Page 34 of Match Point in Crumbleton
‘Think of the history! I can’t believe you’d just cast it aside like that!’ Andy elbowed her gently in the ribs.
‘Git!’ she chuckled, nudging him right back. ‘You’ll be glad to know I did keep one of her donations though. A really important one.’
‘Oh?’ said Andy, doing his best not to get lost in the tiny navy flecks dancing in Cath’s eyes.
‘Here,’ she said. Leaning forward, she grabbed a tin from the top of an upturned tea chest acting as a makeshift coffee table. Cath prised the lid off and wafted the contents under his nose.
‘Shortbread?’ he said.
‘Only the best shortbread I’ve ever tasted,’ she said, taking a piece and gesturing for him to do the same. ‘Even better, Agatha’s volunteered to bake a whole ton of it for the tournament. Apparently, the WI ladies are keen to help too, and they want to know if Fergus would be willing for them to run a cake stall on the day—all proceeds going to the museum.’
‘That’s brilliant!’ said Andy, taking a bite and then letting out a whimper of delight as the buttery sweetness dissolved on his tongue. ‘Oh. My. Goodness.’
‘Right?’ said Cath.
Andy nodded, taking another bite.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘and Agatha mentioned they’d be happy to be in charge of doling out the strawberries and cream too.’
‘Ah,’ said Andy, ‘so… that’s actually what I came to talk to you about. Stuart can’t get the strawberries.’
‘But… I thought Stuart could basically get anything?’ Cath frowned. ‘I mean his shop is…’
‘A modern miracle?’ said Andy, nodding. There couldn’t be that many places in the world where you could grab a pint of milk and a set of chimney-sweeping brushes at the same time.
‘He really can’t get us the strawberries?’ said Cath. ‘I don’t mean to sound like a drama lama, but that could be a bit of a disaster. I mean, literally every single person I’ve had in here has asked whether there’ll be local strawberries.’
‘Yeah,’ sighed Andy. ‘He was really sorry. It’s quite late in the season as it is, and it’s got something to do with the bad weather at the start of the summer wiping out most of his supplier’s crop. The other guy he thought might be able to help has just retired.’
‘Gutted,’ said Cath.
‘He said he could get his hands on plenty of blueberries… or gooseberries… or rhubarb…’ Andy trailed off. It was pretty clear from the look on her face what Cath thought of those options.
‘Okay, well… don’t get your hopes up, but I do have another idea.’
‘Tell me!’ said Cath, immediately perking up.
‘Well, there’s this garden I can see into when I mend the town steps,’ said Andy. ‘It belongs to old Harold Pottinger, and I know I’ve seen strawberries growing in there before. I’m not sure how many, mind, but it might be worth asking?’
‘Is it a big garden?’ said Cath. ‘I mean, we’re going to need quite a lot.’
‘Not sure,’ said Andy. ‘His wife makes jam I think, so there’s a good chance he grows a decent crop.’
‘But surely they’ll be spoken for?’ said Cath.
Andy shrugged. ‘Shall we go and find out?’
‘Why not?’ Cath nodded, jumping to her feet. ‘I could do with a break from the boxes anyway.’
Andy couldn’t help but send up his silent thanks for the narrow steps as Cath trotted down the hill ahead of him. If they had been able to walk side-by-side, it would have been as much as he could do not to reach out and take her hand. He hadn’t wanted to let go when she’d pulled him up out of the sofa just now, and he could swear his palms were still tingling from contact.
Idiot!
They might be spending lots of time together, but Andy wasn’t about to kid himself. Although Cath seemed to be happy whenever he was around, he knew she was probably just being polite. He knew she was glad of his help, but he was under no allusions—Cath Walker was about as capable as they came. She could do all this on her own… blindfolded.
Still, Andy liked helping her and it was the perfect excuse to spend more time with her. What he’d do after the weekend, when the Cheswell Cup was awarded and the tournament was all over… well he didn’t want to think about that right now.
‘How far down is it?’ said Cath, pausing about five steps below and peering back at him over her shoulder.
