Seeing Stars by Christina Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

felt it might inflame Timmy’s latent passions a touch too much if she told him about
     it. ‘Probably just a bit of prickly heat. Now let’s go and feed the starving hordes before Constance stomps back in here and
     starts quoting the Trades Description Act.’
    As she walked outside, the midday sun momentarily blinded her. The heat rushed up from the parched grass and almost choked
     her. It felt like being immersed in a bath of hot treacle. Across the road the cottages slumbered, the village green shimmered
     in the broiling heat, and the stream which usually gurgled and bubbled through it before roaring under the road to reappear
     in a crystal torrent along the front of The Weasel and Bucket, was sluggish and slothful.
    All the Fiddlestickers were huddled beneath the huge umbrellas, clutching their glasses and staring across the green.

    Sliding three plates of sandwiches in front of the Motions, Zillah caught an eye-watering whiff of Marlboro Full Strength
     emanating from Slo’s Fred Perry tank top. As he’d promised Constance and Perpetua that he’d given up smoking on New Year’s
     Eve she was amazed that neither of them seemed to have yet sussed his secret. Maybe it was working with all that embalming
     fluid, she thought. It probably deadened the olfactory nerves.
    The Motions ignored the sandwiches and remained, well, motionless, their eyes all fixed on the green.
    Zillah, long past expecting anyone to say thank you, smiled at them anyway and wove her way between the trestles, kicking
     up little clouds of dust from beneath her sequinned flip-flops.
    ‘Pasty, Mrs J.’ Zillah slid the plate in front of Mrs Jupp who was sharing her rustic bench with four other villagers including
     the one-eyed churchwarden, Goff Briggs. ‘I’ll just make a bit of room …’
    None of them spoke or even acknowledged her as she cleared a space among the glasses. She simply sighed and after pushing
     strands of wayward hair back into her various combs and fanning her face, Zillah picked up a double handful of empties.
    ‘I ain’t quite finished with that, duck.’ Without taking his eye from the green, Goff Biggs snatched back his glass and guzzled
     the dregs. Only then did he look first at the table then at Zillah, his head, by necessity, askew like a parakeet. ‘Ah, that
     pasty smells good. Is that for Mona?’
    Zillah had always thought Mrs Jupp was aptly named.
    She nodded. ‘Timmy can do you one if you like.’
    ‘Ah, it’d go down a treat with a bit of piccalilli, thanks Zil, love.’
    ‘You’re welcome.’ She paused. ‘What on earth is going on out here? Why is everyone watching the green? Have I missed something?’
    Goff gave a throaty chuckle and closed his one eye in what passed for a wink. ‘Ah, you could say. We’re justwaiting to see what happens next.’
    ‘What happens next where?’
    ‘Over the road. At Moth Cottage.’ Goff crinkled his eye. ‘Goodness me, gel – with that snazzy city piece who’s moving in next
     door to you. With Gwyneth. Lewis has just dropped her off – and enough luggage for a good dozen people.’
    So that’s what Perpetua had reminded Constance about. Amber’s arrival. Of course, that would be Breaking News in Fiddlesticks
     – an event not to be missed.
    Zillah shivered suddenly. ‘And, um, what did she look like? And, er, did Lewis, um …?’
    ‘Lewis helped her with her bags and stuff,’ Mrs Jupp joined in at that point. ‘As you’d expect, him being a proper gentlemen
     even if he does look like one of them flaming scruffy long-haired rock and roll people. Then he jumped back into the van and
     took off. Anyway, Zillah, we’re not interested in Lewis – even if you are – so don’t interrupt.’
    At least Lewis hadn’t hung around. Zillah clung desperately to this morsel of comfort.
    ‘But what did she – Amber – look like?’
    ‘Phwoar!’ Goff’s eye watered lasciviously. ‘Legs up to ’er armpits. A little skirt no more than an inch