out to the fields beyond the village, and take a stroll down by the river.
Cath stifled a yawn after her hectic day, but she had a feeling this walk would do her good, as well as the dog.
She felt more than ready to decompress a little.
With a week now having passed since she and Will had had their difficult outing, though things had settled somewhat and she’d popped in to visit him each day, she was still feeling a little angsty, and couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.
Perhaps her mind would settle and begin to work it out as she rambled.
She made her way down the stairs, with Shirley trotting eagerly beside her.
After locking the side door, they turned the street corner, passing the village green with its stone cross memorial, and strolled by several traditional honey-grey stone cottages; their small front gardens in full bloom, with scented roses, tall hollyhocks, and pots and hanging baskets filled with purple and pink petunias, trailing begonias and delicate dark-blue lobelia.
Leaving the village behind, the pair made their way along the lane to drop down through a small wooden gate into the pastures that bordered the river.
All around was farmland; fields of green where cattle and sheep calmly grazed, alongside crop fields now turning to barley gold.
Away in the distance were the moorland hills.
The sky above filled with bulbous clouds that were slowly scudding by, with a promise of summer blue beyond.
With nature all around, and Shirley happily sniffing and scooting about on a loose lead, Cath’s thoughts began to settle.
The Tilldale Tea was looming, of course, with all of the organisation that would entail.
When she’d thought up this madcap afternoon tea scheme, she had no idea quite how popular it would be, or that Will would become ill with cancer and would have to undergo surgery, and be facing a slow recovery.
She already felt tired to the bone, and despite all the wonderful offers of sponsorship and fundraising she’d received, there was of course a whole heap of planning to do and tasks to undertake.
Juggling all this with caring for Will, plus the prickly atmosphere shifting momentarily from her to between him and his girls – just last night he’d accused Maddie and Sophie of ‘ganging up on him’ as they tried to persuade him to get back out and do some exercise on his bike again.
With Cath privately agreeing with them, yet trying her best to keep his battered spirits up, it was taking its toll.
Her online tuition was still ongoing, though that had slowed down at this time of year – at least until the new term started – but still there was a lot of prep needed to keep up to date with any changes in the curriculum.
She was making her weekly visits to the care home, too; she couldn’t imagine letting the residents down.
That was an awfully big life ‘to-do’ list in itself.
Throw in a full day at the shop, which had been fine and she was glad to help out the lads, but she was more than ready to crash out on the sofa.
Instead, here she was still going strong-ish, giving Shirley her exercise.
Cath’s pace wasn’t as brisk as it might have been.
Snatching a yawn, she took a pause, gazing at the cool cola-brown ripples of the river flowing by.
Her energy levels were definitely at a low ebb.
The emotions of these past weeks surrounding Will’s diagnosis and surgery had evidently caught up on her.
Though she tried to keep bright and cheery for him and the girls, the disturbing thoughts that troubled her at night still managed to worm their way to the surface.
She hardly wanted to acknowledge them. They were like doom-mongers.
What if they hadn’t got rid of it all, the cancer?
What if it might already have spread? How did they know for certain that the surgery would work?
Was cancer ‘Clive’ going to prove to be a bit of a bastard in the long run?
And what if she’d finally found the love of her life, and he wasn’t going to be here for that long? These were the fears that she hadn’t dared to voice to anyone.
She felt a prickle of tears.
‘Hey, Shirley.’ She bent down to stroke the soft-white fur of the West Highland terrier.
‘Enjoying your walk, little lady?’ Okay, she was aware she was talking to a dog, but there was no one else around to hear her, after all.
And perhaps a chat with her canine pal might help shift these negative thoughts.
Shirley snuffled her damp black nose against Cath’s palm in response, and then stood still beside her, happy to receive more affectionate pats.
The warmth of the mid-July sun was on Cath’s back, the smell of grass and earth filled her nostrils.
The sound of a tractor humming in the distance, and oh, the close hum of a bee as it passed by like a drone on its busy nectar-seeking way.
By the time she’d returned to the shop, Cath’s head felt a little clearer; being surrounded by nature, her canine companion and the simple act of walking had calmed her.
Everything would work out somehow, she told herself, as she hung up the lead and watched Shirley settle down into her snug bed.
Keep the faith, find a way. No use fretting about what might go wrong.
Appreciate the now; plan, plan, plan for the afternoon tea party; and a big two-fingered ‘V’ sign to Clive.