Читать книгу Ice Creams at Carrington’s - Alexandra Brown, Lindsey Kelk - Страница 10

I make it to the town hall with just five minutes to spare after getting caught up on a Skype call with the editor from the magazine – she wanted to chat a bit more about my new idea for a What’s In Your Handbag piece for next week. It’s Nicole Scherzinger and it’s going to be shamazing for sure. Her people were very generous in supplying a list detailing the contents of her designer bag.

‘If you’re here for the regatta meeting then you’d better get a move on.’ There’s an enormous desk just inside the door with two security men in black uniforms lounging behind it. The older one with the bushy grey hair and the lovely Corrie accent stands up. ‘You’re the last one, duck,’ he says with a smile. ‘Second on the right.’ I head in the direction of his pointing finger.

‘Thank you,’ I breathe, pulling my scarf off as I go – it’s like a sauna in here. I find the room and push through the double doors.

‘Ahh, here she is, the famous Georgie Hart from Carrington’s department store.’ Oh God, it’s the scowly-woman-with-no-name standing on a stage with a pen poised. She snaps up a clipboard and gives it a big firm tick before treating me to an extra-special scowl.

‘Hello,’ I mouth, giving her my best eyes-and-teeth grin, figuring it best to kill her with kindness – Mum swore by it, and that old adage that you ‘catch more flies with honey than vinegar’. She pretends not to have noticed, so I scan the room instead. There must be at least twenty people in here, sitting on plastic chairs in rows, and they’re all staring at me.

‘Um, hi. Hello.’ I do a feeble little wave but nobody reciprocates, so for some ridiculous reason, I quickly add, ‘Sorry I’m late.’ I glance over at the wall clock opposite and there are still five minutes to go before the meeting officially starts, so why on earth am I apologising? But they all look so serious.

I spot an empty seat, right in the front row and opposite the stage. I dive into it, grateful to be out of the spotlight, but conscious of the scowly woman’s beady eye boring down into me.

‘Right, so where were we?’ she huffs, rustling her papers excessively, as if to labour the point of my perceived lateness.

‘You were saying how important punctuality is, given that we don’t have an awful lot of time left to organise the event. Every second counts!’ someone behind me pipes up.

‘Yes, that’s right, and if you could all pay attention too. We really do have our work cut out if we’re to pull this off within just a few months. To be honest, it’s more or less going to be impossible, but then, what could we do?’ The scowly woman sighs and shakes her head, clearly exasperated. ‘We only got the go-ahead last week – one of the biggest sponsors did keep us waiting rather a long time …’ She harrumphs a bit more before shooting me another look.

‘Carrington’s,’ someone mutters. Oh, this just gets better. So I’m the reason the pressure is on. I make a mental note to talk to Tom later to find out exactly what’s been going on.

‘Right, let’s get on with it. We’ve done the introductions – Georgie, I’m Meredith, Mr Dunwoody’s personal secretary, as you already know. You’ll have to catch up with everyone else later.’ Cue another sniffy look, this time accompanied by a pointy finger. Hmm, so who made her the boss of us? ‘So, quick recap, we know Mulberry Yacht Club is in charge of all the sailing events and races; they’ll be organising the entry forms, legalities and brochures too, detailing the programme of events. Now, as a quick aside – if any of you would like to place a business advert in the brochure, then please speak to Bob, the harbour master.’ Meredith points to a rosy-cheeked guy in a chunky-knit Aran sweater who leaps up and waves both hands above his head like he’s air traffic control marshalling a jumbo jet into landing. Steady on! ‘But in your own time, please!’ She coughs. ‘This leaves us to sort out the stalls and fun events, which will take place around the marina’s perimeter and on either side of Wayfarer Way, the main road from the town centre, taking in the market square and leading on to the marina.’

‘But what about the new industrial estate?’ a guy behind me heckles.

‘What about it?’ Meredith says, officiously.

‘Seems all the action is in town, so none of the regatta visitors are going to bother with us and I’m only here to see about drumming up more business,’ the guy huffs, before muttering something about his new indoor amusement arcade that’s ‘right next door to Asda so you’d think it’d be heaving’, but is ridiculously quiet. He stands up, causing his chair to make a hideous scraping sound across the floor, before shoving his hands in his pockets and lumbering off.

‘So, any more ideas?’ Meredith dismisses, seemingly unfazed as the arcade guy lets the door slam behind him. A few people stick up their hands, but Meredith just keeps on talking. ‘The various youth groups – Brownies, Guides, Scouts, Sea Cadets, etc., are already busy organising floats for the carnival procession, which will parade through town ahead of the official opening of the regatta. And in addition to this marvellous event, we’ve come up with …’ She pauses to refer to her clipboard, ‘Yes, that’s right – beer tent, tombola, welly throwing, lucky dip, wet sponge throwing at the mayor, guess the name of the teddy bear …’

Oh, God help us.

‘Donkey rides?’ someone at the back shouts out.

OK, a bit better. I make a mental note to cross that idea off my list.

‘Don’t forget the mini-music festival.’ This is much more like it. I glance along my row to see who is speaking – it’s a guy with a Bob Marley T-shirt and a big boffin beard.

‘Hmm, a bit ambitious …’ Meredith shakes her head and actually sucks in air, like a plumber denouncing the state of a broken washing machine – I half expect her to launch into a long, boring explanation of what actually constitutes ‘ambitious’ too! But luckily, Bob Marley jumps in instead.

‘Not at all. The radio station has all the equipment and we’ve already got confirmation from a few local bands. But what we really need is a big name to headline …’ Ah, I bet he’s from Mulberry FM. How exciting.

‘Well, let’s not get too hasty, I’m not sure everyone wants—’ Meredith starts, before she’s interrupted by the woman sitting next to me, wearing a leopard-print bomber jacket and denim skinnies, who has the biggest treacle-coloured beehive I’ve ever seen.

‘Oooh, I don’t know, I reckon people love a good knees-up, and we’re always rammed on band night,’ she says in a cracking cockney accent.

‘That may be the case in the …’ Meredith pauses again to check her notes.

‘The Hook, Line and Sinker,’ the beehive woman prompts. ‘It’s a new pub, and we’re right at the entrance to the marina. Oooh, I’ve got an idea!’ A short silence follows.

‘Do enlighten us, dear, we’re not exactly time rich,’ Meredith says in a monotone voice as she glances at the wall clock.

‘Weeeell,’ the woman starts, sounding really excited. ‘We’d be perfect to host the mini-music festival. Our beer garden backs out directly onto the beach, and we could rope off a section and install a stage.’ Fab, this is much more like it. ‘Music and beer on tap, what’s not to love?’ She claps her hands together, seemingly pleased with the plan.

‘Yes, err, Beryl is it?’ Meredith purses her lips.

‘Cheryl, love. But you can call me Cher, everyone does. I’m the landlady.’

‘Hmm, well, OK, err … Cher. But it’s not as simple as just roping off a bit of the beach. You do need to have a proper public performance licence, not to mention that there are all kinds of health and safety laws to adhere to – it really could get quite tricky to manage,’ Meredith continues, tilting her head to one side, and talking as if she’s placating a toddler.

‘No problem, I have that all in place,’ Cher beams, twiddling a finger around the inside of her massive gold hoop earring.

‘And any rubber-stamping will be made a priority, of course.’ A guy in a suit sitting at the end of my row jumps in. ‘Plus I’d like to take this opportunity to assure you all that parking will be free across all of the town’s car parks for the duration of the regatta, and we’ll be liaising with the police, St John Ambulance, etc., and setting up the usual services – mobility scooter hire, children’s security wristbands, etc. And I’m personally in charge of sorting out the Red Arrows – they always go down a treat.’ He pauses. ‘Well, err, not literally of course, because that would be catastrophic. No, a crash landing really wouldn’t do … eek!’ He pulls a face and shrugs apologetically before sitting back down.

‘That’s Matt from the council – he’s all right though,’ Cher whispers, leaning into me. I smile – she seems really nice. Glancing along the row, I catch Matt’s eye and he gives me a welcoming nod. Perhaps this will still be fun, after all.

‘Just need a proper pop star now,’ the Mulberry FM guy says.

‘I might be able to help with that,’ I suggest, eager to do my bit.

‘Oh?’ Meredith quips.

‘He’s not really a mainstream pop star, though.’ Silence follows. I’m sensing they’re not impressed, but hold on, there’s more. ‘Yes, the person I have in mind is a Mulberry local too. He’s a country singer and mega-famous. I’m sure he’ll help out if he can,’ I add, sensing a bit of excitement in the room now – people behind me are whispering and fidgeting.

‘Is it Dan Kilby by any chance?’ the Mulberry FM guy asks hopefully, and the whispering gets louder.

‘Yes, that’s him, do you know him too?’ I ask, leaning forward.

‘No, not personally. I’m Jared, by the way,’ he smiles.

‘Nice to meet you, Jared,’ I grin back.

‘I’ve tried to get him into the station a few times for a live on-air interview, but never quite managed to bring it all together. He’s definitely a crowd-puller, though; everyone loves him. It would be awesome, and real kudos for Mulberry, and Carrington’s too, if you really could pull it off and get him to agree to a live set.’

‘I’d better make the call right away then – probably best to give him as much notice as possible.’ I pull a pad and pen from my bag – once I had finished with my clients in the VIP suite earlier today, I popped downstairs to Stationery and bought four A4 notepads, a box file, a gorgeous soft brown leather pencil case, a bumper pack of multicoloured Post-it notes and a selection of different-coloured pens. I love stationery – who doesn’t? Plus, I thought it best to be properly organised in any case. Taking a red pen from my pencil case, I add ‘Call Dan’ to my ‘Immediate things to do’ list, and then do a squiggle around it with a turquoise mini-highlighter – I’ve got a combination of colour codes for all my tasks, ranging from green to red, depending on urgency and level of importance to Carrington’s.

‘The budget is limited, though – we can only cover travel and refreshments, I’m afraid,’ Matt says, making a sorry face.

‘But the radio station would be happy to cover modest additional expenses for someone as high profile as Dan,’ Jared adds.

‘And I reckon I could get budget from the Carrington’s board – they really are keen for this to be a huge success,’ I say, knowing how important it is for Carrington’s to foster good relationships within the community. I’m sure I can get Tom to organise a bit of extra money if necessary. I make a mental note to call Dan first thing tomorrow morning. If I can get him involved, then that will get me off to a flying start, not only with the rest of the committee, but with Isabella too. She’s bound to be impressed by my A-list connection – I bet her fancy-pants party planner, Sebastian, doesn’t know Dan Kilby personally. Oh no!

‘Hold on. How do you even know Mr Kilby?’ Meredith says in an incredulous voice.

‘Well, he and I, err …’ I pause, wondering just how much I should divulge – things were shaky between Tom and me at the time. It was right at the start, we hadn’t been seeing each other properly for very long, and then Tom disappeared to Paris. I thought he had dumped me and was getting engaged to an old flame – and then with my two-and-two-makes-five thing thrown into the mix … well, luckily it all turned out to be a massive misunderstanding, but that’s a whole other story. Anyway, Kelly the retail guru set it up – a showmance, if you like. ‘Dan was involved in the TV show too,’ I finish lamely, not really wanting to talk about my convoluted love life in this very public forum. I had enough of being in the media spotlight when I was a reluctant reality TV star, with my ‘highlights’ plastered all over YouTube every week.

‘Oh, that’s right. I remember the episode – loved it! You were dressed up proper classy, and that Dan is a real dish,’ Cher says, swivelling in her seat so the people in the back rows can hear her too. I hold my breath, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut now; and I can already see Meredith pursing her lips disapprovingly. ‘He snogged you on the bandstand, a proper Hollywood film kiss it was too. Sooo romantic.’ I open my mouth, but before I can explain that the kiss was just for show (Dan had spotted a pap lurking nearby with a long-lens camera), Cher continues, ‘You must pop into the pub one night and have a drink on me.’

‘Oooh, yes please, I’d love to,’ I smile, feeling relieved to be chatting about something else. Not that anything ever happened between Dan and me. He’s a really lovely guy, hot and cool in a cowboy-kind-of-way. All leather jeans, checked shirt and guitar slung casually over his shoulder. Very Gunnar Scott in Nashville. We just had a bit of fun; it was never going to be anything more. I was already in love with Tom by then … even if we weren’t properly together.

‘That’s sorted then—’ Cher starts, before Meredith coughs impatiently.

‘Err, excuse me, ladies! We do have a very tight schedule to get through, so if you can organise drinking sessions in your own time, please.’ Meredith does a sarcastic smile. I inhale sharply and let out a long breath, as if to clear my head, thinking, what is her problem? She clearly hates Carrington’s, and me, but what I want to know is, why? She got sacked years ago and has obviously moved on into a good job, so why is she still so bitter? ‘So, before we wrap up, are there any more ideas?’

‘Yes, I have a few.’ After grabbing another notepad from my bag, I flick open the cover. ‘I made a list,’ I explain, waving the pad around like a looper and wondering if I should quickly power up my iPad mini – I’ve made a Pinterest board too, titled ‘Carrington’s Regatta’, and found loads of brilliant nautical-slash-festival-slash-summer-slash-ice cream-slash-carousel-slash-cake-themed pictures to really get us in the mood. I could pass the iPad around so everyone can see … But on clocking Meredith’s glazed look, I push the iPad back inside my bag and will my cheeks to stop flaming. I get on with just reading out the ideas instead. I’ll save Pinterest for another time – doesn’t hurt to have a ‘double debut’, as it were.

‘OK, here goes.’ I clear my throat and Cher nudges me gently with encouragement. ‘We could have food stalls selling a variety of delicious delights.’ I pause to see if I’m on the right lines, but nobody says a word. I’m just about to carry on when someone pipes up, ‘As long as the fancy stuff is well away from my burger vans.’ It’s a man with a bandana around his head.

‘Err …’ I start.

‘Yes, don’t worry. We’ll draw up a map of who goes where,’ Meredith huffs impatiently, and then motions for me to continue.

‘And a selection of cakes from Cupcakes At Carrington’s. My best friend Sam owns the café and her cakes are legendary – people travel from all over for them, so they’re bound to be a huge hit.’ Silence follows. Perhaps I’ve got it wrong, and they’d prefer more of a ‘village fete’ event after all – guess the weight of the homemade cake, that kind of thing, to go with the welly throwing. Only, I’m not sure my customers will get excited by that, and I have to do my best for Carrington’s. It’s the reason I’m here, after all, plus I can’t imagine Isabella being impressed by a small-town fete, not when she’s used to commissioning Botticelli murals just for an afternoon soirée. Tom told me later that the yacht is usually adorned in framed watercolours, but Isabella fancied a change, so a team of interior designers were flown in from Milan to carry out the temporary transformation. Botticelli has since been whitewashed over and the framed prints put back in place. So, no no no! We must up our game.

‘I had afternoon tea in the Carrington’s café,’ someone eventually says. ‘And it was actually very nice.’ Fab. I beam. ‘A bit on the pricey side, though!’ Hmm, and my smile fades.

‘But worth it if the cakes are as good as Georgie says,’ Cher chips in, and I want to hug her.

‘Exactly. And we can have lots of cake stalls dotted around town to suit all budgets,’ I say, ‘and there are loads of cafés and cake places in Mulberry, so everyone will have a chance to get involved if they want to.’

‘It’s a good idea, but don’t canopies cost a fortune to hire? Being a start-up, we just don’t have the money, and it’ll be sweltering without any shade.’ Ahh, it’s the woman from the new bakery. I smile and she smiles back.

‘Carrington’s can help – provide canopies, or how about a number of food marquees big enough for several stallholders to share? I’m sure the visitors and tourists on the day will welcome the shade, too, while they peruse all the delicious food on offer,’ I grin, remembering the email I got earlier from the board saying that they’ve already done a deal with a local marquee hire company for this exact reason. So everyone wins – the hire company, the local food suppliers and Carrington’s – which in return for covering the hire cost will have the store logo on a select few canopies (having it on all of them would just be ridiculous and defeat the purpose of this being a whole community endeavour – something Carrington’s is keen to be seen to be supporting). And it wasn’t that long ago that Carrington’s was struggling and very nearly went under. If it hadn’t been for the loyalty of the local community – coming in store to buy school uniforms, a special birthday present, treating themselves to afternoon tea in Sam’s café or a pedicure in the spa, then we most definitely wouldn’t have made it. It all adds up. It’s thanks to them that we’re now in a position to support others who might still be struggling in this economical climate.

‘I’m definitely in,’ the woman from the bakery beams, and a few other people all smile and nod in agreement.

‘Fab. And I thought perhaps a mini-film festival,’ I move on. Meredith sniffs with disapproval – I take a deep breath; I can sort of understand why she might be a bit down on Carrington’s, but it’s not my fault she got caught out, in flagrante as it were, with the Heff. ‘And old-fashioned pop-up ice-cream vendors.’

‘Ooh, that sounds lovely. I can picture it now, all candy-striped awnings and swirly Mr Whippy cones with sprinkles on top,’ Cher says, nudging me again.

‘Yes, that would be brilliant, and we could even have a special limited-edition Mulberry Regatta ice-cream flavour made – you know, like …’ I pause to catch my breath. ‘Of course, this is just off the top of my head – cinnamon, mulberries and cream for example,’ I say, feeling excited now, and if I’m not mistaken, a little buzz reverberates around the room. ‘And I was thinking a fleet of ice-cream vans would be good – the old-fashioned ones that chime tunes like “Greensleeves”.’ Cher nods and, feeling more relaxed, I add, ‘You know, my mum used to say the chime meant they’d run out of lollies …’

‘Mine too!’ Cher laughs. ‘Not for our regatta though, eh? We’ll make sure of it.’ She winks at me conspiratorially. Grinning, I carry on.

‘We could have them dotted all around Mulberry, and lining the route to the marina perhaps, like a welcoming party so people can buy an ice cream plus pick up a programme,’ I say, getting into the swing of things now.

‘Yes, good idea.’ It’s Matt from the council. ‘And that would save us having to draft in students from Mulberry College to stand around trying to flog the programmes. That’s what we usually do for our other major event – the switching on of the Christmas lights – but it’s not ideal as last time one of the environmental health officers found a big pile of programmes dumped in the bushes up on Mulberry Common.’ A tutting sound reverberates around the room, but at least they’re all getting involved now. I keep going.

‘And in line with the retro theme, I thought a carousel would be cool, like the ones you get at the funfair. And, last but not least, a guided tour of Carrington’s underground tunnels.’ An ultra-ominous silence follows this time. Oh God, I’ve lost them now.

‘Well, that’s quite a list. Is anyone interested in working with Georgie?’ Meredith asks the room, and I’m sure I spot a glint in her eye.

‘I would, love, but I reckon I’ll have my hands full with the music festival,’ Cher says, apologetically.

‘Me too. Sorry Georgie,’ Jared chips in.

‘And I’d like to do the donkey rides,’ someone else adds, and then, in turn, they each allocate themselves to the various ideas, all except mine.

‘Oh dear, looks like you’re on your own in that case,’ Meredith says. I gulp. Whaaaat? Surely she doesn’t think I can do everything by myself? I swivel around, desperate for volunteers.

‘We’ll do the film festival.’ A man in full combat gear stands up. ‘My staff will assume responsibility for this one,’ he adds, practically clicking his heels to attention.

‘Oh that would be fab, thanks so much.’ Relieved, I grin at the guy, and he nods as if to formally seal the deal.

‘Well, I guess it makes sense, seeing as you own the television shop,’ Meredith says quickly, desperate to claw back control.

‘That’s right. Mulberry Sound and Vision. We sell everything from home cinema systems to car audio equipment, and we have a specialist covert and surveillance department on the first floor,’ commando man corrects, and there’s definitely a hint of frostiness in his voice. Ha! So he’s got the cut of Meredith then. Good, maybe he can hunt her down when he’s next out on manoeuvres – or whatever it is he does dressed up in that gear. He even has a pouch on his belt, which I’m guessing real soldiers use for storing grenades – his has a mobile phone inside.

‘Yes, yes of course,’ Meredith mutters. ‘So, that’s settled then. Everyone know what they’ve taken responsibility for?’ She does a cursory glance around the room before snapping her clipboard shut. ‘Good, because I for one am parched. See you all next time – details will be emailed out. And do come with project plans – supplier names, costs and itineraries, that kind of thing, so we can go through them and get everything approved with the various authorities.’

Matt jumps up and turns to face us all. ‘Before you all go – I’ve invited representatives from the emergency services, health and safety, traffic control, etc., to join our next meeting, so if you have any queries you’ll have a chance to ask questions or get clarification. And then we can all get cracking on making Mulberry’s first regatta a resounding success.’

‘Right you are – no time to waste. Cheerio!’ And with that, Meredith leaves the stage, pulls on her plum-coloured fleece and marches from the room with her clipboard tucked firmly under her arm.

Blimey, so it looks like I’m organising the Carrington’s tunnel tour, the ice-cream vans, and the food stalls then! Well, I’m going to need some help if I’m to pull this off – the regatta will be here in no time at all. I wonder if some of the other staff would like to help out – we could be hashtag Team Carrington’s, as Betty would say. She’ll help out, of course, and I reckon Annie will be interested, especially when she hears that Dan Kilby is headlining, and he’s bound to say yes, I just know he will. I could put a notice up in the staff room, asking for volunteers. I’ll head it up with #TeamCarringtons Needs You – it sounds more professional, and it has to be worth a go. But, hold on, what about the carousel? Oh my God, where on earth does one get a carousel? I quickly pull out a pad, write ‘CAROUSEL’ in big red capital letters, and underline it four times, before rummaging around inside my bag for the turquoise highlighter.