Page 71 of The Fete of Summer

“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.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Auction

As daylight drained from the sky, the fairground stalls and rides became inanimate silhouettes around the green as the first stars lit up the heavens. Unbroken sunshine had defined the day. The committee had agreed to continue using the brightly lit outside stage next to the beer tent to host the date auction. An eager crowd already packed the space, socialising and in good spirits, waiting for the show to begin.

With the participants’ consent, the technical crew arranged to project the player’s calendar page onto the screen, filling the entire back of the stage as each of them took the stage. Helen Monash and Clifton had insisted on hosting the auction and taking bids from audience members. Nathan half suspected they did so because camera crews had remained behind to capture footage of the final event. Nathan had noticed Clifton’s manager, Giorgio, busying himself around the grounds, quietly managing the media.

Five minutes before the auction began, Nathan stood among the players on the grass areas at the back of the stage, sharing in their nervous excitement while Arlene gave a pep talk. He smiled, watching as everyone paid careful attention. In the end, all players had agreed to take part, even though some who were married or in relationships, like Mikey, had only consented after being jollied along by their partners and teammates.

“Gentlemen. We’ve already had an astonishing success here today—from a financial, entertainment and publicity perspective—and could happily dispense with the auction. But listen to that buzz out there. That’s all for you and I don’t think it would be fair for us to disappoint the crowd. And, just to reassure you, I have asked Helen to remind bidders that this is about having a nice meal with you. Or with you providing an hour of your professional service if that’s more beneficial to the bidder and mutually agreeable. Not you, of course, Mr Hillwood.”

Norris Hillwood, the gynaecologist who lived locally but worked at Mayfield General, grinned broadly, but the other men standing around laughed aloud. Nathan marvelled at Arlene, who had managed to defuse the tension with her usually absent humour. Something had changed, and he wondered if the shift had something to do with her husband. Or perhaps she had finally fallen under Crumbington’s timeless spell.

“I appreciate that many of you are not entirely comfortable with this, but some things must be done for the greater good. If you’re thinking to yourself that it’s easy for me to say that as a bystander, then you should know that I am not without my battle scars today. I, too, have played my part. Some of you may be aware that I spent an hour being submerged in icy water and had to change clothes four times. That is also why I’m currently wearing this ridiculous turban and why, despite many attempts to rectify my makeup, I resemble a raccoon.”

Arlene’s words caused another ripple of laughter among the men. Nathan felt sure he heard Mikey mutter the words ‘good sport’ to one of the players.

“My advice to you, when you’re up there on stage, is to think of who you’ll be helping, both locally and internationally. The children of St Joseph’s School, St Mary’s Church restoration fund and the international Save The Children charity. Although we haven’t had a chance to tally everything, I know we’ve already raised almost six thousand pounds from calendar sales alone, and that’s all down to you. You’re a fine-looking group of men, and if it weren’t for the fact my darling husband would probably never speak to me again, I’d stump up six hundred pounds right now and take the lot of you out for a nice steak dinner. Now, go out there, have fun, and enjoy yourselves—and before you go, give yourselves a rousing cheer.”

Everyone joined in loudly, and the sound not only silenced the waiting crowd on the other side of the stage but must have been the signal for the hosts—Helen and Clifton—because they immediately launched into their spiel for the beginning of the auction.

Ken Mills, the model for January, should have gone first, but after a good scout around and several phone calls, which simply went to voicemail, they decided to begin with February. Nathan and the rest of the team watched from the side of the stage. When poor Mikey Shanton stepped out into the lights and was met with wild applause, wolf whistles and a sea of grinning faces, he tried his best to maintain his composure, but Nathan could see he looked nervous, bordering mortified. Helen Monash stepped forward and spoke the words written on her cue card.

“Our February model is Michael Shanton, the village butcher. Michael has served the community proudly for over thirty years, providing sources of protein to keep us strong and fit. And as you can see from his photograph, it certainly hasn’t done him any harm. Although Michael is not single—those who live here in Crumbington will know his lovely wife, Mary—he has agreed to either have a meal out with someone or to use his culinary skills to cook the successful bidder a nice dinner. Michael promises he can cook any meat of your choice, or—his words—if the person is not a meat-eater, he makes a mean vegan three-bean pie. Who will start the bidding at a very reasonable fifty pounds?”

“Two hundred pounds,” called Mary, his wife, her hand raised in the air holding fifty-pound notes, her eyes darting around the crowd, daring anyone around her to outbid her.

Those around her laughed aloud, and a few burst into applause. Mikey shook his head at his wife, but his endearing smile said everything. Seeing her bid, Nathan felt sure nobody would dare try to better her, and thankfully, nobody did. When Mikey stepped off the stage and, very publicly, gave his wife a lingering kiss and a hug, a huge cheer filled the air.

Most of the bidding went as expected—wives or girlfriends bidding for their other halves—but there were a few surprises. Standing onstage, divorced Dennis Abraham, the local plasterer, started a heated bidding war between two middle-aged women. One of the men whispered to Nathan that they had both dated Dennis. Arlene—the self-appointed auctioneer—called out rather loudly to Helen to remind the audience that the auction was only for dinner, nothing more, which caused a roar of laughter. When the bid reached two hundred and seventy-five pounds, the smaller of the women caved in and muttered something only those around could hear, but which also caused a ripple of laughter.

The show continued with Benny Cheung, the mechanic, Gupta Mahtani, lawyer, Bob Collier, publican, George Collier, postman, Mel Slubowski, gardener, Norris Hillwood, gynaecologist and Ken Mills—when he finally appeared. All of them were bid upon and won by their respective partners.

Single guys Carlton and Jaden Dillon, the family painting and decorating team, provided further drama. A beautiful woman nobody recognised bet on Carlton—the slightly taller of the twins—starting the bidding at a respectable six hundred pounds, a sum nobody challenged which silenced everyone in the crowd. Her bid also had poor Carlton appearing totally sheepish. Gossip spread through the crowd like wildfire about who this woman could be. Surely nothing could top that.

---