Page 72 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
‘Very festive,’ Quentin remarked, as he contentedly sipped red wine from his seat on the buggy, surveying the crowd with amused interest. Glancing up at Peggy, he cocked an eyebrow.
She gave him an anxious look and blew out her cheeks.
Quentin seemed to understand. ‘Anyone says anything to upset you, I’ll run them over with my chariot.’
She couldn’t help laughing. For a long second Quentin gazed at her. ‘Sticks and stones, darling. Sticks and stones.’
Rory, who’d been talking to Liam, came over. ‘Hot dog, anyone?’
Quentin nodded vigorously. ‘No onion or ketchup, lots of mustard, please.’
Peggy didn’t have much of an appetite, although she’d barely eaten all day. She shook her head. Maybe she’d get some popcorn in a minute, although she wanted as little to do with Ted as possible right now.
Piers Norton, the vicar, came over while Rory was queuing at the food truck. ‘Hello, Quentin… Peggy,’ he said, in his habitually mild tone. Then his face lit up and he said dreamily, ‘Marilyn Monroe. Now there’s a beautiful spirit. Innocent, open, a shining light. She deserved better.’
Peggy was surprised, and she could see from his expression that Quentin was too. ‘Didn’t take you for a Monroe fan-boy, Vicar,’ he commented.
‘You’ve heard rumour of my hair shirt and scourge, then?’ Piers asked, straight-faced, snookering Quentin’s teasing.
‘And your turgid sermons about the sins of the flesh,’ Quentin countered.
The vicar raised a hand. ‘Objection… hearsay! Thewitness has never set foot in my church, m’lud, except to admire the rose window. He has no knowledge whatsoever of my sermons, turgid or otherwise.’
Quentin roared with laughter. ‘Touché, Piers. You win!’
Peggy laughed too. She was enjoying the banter, particularly as she hadn’t been party to the vicar’s sense of humour before.
The spaces for cars were all taken now, the benches packed with people happily munching. It was pretty much dark and Peggy was dying for the film to start. Liam had wandered off and was talking to some young sailing types she didn’t know. So far she’d spoken to only a few people. But she gradually began to appreciate that they weren’t all obsessed with PEGGY GILBERT’S EMAILS. Nor were they queuing up to point the finger, give her surreptitious looks or pitying stares. They were just out in the lovely June evening, enjoying a special treat: a film delivered to the village, when the nearest cinema was a ferry ride away. She had magnified herself in their eyes, as if she and her problems were ten feet tall and etched in neon lights– the absolute focus of the whole community. Realizing this was not the case, although not removing the problem, certainly helped her feel a little more relaxed.
Paul passed, dressed in a bright blue and yellow Hawaiian shirt. She said hello and he stopped. ‘Fun time last night,’ he said, with a mischievous grin.
Peggy pulled a face. ‘Loved it. Got into a bit of trouble this morning, though.’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, my head was on back to front when I woke up! Strong stuff, right?’ He waved as he strode off– clearly busy tonight– and was now bent over the speakers tothe side of the huge screen, in an intense conversation with the technician in charge of projection. Looking around for Sienna, Peggy caught sight of her sitting alone on the far wall, swinging her long hair and long legs, talking to no one.
A few minutes later, Paul was clapping his hands. ‘Ding, ding, ding! Okay, everyone. Five minutes to kick-off.’ The crowd cheered and started scurrying around, getting extra bags of popcorn and more drinks, adjusting the cushions they’d brought to be comfortable on the hard benches, wrapping themselves in jackets and woollens, as the evening was cooling now it was dark.
Peggy, after another quick check of the assembled company, could see no sign of Lindy or her family.Maybe she’s grumpy that she didn’t get her choice of movie, she mused, relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with her tonight.
The screen sprang to life. The audience fell silent as the opening credits rolled. Then, just as the first image came up, showing the gangsters in the hearse– all with laughably pronounced broken noses– being shot at from the speeding police car behind, Peggy’s attention was caught by the shadows of a group of latecomers. They were hurrying round the edge of the car park to squeeze themselves onto the bench she was on at the back, with Rory and Liam, Quentin in his buggy to her right. Ted was watching the movie from a chair beside the van, Bolt asleep in his basket at his feet– she hadn’t spoken to him since he had politely rejected her offer of help. The latecomers, it transpired, when they emerged from the shadows, their faces lit by the glow from the big screen, were Lindy and family– although Kim was, as usual, absent. Peggy turned back to the fictional action with a small sigh.
The movie, which Peggy hadn’t seen in years, was as thoroughly entertaining as she remembered. Marilyn– ‘Jell-O on springs’, as Jack Lemmon so accurately observed– was magical. Peggy understood what Piers meant by her being ‘innocent’ and ‘open’, Lemmon and Tony Curtis her perfect foil. It was clear the audience was transfixed and enjoying every second.
A sigh of satisfaction and enthusiastic applause greeted the classic closing line from Osgood Fielding III. Then Lindy leaped to her feet, everyone turning to watch as she began to speak in the half-light. ‘I’m sure you all agree, Paul has done a brilliant job tonight. Thank you for this lovely treat, Paul. It’s been a wonderful evening and we can’t thank you enough for your generosity, and all the work you’ve put into making it such fun. Thank you so much.’ She seemed comfortable and self-assured, Peggy thought, in her usual role as queen of the village.
More applause burst out, during which Paul took a self-conscious bow, then moved quickly off to consult with his technician again– who, moments later, switched on the string of light-bulbs lining the car park. The audience stood and began stretching out cramped muscles, yawning, gathering up their belongings and their food rubbish in the half-light. Everyone was chattering and laughing about the film. The parked cars started up and began carefully manoeuvring out between the pedestrians. The evening was over: Paul could be seen helping to collapse the screen by undoing the hinge support bars with the lads who’d served the wine. Then they all began to load the projection equipment into the back of a black Transit.
A group of stragglers lingered by the food trucks,although the hot dogs and popcorn were no longer on offer, the wine almost gone. Ted had closed Henri– he said he would clean up properly in the morning– and came over to join Peggy. He looked exhausted.
She gave him a quick kiss. ‘Well done. You did a great job.’
He smiled and nodded his thanks, briefly taking her hand in his. But she could see his eyes were still wary of her.
Lindy, Felix and a yawning Ada, clutching her father’s hand, had also joined them by the wine table. Peggy watched Felix grab one of the remaining cups of red as a lad she’d seen a few times at the farm shop started packing everything away. He knocked it back in a couple of gulps.
Lindy wrapped Peggy in a fierce hug. ‘Howareyou, dear?’ Her eyes were full of a sympathy Peggy didn’t wish to acknowledge right now, not from Lindy.
Instead she focused on Ada. ‘Did you enjoy the film, sweetheart?’
