The Great Village Show Read Online Free PDF Page B

better. Surely you’ve noticed a dip in the number of people in and around the village, the High Street, the Duck & Puddle, Kitty’s tearoom? I was chatting to the vicar just a few days ago, and he said that even the congregation at his Sunday service is dwindling …’ His voice trails off.
    ‘Well, I hadn’t,’ I admit, ‘but now that you mention it, yes … it did seem quiet last time I popped into Kitty’s for a scone and a mug of hot chocolate. Why is that?’
    ‘I don’t know for sure, but I guess it’s inevitable with us having such a high number of elderly villagers – they pass on. And I reckon it’s also something to do with the new retail park that’s opened up on the other side of the valley, just past Market Briar. They have it all there – designer outlet shops, multiplex cinema, bowling, coffee chains, big-name restaurants; there’s even a hotel with a swimming pool and spa – my cosy little six-bedroom home-from-home B&B just can’t compete. And my guest numbers have definitely dipped since it opened.’
    ‘But not everyone wants all that high-tech, bells-and-whistles stuff. Surely there are lots of people who still love the cosy quirkiness of a traditional village, the personal touch that you offer at the B&B – not forgetting your award-winning breakfasts,’ I say, counting out the benefits on my fingers. Lawrence smiles. ‘And there must be lots of people who want to amble along our little High Street and watch the world go by through the mullioned windows of Kitty’s café, or thumb through some of the rare books in Adam’s bookstore. I know I do.’
    ‘I’m sure there are, but if they don’t know about Tindledale and all that we have to offer, then they can’t visit. A feature in a national newspaper is just what my B&B needs. And it’s about time you had some fun too.’
    ‘Exactly.’ I nod in agreement. ‘It’ll do me good to get involved in the village show and keep myself busy.’
    ‘Sure will. And broaden your horizons,’ Lawrence says slowly, as if gauging my reaction to a plan that he’s cooking up.
    ‘What is it?’ Silence follows. ‘Come on, what are you up to?’ I laugh, giving him a gentle dig in the ribs.
    ‘Later,’ Lawrence does a cryptic smile. ‘Let’s have some cake first,’ he adds, carefully lifting a scrumptious-looking individual lemon drizzle cake from the bag.
    I retrieve two bird-patterned tea plates from the dishwasher. Grabbing a couple of forks, too, I place them on the kitchen table and we sit adjacent to each other on the long padded window seat in the sun, arranging the assortment of homemade cushions behind us, plumping and patting until we’re both comfortable. Suddenly I feel lighter and more optimistic than I have in ages. ‘So, what’s new, Lawrence?’ I ask him, conspiratorially. ‘Any interesting guests at the B&B?’ I take a bite of the cake, which tastes divine – citrusy and sweet, but with just the right amount of sharpness too; Kitty sure is a cake-making queen. And Lawrence has been like a fairy godfather to me since he came to Tindledale twenty or so years ago – so, still a relative newcomer, compared to most of the other villagers whose families have been here for generations – and opened Tindledale’s first bed and breakfast, which has proved to be very popular with tourists, and a welcome boost to Tindledale’s economy. You’d be surprised how many pints of cider visitors can get through in the Duck & Puddle, and then there’s the locally sourced produce they all go mad for in the butcher’s and the fruit & veg shops in the High Street. And not forgetting Kitty’s tearoom – tourists can’t get enough of her afternoon teas with melt-in-the-mouth fruit scones, strawberry jam and deliciously thick cream, churned by Pete on his cattle farm down in the valley near Cherry Tree Orchard.
    Lawrence takes another mouthful of wine before doing a furtive left-then-right glance.
    ‘What is it? Or, should I