Page 41 of The Fete of Summer (Tales of Crumbington #1)
As they watched on, the second shot hit the opposite side of the target, this time much farther from the all-important bullseye, the pad that would release the chair. Again, the crowd moaned in unison.
On the final attempt Trevor took his time rubbing the ball along the outside of his jeans before standing perfectly still while sizing up the target.
Eventually, he pulled back his arm, lifted one leg like a baseball pitcher and let the ball fly.
The ball hit the target smack in the middle, dropping and submerging a satisfyingly shocked Arlene beneath the water in the Perspex bath.
With a gasp, she broke the surface amid loud applause and laughter.
Hats off to Arlene, she took the humiliation with dignity.
Helpers on the stand assisted her out of the vat onto the grass verge.
Mikey had pushed forward through the crowd and pulled the towel from his shoulder.
Arlene stood dripping wet, her hair stuck to her face like seaweed, her clothes bedraggled as though she had just been caught in a rainstorm.
“Sorry to drag you away,” said Polly. “But I thought you deserved to bear witness. Trevor’s captain of the school cricket team. Allegedly the best under fifteens bowler in the south of England.”
“You are pure evil, Polly.”
“Not me. We have Max Killroy to thank. He promised to donate money to the school for their new gym on the proviso that all senior teachers take a turn in the chair. And just to show goodwill, he persuaded his wife to take a turn for thirty minutes.”
“Good for him. He should have taken a turn himself.”
“He did,” said Mikey, who had returned after giving Arlene the towel. “First one up. And let’s just say, he’s a little large around the midriff and went in with one almighty splash. But this is the victim Polly wanted you to see. Oops, I spy someone coming over to talk to you.”
When Nathan turned in the direction of Mikey’s gaze, he saw a grinning Clifton heading towards the group. Before he reached them, someone stopped him to chat, so Polly leant in and whispered in Nathan’s ear.
“Remember to look shocked if he mentions the idea of buying the shop.”
Clifton managed to pull Nathan away to the small tent set up next to the stage, which was marked private and had a no-entry sign to keep out the general public. Checking nobody else was inside, Clifton began immediately.
“I’m guessing you know what this conversation is about.”
“And I’m guessing it’s not about you hijacking the launch party?”
Clifton had the decency to appear embarrassed.
“Look, I had no idea that was going to happen. Giorgio hustled Raul and me out of the hall into a waiting car the moment the lights went down. Told us we shouldn’t take the focus away from the event, that we’d have plenty of time to speak to the press on the day of the fête.
Of course, by morning, his little stunt was all over social media.
If I’d known, I never would have agreed to our attendance. ”
“Did that really happen? Was the video real or fake?”
“Real. From my college days. Courtesy of my bastard ex-roommate—the one I told you about—and his hidden handy-cam. Giorgio told me not to worry about the fallout, but I can’t help thinking it's the beginning of the end of my career.”
Nathan wasn’t so sure. With the video out in the public domain, Clifton's fans would sympathise. There would undoubtedly be anti-bullying and anti-trolling organisations happy to have Clifton as their spokesperson. Maybe coming clean about the experience might even provide him with some juicier roles. Had that been Giorgio’s intention all along?
“But that’s not what you wanted to talk to me about, is it? You pulled me in here to discuss buying the shop,” said Nathan
Nathan gave Clifton his best innocent look but couldn’t help the smile creasing his mouth.
“Polly Wynter is the least discreet woman I have ever met,” said Clifton, smirking too. “And I’ve met a few. She’s better at getting word out than any advertising media I’ve ever used. And a lot cheaper. So what do you say? About me buying up the bakery?”
“I would much rather you than a faceless corporation. And I wouldn’t expect to hand anything over right away, maybe have a six to twelve-month transition.
But do you know what you’re getting into?
I mean, who’s going to run the place? I want to pass the management on to someone who can be physically there. ”
“You don’t need to worry about that. I have some ideas that I think you might like. But that’s a conversation for another day. Arlene’s husband found out what the other side is offering you, by the way, and Giorgio suggested bettering their offer by ten per cent—”
“You don’t need to do that, Clifton.”
“I know. We both do. But I don’t want people thinking we’re calling in any favours, bearing in mind our history.
I really want to do this. For once in my life, I will have something tangible and enduring.
And while Raul and I have our home in San Diego, we would have a legitimate reason to visit Crumbington.
But it all depends on you, Nate. What do you think? ”
“What do I think, Mr Hogmore? I think we have ourselves a deal.”