So, yes, I was somewhat discombobulated.
To my relief, Becky snapped me out of it.
‘Coming to the race?’ she asked, linking her arm through mine.
I nodded, distractedly, eyes still unable to tear themselves away from Nora, now peering at a jar of pickle.
‘Hang on, did you used to know her?’ Becky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she followed my gaze. ‘Or have you met in a professional capacity or something? Ooh, did she beat you to the job writing the column?’
I shook my head, steering us around in the direction of the river. ‘I used to sort of know her, but things didn’t end well so I don’t know how she’ll react to seeing me here. I really don’t want to be the cause of any Damson Day drama, so please don’t tell anyone. Even better, if you could stand between us and shield me from her for the rest of the day, that’d be perfect.’
‘Best friend’s honour.’ Becky nodded gravely. ‘On the condition that you tell me all the details sometime. Oh, and by “sometime” I mean either this evening or tomorrow morning.’
‘How about tomorrow afternoon?’ I said, as we started winding our way through the meadow to where several dozen people were clustered by the new bridge. ‘I need to speak to Daniel in the morning.’
‘Oh?’ she asked. ‘Everything going okay?’
‘I think so.’I hoped so!I watched Daniel hand the ceremonial scissors to Frank and Eddie. As they officially reopened the footbridge, to resounding cheers, I felt grateful that Nora was sneering over the stalls back in the orchard, and not ruining this special moment.
By the time the hundreds of rubber ducks were bumbling their way downstream towards the village, however, she’d tottered her way down towards the bank.
‘What is this?’ she asked, loud enough for most people to pause their conversations to stare at her.
‘It’s a duck race,’ Ziva replied, with an eye roll that suggested she didn’t know who was asking, or if she did, she wasn’t impressed.
‘But they aren’t even real ducks!’
‘No, because that would be cruel. Not to mention pandemonium,’ Luke said, after giving Becky a quick wink and a nod.
‘Well, thousands of plastic ducks—’
‘Three-hundred and sixty-one rubber ducks.’
‘A stupid number of whatever they are is hardly environmentally friendly!’ Nora retorted. ‘I imagine real ducks are considerably more biodegradable.’
‘These ducks are years old, borrowed from other duck races,’ Ziva cried, her face wrinkled in disgust.
To everyone’s relief, especially mine, Nora said nothing, instead waltzing off in the direction of the finish line.
‘What an odious woman.’ Ziva shuddered.
‘Ugh. I can see why you didn’t want her here,’ Becky said, lip curled in distaste in a startling imitation of her mother. ‘How could anyone bear to live like that. Making a career out of being horrible?’
‘I don’t know.’
I really didn’t. I couldn’t bear it, and at least I’d been polite and pleasant in person, saving my negativity for the page.
Becky looked over at Luke, her offended expression instantly replaced with a shy wave that Luke responded to with a secretive smile and a wink.
‘Are you able to man the cream teas for the last half hour?’ I asked. It was nearly four, and soon the Bridge Band would kick-off the evening festivities before we lit the feud funeral pyre.
‘No worries.’ Becky dragged her eyes away from Luke, and put her arm around my shoulders for a quick side-hug. ‘You look like you could do with taking five minutes.’
I hurried back up and through the orchard, making my way around the farmhouse to the arbour. Planning on collapsing onto one of the yellow cushions, I came to a stuttering stop.
Of course. Because Nora Sharp turning up here isn’t enough for one day.
One hand pressed against the top of my chest, the other one fumbling for the edge of the table. It felt as though every muscle was rendered numb, like an all-body pins and needles. My vision blurred, but I could still see the photograph, pinned to the back of the arbour by my favourite chopping knife.
