Page 61 of The Little Island Flower Stall
She followed him, noting another couple jump into their seats as soon as they’d left them. ‘At least we’ve done someone a favour,’ she said, nodding behind her.
He grinned. ‘Our good deed for the day. What do you fancy then? I’m not sure what’s on at the other stages.’
‘I fancy’ – she pulled down her cap and grinned – ‘something more suited to this outfit. I want to party like it’s 1945!’
He stopped and inspected a flyer stuck to a wall with the itinerary of the day printed on it. ‘There’s an orchestra doing some Glenn Miller stuff. If that doesn’t scream 1945, then I don’t know what will.’
‘Perfect! I mean, I don’t know a single Glenn Miller song, but I’m up for giving it a look.’
‘You don’t know any Glenn Miller?’
‘Who does?’
‘I do! “Chattanooga Choo Choo”? “Moonlight Serenade”? “In the Mood”?’
Bella shook her head.
‘You don’t even know “In the Mood”? Everyone knows that!’
He started to hum, and Bella burst out laughing.
‘OK,’ he said with a sheepish grin. ‘I’m sure that didn’t help. I never said I had a musical ear.’
‘Sorry, but you don’t have a musical mouth either! That’s like no tune I’ve ever heard! I doubt it’s like any tune that ever existed!’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’re not the first person to say it, so I’ll try not to take offence.’
Bella giggled. ‘I’m sorry. That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?’
‘Harsh but probably fair.’ He smiled down at her, and the urge to reach up and kiss him gripped her for the briefest moment. She could picture how it would look, could almost feel his lips warm and soft against hers, how it might taste. But then he turned back to the flyer. ‘Victory Square…do you know where that is?’
‘I’m not sure. I have a vague idea, but I’m sure if we wander around for long enough, we’ll stumble across it.’
‘And if not I’m sure we’ll find something we want to stick around for.’
‘My thoughts exactly. Then again, if we just listen out for something that sounds like a cat chasing a mouse across a keyboard, then I’ll be able to recognise it from your rendition.’
‘A man could get offended, you know.’
‘I’m sorry – I couldn’t resist it. No more insults from now on, I promise. As long as you don’t try to describe Glenn Miller to me in the form of song again.’
Bella paused to get her bearings and then began to walk away from the promenade in the direction of the town centre. She’d probably been to Victory Square loads of times, but she wasn’t in the habit of taking that much notice of all the street signs during her day-to-day wanderings.
‘OK,’ she said after a moment. ‘I think it’s this way.’
It wasn’t hard to find in the end. Once they’d made a few false starts, all they had to do was follow the smooth, brassy tones of a song that Bella recognised straight away even if she couldn’t name it. Hearing that music on today of all days was strangely atmospheric, and even as they drew closer, it sent a shiver down Bella’s spine. It was special, almost magical, so heavy with meaning and memory that it would take a harder heart than hers not to be affected. But as she looked up at Rory, she could see it in his face too. He might not have been born on Jersey either, and until a few months ago he hadn’t even been aware of his connection to the island, but Bella could see that he felt it now.
‘This is amazing!’ Bella said as they rounded a corner into the square to see the entire space was dominated by a stage, some seating around it and a dance floor where couples – some dressed for the period and some in modern clothing – were already sweeping each other around. For such a small orchestra, they were making one huge and mesmerising sound. Bella wasn’t particularly a fan of nostalgia, but she couldn’t help but get caught up in the atmosphere.
‘Would you like a drink now?’ Rory pointed to a van selling various local ciders parked up at the opposite end of the square.
‘I’d love one.’
‘Want to find a seat and I’ll bring it over?’
Bella shook her head. ‘There’s plenty of seating. Besides, I don’t care about sitting down. I’ll come with you to see what they have.’
The sun had now set, and though the air was chillier, there were heaters dotted around the seating area and blankets left out on the chairs. The organisers seemed to have thought of everything. Yellow bulbs were strung around the space, casting a mellow light over it. The stage was lit in colour; it washed over the smartly suited members of the orchestra to lend even more atmosphere to the performance.
