saying is a little variety could be good. There’s a fair happening a few towns over that’s advertising food trucks. Indian, Mexican, Greek. I mean, who doesn’t love a good souvlaki? Or a tasty taco?’
Jody’s answer came in the form of a squeak and rumble from the direction of her stomach. ‘Traitor. I knew I should’ve gone for a scone and a sausage roll.’ She grimaced as she rubbed it. ‘I suppose there’s nothing wrong in at least checking out the offerings. Maybe we could do both? Food trucks and baking?’
‘Perhaps.’ Christian diarised a trip to the fair on his mobile. ‘But it all comes down to space. We’ve only a smallish amount to work with and we need to maximise it as much as possible. It is The Big Little Festival, after all. It needs to go off with a bang.’
‘So, I guess that means we can’t do both the carousel and the Ferris wheel, or the vintage car show and the jumble and book sale.’ Jody spooned sugar into her coffee and gave it a swirl.
‘Perhaps we can. The jumble and book sale could be held in the hall. I’m having second thoughts on the vintage car show. Too big, and it won’t bring in money. You know, we could do some really old-fashioned style festival activities. It would be in keeping with the old-time feel of this place. Say a ring toss, or a kissing booth, even.’
Jordan’s head lifted. ‘Just don’t you be the one kissing, Mum. We’d make no money.’
Jody swatted Jordan’s head. ‘Oh, you shush, cheeky boy.’
‘I don’t know, Jordan. I can imagine there’d be a couple of people out there who’d pay to be kissed by your mum. I’d be first in line.’ Christian paused as Jody flushed bright red, then realised how what he’d said sounded. ‘You know, just to get the ball rolling…’
‘I’m not kissing anyone,’ she croaked. ‘The kissing booth isn’t happening. Besides, germs.’
‘Good point, Mum. Everyone knows girls have lots of germs.’ Jordan nodded his approval and returned to the screen.
Christian suppressed a laugh. Even choked up and embarrassed, Jody was hot. And even though he had no intention of pursuing anything with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had a partner. Earlier, when he’d grabbed her hand and their knees had touched, she’d acted like he’d bitten her. Or jolted her with a taser. Whatever had passed between them sure had some electricity behind it. And while he didn’t want to explore that connection, he wasn’t sure why Jody was so keen to shut it down? Was there someone in the picture, secreted away on the side? Did she not want the boys to see her with another man unless it was serious?
‘Christian? You in there? What else would you suggest we add to the programme?’
‘Pony rides, like we talked about. A rural petting zoo perhaps. All easily doable. But of course it’s not going to happen unless you get sign-off on using the main street. We were waiting on one person, weren’t we? The butcher? He had to give his okay along with all the other business owners to host the festival on the main street?’
Jody nodded. ‘Yeah, but he’s adamant it’ll hurt his business. Won’t budge.’
‘But we have something on him, don’t we? We could do what Shirley suggested and use that to get what we want, couldn’t we?’ Christian pressed.
‘Oh no.’ Jody shook her head, eyes wide in horror. ‘We couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.’
Christian admired her integrity, but they weren’t getting the festival off the ground without each and every business owner’s consent. ‘Sorry, Jody, I disagree. What’s not right is halting the progress and growth of this village because you’re afraid you might sell a few less lamb chops one day of the year. I’m going to chat to him, now.’ He scraped the chair back and stood up.
‘If you’re doing that, I’m coming with you. I won’t have you upsetting a member of this town unnecessarily. Boys, you stay here. Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’
‘I’ll say what needs to be said, nothing more. Besides, there’s more than one way to get what you want. I just need to find out what’s important to him. What he wants. I’m sure I won’t have to resort to revealing his secret to the whole village.’ Christian marched through the door and into the street, quiet apart from a dog tied up outside the café, staring longingly at a cat lazing in the sun across the road.
There was a tug on his shirt.
‘You are not going to tell him you know he wears lacy underwear,’ Jody whispered. ‘It’s not your business. It’s nobody’s business. And what if he digs his heels in deeper? Christian, if he knows Mrs Harper has been spreading rumours about him, you could start some sort of town war.’ Jody spun him round to face her. ‘This isn’t London. If you have a falling out with someone, you’re going to have to see them again. A lot. You can’t do this.’
‘I’ll do what needs to be done.’ Christian shrugged her off, strode across the road and paused in front of the butchery – ‘Stripped and Fed’. What the hell kind of name was that for a butchery? Graphic much? And now he was going to have to meet the proprietor, knowing that when he stripped he was in lacy knicks. Bloody hell. If he didn’t need this job so much he would have been out of here in five seconds flat.
He pushed open the door and was greeted by refreshing chilled air, and the earthy, metallic scent butcheries exuded. He breathed it in. There was more to that scent, though. There was a hint of spiciness too. Before him, display fridges were filled with choice cuts, gleaming pink and red. He glanced up and saw fat-speckled salami hanging. Different widths, different lengths, and from the looks of it, different varieties. At the end of the room another fridge displayed prosciutto, pre-cut salami, pancetta and coppa, as well as cheeses, olives and sun-dried tomatoes. He strolled over for a closer look. Not just any cheese, a range of goat’s cheese – chèvre, brie, blue. Sitting alongside those were camembert, gouda, cheddar, with a sign stating all products were produced locally. This wasn’t a butchery, it was foodie heaven. An idea occurred to him…
Jody burst through the door, her eyes wild with panic. ‘Where’s Mr Thompson?’ She craned her neck over the meat-filled fridges. ‘Don’t tell me he’s stormed off in a rage.’ She gnawed at her lower lip. ‘What have you done, Christian?’
‘I’ve done nothing. But I have a way to get what we want.’
‘Done? Who’s done what?’ A tall, burly man clomped his way towards them. White boots slapping on the tiled floor.
‘Mr Thompson!’ Jody squeaked. ‘We were wondering where you were…’
Christian grabbed Jody’s hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping it would convey she could trust him. That he wasn’t going to blow it. She snatched it away and shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim shorts.
‘Finally, I get to meet the great Mr Thompson. It’s an absolute pleasure, sir.’ Christian offered his hand to Mr Thompson, who looked at it with suspicion. Christian dropped his hand. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy a sell as he’d thought. He cleared his throat. ‘Right, so, um, as much as I’d like to make this a social occasion, Jody and I are here on business. I hear you’re refusing to give the okay for the festival to take place in the main street.’
‘It’ll ruin a day’s takings.’ Mr Thompson picked up a knife and steel from his butcher’s block and began to sharpen it vigorously. ‘I don’t know who you are, but if you knew anything about Rabbits Leap, you’d know it’s not the kind of place where a person can afford to lose a day’s takings.’
‘I understand that, Mr Thompson, I do. But it’s imperative you give us the okay today. The festival is just under three weeks away. Tickets have been sold, in fact they’ve sold out.’ The fib rolled off his tongue. Sometimes you had to expand on the truth to get what you wanted. ‘And if we don’t hold it here, we’ll have to beg a farmer to lease us some land. An expense we were hoping to avoid, as we’re aiming to raise enough money to revitalise