Page 2 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

From what Kate understood, Cassie was beginning to realise organising an event on that scale wasn’t quite as simple as she’d thought it would be.

‘I’ve been doing some research,’ Cassie told her, ‘and I believe that men on ice-cream bicycles were rather popular in those days. My grandfather always used to talk about one that he chased when he was a boy. There was one that used to go around the village and I think it was old even then.’ She accepted the steaming cup of tea with a grateful smile. ‘So basically, I want a man on an ice-cream bicycle.’

‘A bicycle actually made out of ice-cream? Or one that sells ice-cream?’ Kate sat down at the other end of the pew and Cassie gave her an accusatory glare.

‘Stop mocking me, Kate. You know exactly what I mean.’

Kate laughed. ‘I’m just teasing. Sorry. Anyway, it just so happens I’ve got the very thing in the museum for you to borrow. Come on, I’ll take you through. You can bring your mug, it’s fine.’

‘Seriously?’ Cassie’s face split into a huge grin. ‘I knew I could count on you.’ She stood up. ‘Which house are we going to?’

‘It’s not in one of the houses, it’s in one of the barns. But we’ll take a short cut through the cottages. I know how much you love them. Just don’t spill the tea. I’m trusting you with my exhibits, okay?’

Cassie nodded, clasping both hands around her cup. ‘Ready when you are.’

‘Fine follow me.’

Kate led the way through the terrace, Cassie chattering about the fabulous weekend she envisaged and the inordinate amounts of cream scones and strawberries she thought might be required.

‘They are so popular,’ she said, but Kate wasn’t absolutely certain whether ‘they’ referred to the snacks or the weekends. From Cassie’s perspective, it might have been either; she loved her cakes and loved dressing up to fit the theme of the Living History weekends too.

‘Oh,’ Cassie continued, ‘and if there’s anything else you think I can borrow, I’m hoping to revamp the pool area as well. And the tennis courts. Our things are dropping to pieces.’ Kate sensed her friend had slowed down and she turned around to see where she was. She was correct. Cassie was ogling one of the museum displays — a pair of Edwardian tennis racquets in a press. ‘They are so much nicer than the ones we’ve got,’ she said covetously.

‘I’ll consider it,’ Kate said.

‘And those! Can I have those? Please?’ She was hovering by Kate’s favourite things in the entire museum; a pair of Victorian ice-skates, made out of soft white leather which laced up around tiny pearl buttons. Inked on the smooth leather interior of each boot was the word CAT.

Kate had no idea what the word meant, although she suspected it was a name. Perhaps they’d belonged to someone who had to write their name in so they didn’t get confused with anyone else’s skates. That was the beauty of living so close to the museum collection — if the real story wasn’t available, Kate liked to make up one that suited, just for herself. In this case, she quite liked the idea of perhaps a “Catherine” owning those skates; which was possibly another reason why she was so possessive over them.

‘No, you absolutely cannot have those!’ Kate was adamant. ‘For a start, the weekend celebrates the 1920s and 30s, doesn’t it? And the skates are Victorian. As well as that, it’s going to be August Bank Holiday, so the very last thing you want is enough ice and snow to be able to use the skates.’

‘The very last thing I want is a health and safety incident around the pool area,’ said Cassie wryly. She sighed, gazing at the skates. ‘But they are beautiful, aren’t they?’

‘They are, but your bicycle is out here. Ta da!’

Kate threw the front door of the last cottage open and gestured for Cassie to take a walk to the other side of the pond and head over towards the barns, which faced the terrace.

‘The big barn?’ she asked.

‘No, the little one. The one we keep all the odd bits in. I’m afraid the bike’s not in the best condition, but we’ve got time to sort it out.’

‘What, so it’s got a couple of flat tyres? Needs a coat of paint? No problem.’ Cassie was practically bouncing along beside her. The tea, Kate noticed, slopped over the top of the mug and down the side but they were outside so it didn’t matter that much. The resident ducks and geese ran over to them, curious to see if they had any bread, but Kate shooed them away.

Cassie wasn’t far wrong when she suggested the bicycle needed a coat of paint and a tyre pump, but as Kate climbed over the rope and eased it out of the corner, she knew that it really wouldn’t take much to sort it out.

‘Oh, that’s perfect!’ Cassie unhooked the rope and pulled it to one side so Kate could wheel the bicycle out — well okay, bump it fairly roughly out — and soon they had it in the courtyard, in daylight, and could study it properly.

‘I think it’s probably the original bicycle your grandfather talked about.’ Kate ran her hand lovingly across the old wooden box on the front. A splinter came away and embedded itself in her finger. She frowned and sucked at her fingertip, trying to remove the thing but it wouldn’t budge. ‘But I didn’t realise the wicker basket was so rotten.’

‘It’ll be fine.’ Cassie balanced her cup on the wooden box, then swiftly removed it as she saw Kate glare at it. ‘Whoops. Sorry, just imagining what it’ll be like with ice-cream in it.’

‘Always the food products.’

‘With clotted cream on the cones, I think,’ continued Cassie. She was practically drooling.

‘With clotted cream.’ Kate had to admit that it did sound rather appealing. ‘I’ll need to see how we can refrigerate the ice-cream.’ She lifted the lid of the box up and inspected it. A money spider scurried across her hand and she shook the tiny arachnid off. ‘I guess we can use one of those little plastic cool boxes or something. I’ll have a think about it. Technology has moved on a bit now and as long as it’s hidden, we shouldn’t have anyone complaining that it’s not authentic enough.’

‘You know, Kate, you’re far too practical,’ sighed Cassie. ‘All I’m thinking about is what colour we can paint it.’