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.“You still look groggy.Will you be able to face the bazaar?”“It’ll help to take my mind off everything.Anyway, I couldn’t let Vivian down at this stage.”“We’d better think about having some lunch, then.”“I couldn’t –”“You’ll have a bowl of soup, at least,” said my sister-in-law firmly.“Even I can produce that, since I have a tin-opener handy! Now go and wash your face, it’ll make you feel better.” She gave me a gentle little push in the direction of the bathroom and went to locate the tin of soup.By the time we set off for St Stephen’s I had at least outwardly regained my composure.Inwardly, I was struggling to hold my mind above the abyss of conjecture which seethed just below the surface.I might have known Ray would lose no opportunity to humiliate either Neil or myself and I had made it ridiculously easy for him.He could never have hoped for so perfect an opening.The road outside the church was already lined with parked cars and a little procession of women, arms piled high with boxes and tins, was wending its way round the churchyard to the hall.Martha drew up behind the last car and we too set off with our offerings.A barrage of noise met us as we pushed open the door.Rudimentary stalls had already been erected and men up ladders were draping crêpe paper and fixing the names of the different stalls.Vivian, list in hand, was directing operations.“Chloe, what a gorgeous gâteau! You’re an angel! Put it on the centre table, would you, with the other raffle prizes.Your stall is the third on the left, and fancy goods is at the far end, Martha.” She turned to answer a query from someone hovering near and we obediently moved away.Martha introduced me to Sally Davidson, Linda Barton and Amy Carnforth, and in spite of myself I felt a flicker of interest at seeing Sheila Shoesmith again.She was small and fair, elfin-faced with a pointed chin and baby-blue eyes which kept blinking nervously.I wondered if she knew how widespread her most intimate secrets were.Amy had been transferred to my stall from the overstaffed stationery section.“Did you make all these yourself?” she asked, round-eyed.“They look just like bought cakes!” Which comment I assumed was meant as a compliment.As Vivian had told me, several people arrived with contributions of buns and pastries and when everything was laid out the counter looked most attractive.I was hardly aware of the actual opening of the bazaar but it gradually became apparent that people were wandering about in the body of the hall.A few children, presumably from the village school, enthusiastically partook of the Lucky Dip and the Hoop-La.They also cleared our stall of flapjacks.The vicar wandered over and Amy introduced him to me.He was obviously passionately interested in his tiny church and enquired whether I had seen the cross in the churchyard.I assured him that I had.“Others continue the legend, you know,” he told me, “in Andreas and Jurby, notably, and of course there’s a large collection of crosses at Maughold.Fascinating, fascinating!” And he wandered happily off.Business on the cake stall became brisker and I realized suddenly that it was five o’clock.The boys from St Olaf’s had arrived and in their wake the masters and those wives not actively engaged in running the bazaar.I tried to keep an eye open for Neil, but the hall was now crowded and it was impossible to see who was there.In any event he didn’t come near our stall.With the last scone sold and the money duly counted, Amy and I were free to move round to see what was left.Not much was; the bare tables were proof of a profitable afternoon.My legs were aching from standing for so long and probably as a result of my trauma that morning, my head had started to throb with dull persistency.“Chloe!” Martha was at my side.“Your cakes were a wow! Everyone’s talking about them.“How soon can we get away?”“The raffle will be drawn at six – in about ten minutes – and after that we can go.We just hand the money and price tickets to Vivian and hope they tally! The men dismantle the stalls so we don’t have to see to that.”“Is Hugo here?”“No, he suggested it would be more sensible if he went straight home and had dinner waiting for us.”The raffle was duly drawn and the prizes distributed.None of my tickets was of any use [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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