Page 67 of Summer at Harbour View House
‘So, how are we doing for tickets?’ Ben asked.
Natasha grinned. ‘We’re closing on five thousand, and they’re still going. Lizzie told me the story got picked up by a national newspaper. She told me that she named Paul Stoat as the evil property developer trying to destroy the village, and there are whole websites being set up to shame him.’
‘It won’t make a difference,’ Ben said. ‘If it wasn’t him, it would be someone else. It’s not just about keeping him from buying up the village. It’s about changing the attitudes of people. Local people need to value their properties more, and people selling up need to show some integrity in selling to people who will appreciate where they live. They need to understand that second homes and holiday lets are cutting the hearts out of communities like this.’
‘Perhaps you should stand for the council.’
Ben laughed. ‘You think?’
‘Absolutely. I think you’d do a great job.’
‘I can’t really talk when I spend most of my winters overseas.’
‘Yeah, but your family’s still local.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Plus, you’re a celebrity.’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘I’d vote for you.’
‘Really?’
Natasha’s cheeks flushed, and she was just searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t awkward when Jan came wandering over, drying her hands on a tea cloth.
‘Lad, there you are. Just had your old man on the phone. He’s been down the beach but couldn’t find you.’
‘What’s up?’
‘He’s just been down to St. Austell to pick up ten rented port-a-loos, and he needs help getting them set up.’
Natasha patted him on the arm before she knew what she was doing. ‘Duty calls,’ she said.
‘You’re not busy this afternoon, are you?’
‘Well, I—’
‘Hesitation counts as a no. Plus, a bit of lifting and carrying will help burn off that ice-cream.’
‘You cheeky sod.’
The festival site was in a sodden field adjacent to the campsite. An open stage had been set up in one corner, with a line of port-a-loos standing along the far hedge like giant’s teeth. Flags indicated where food vans and other attractions would go.
‘We’re gonna put King James right ‘ere by the gate,’ Jago said proudly, puffing out his chest. ‘Five quid a pic. All proceeds to the village.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ Natasha said.
Jago’s smile dropped. ‘Conversely, a bit of bad news.’ He held up his hand, displaying a bandage on his left forefinger. ‘Got me finger caught in the thresher, skimmed the top clean off. Puts me out of the show, I’m afraid.’
Natasha glanced at Ben, who shrugged. ‘That’s remarkably convenient,’ she said.
‘I wasn’t doing so good anyways,’ Jago said.
‘So, we’re going for a tape for the Curve’s parts, then,’ Natasha said.
‘Proper job,’ Jago said, giving a nervous smile.
