Summer Strawberries at Swallowtail Bay

‘Four?’ Gwen almost shouted across the table. She had one of those piercing voices that carried. The remaining committee members looked on in surprise. ‘What on earth do you need four fields for?’

Hetty calmly outlined the number of people who’d already agreed to have a stall, and all the additional things they’d discussed that morning.

‘It doesn’t sound like you’re running a food festival anymore, you’re running a – a – I don’t know what.’ Gwen was beginning to redden. ‘But it doesn’t sound like something the committee should be supporting.’

To John’s horror, some of the heads nodded.

‘I’ll admit,’ said Hetty, ‘my original idea has grown—’

‘It sounds like it’s grown to more than just you and your assistant can handle.’

The older gentleman on the committee piped up. ‘Ambition is to be applauded, but we don’t want it to turn into an embarrassment. The strawberry festival we currently have might be small but it’s manageable.’

More nodding of heads and John bit back the retort that it was more of an embarrassment as it presently was. Seeing the support she had, Gwen was back on the attack.

‘And Thornhill Hall is famously anti the townsfolk going anywhere near the place. Do you think people will suddenly be brave enough to visit when you’ve made it clear you don’t want us normal people anywhere near your house?’

A flash of apprehension and annoyance passed over Hetty’s features and John decided it was time for him to speak. His own annoyance was mounting like steam inside a pressure cooker and needed to be released before it erupted into a response he might regret. A response that might cause Hetty even more problems.

‘I understand your reticence,’ he said calmly, rising out of his seat. ‘I was resistant to the idea myself. But I’ve come to realise that this is a fabulous idea and I have every confidence Hetty can not only organise this, but that it will be a great success as well.’ Gwen glanced at the other committee members and her mouth formed a tight angry line as their faces began to change, swaying away from her. ‘As for people coming to Thornhill Hall …’ He paused. ‘It’s true that we don’t open up the house and the grounds for public viewing. There are a number of reasons for that which, quite frankly, are nobody’s business but our own.’

Hetty’s eyes had been following him and the corners tensed as he said this.

‘But we’re ready now to welcome anyone and everyone to the food festival. I’m happy to allow Hetty to use our land to organise what will undoubtedly be a fabulous event over one of the busiest summer weekends, so that everyone can capitalise on it and enjoy the financial benefits.’

As John sat down, he saw the look of confusion and approval on Hetty’s face. She couldn’t have thought that he’d speak so enthusiastically on her behalf. He found himself glad that he’d both surprised and impressed her.

‘Right,’ said Mary, speaking up for the first time. ‘I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m tired of organising an event everyone laughs at and only comes along to out of a sense of duty. If Hetty is happy to organise this amazing-sounding food festival, I think we should let her. Show of hands, please. All in favour?’

Four hands raised. Gwen and the older gentleman’s arms stayed firmly by their sides, but it didn’t matter because the motion was carried. The first Swallowtail Bay Food Festival was to be held on the August bank holiday weekend in just under four weeks’ time.

As much as she’d impressed him, John really hoped Hetty and her assistant could pull it all off in time. His family didn’t need any more egg on their faces. They had a whole omelette there already.

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