Page 4 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

‘I suppose,’ Jenna said, switching a smile on as she relieved the final couple of the entrance fee. They had two small children with them and, by the looks of it, another one on the way. ‘You’ll want a guidebook as well, won’t you?’

She directed her question to the man; knowing, Kate suspected, that the woman’s mind was already on herding her children up and that she would have more to do than read a guide book when she was on her way around the museum. The man, however, had no such qualms and eagerly handed the money over.

Kate shook her head after them as they made their way into the first cottage. ‘You’re unbelievable,’ she told Jenna. ‘Like they’ll have time to read it?’ The man had already scooped his little girl up and the guide book was now sticking out of his back pocket like a baton.

Jenna shrugged and swept her glossy dark curls over her shoulder. ‘Not my problem.’

‘Yes, but you’re not on commission.’ In fact, she was only working with Kate because her usual assistant, Maeve, was doing some sort of research project in Scotland. Apparently, they’d found a stone crannog — an ancient man-made island which people used to live on — in the Outer Hebrides, and she was up there helping to excavate it.

Jenna’s father was the museum board’s Chair and had pulled strings in order to secure this temporary assignment for his twenty-year old daughter. She hated the job with a passion — ‘old stuff is, like, so boring!’ — but was doing some sort of penance there for defrauding her father’s credit card. The girl was, in Kate’s opinion, a silly, spoiled brat; extremely pretty and used to snapping her fingers and getting whatever she wanted. But this time, Daddy had been pushed too far — and as Kate was desperate for some help in Maeve’s absence, Jenna was sent to fill the gap.

Jenna had no compassion for people. Kate would never try to hard-sell a guide book to anyone. They were on the table and if visitors wanted one, fine. There were plenty of information boards up if not. What she often found was that customers came back to get a book afterwards as a souvenir because they’d enjoyed the museum so much. Jenna didn’t see it that way, sadly. Kate thought she was doing business or marketing and was, she supposed, very good at the mechanics of turning a profit. But she had no people skills, unless the people in question were men.

‘No. I’m not on commission and I think I should be,’ Jenna said, looking dead serious.

Kate frowned at her. ‘I think not.’

They barely tolerated one another until about one o’clock, when Kate simply had to get out of there before she said something she regretted. Jenna had sold seven guide-books and flirted with twice that many men. Kate didn’t quite know how she did it.

‘I’m off to find some lunch. Would you like anything from Delilah’s?’ It was Friday, after all. Kate reckoned she deserved something from Delilah’s.

Jenna pulled a face. ‘No. I’ll just have a coffee and a ciggie later. I’m not hungry.’

‘Okay.’ Kate didn’t bother to try and persuade her. ‘Catch you later.’

Kate squeezed out behind Jenna and headed out of the cosy little reception area. The cottages were stone-built and the entrance to this first one was all nice and white-washed, and Kate liked to keep it as welcoming as possible, even though it could be a little dark and crowded at times. There was a lovely collection of clocks around the walls, from wall-clocks to a big grandfather clock which had come from the Hall. Most of them told the right time. Two didn’t. One was stuck at 11.15 and the grandfather clock was stuck at 3.27, holding memories of long-forgotten hours on long-forgotten days. A beautiful phrase was written in gold on the bottom of the grandfather clock’s face, under the Hartsford coat of arms; Hodie est tempus nostrum. Today is our time.

But, as Kate told herself, at least those clocks were right twice a day. And she loved the co-ordinated ticking of them all. It was such a comforting sound; but thank goodness she’d disabled all the chimes, bar that of the cuckoo clock. She adored that cuckoo. He reminded her of her Great-Aunt’s house when she was small; Kate and her older brother Tom sitting in the less formal ‘back room’ and Kate hoping she’d be there long enough to see the cuckoo peek his head out and say hello.

She wandered through the village to Delilah’s tea-shop and saw that it was pretty busy too. Hartsford was doing well today. For such a small place, they were certainly on the tourist trail. It helped, she knew, that the Hall was on the list as one of the ‘Top Ten Tourist Attractions of Suffolk.’

Once inside Delilah’s, Kate spotted a box full of scones and cakes labelled up with the word ‘Hall’ and suspected that they had put a call in for extra treats up there. Delilah supplied the Hall with food for the Garden Kiosk and the Gypsy Tea Caravan and it all worked perfectly. Cassie had been right — she could maybe get away with ice-creams at the museum, a vending machine serving coffee and tea at the very most, but no way could she or would she even try to compete with Delilah.

Kate shuffled her way to the front of the queue, trying to decide on a jacket potato or a toasted Panini.

‘Hello Kate!’ said Delilah as she approached the counter. ‘It’s nice to see you.’

‘Well it’s Friday.’ Kate smiled. ‘Can’t resist a treat on a Friday. I’ll have a ham and cheese Panini, please, if that’s okay.’

‘Takeaway?’ asked Delilah, making a note.

‘Yes — I’ll have to dash back with it. I can’t leave the place for too long.’ Kate pulled a face.

Delilah mirrored her expression. ‘Is she still up to her tricks?’

Kate nodded. ‘Yep. Seems like she’s here for the duration. I’m hoping Maeve’s Scottish project doesn’t take too long.’

‘I completely understand. Look. I’ll toss in a fairy cake for you as well. Make you feel better, eh?’

Kate laughed. ‘Oh, Delilah. This is why I love Hartsford so much! You lot are just awesome.’

‘“You lot”?’ repeated Delilah, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘And by that you mean . . . ?’

‘The locals.’ Kate leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper. ‘You know. Because I’m not one.’

Delilah laughed and shook her head. ‘I know!’ It was a standing joke between them that one rather unpleasant tourist on a bus trip had asked Kate, quite snippily, how she could even run a Suffolk folk museum, when she wasn’t a Suffolk girl — because she didn’t even sound like she was a local. Kate had lived in Cambridge most of her life and didn’t think she sounded that odd, or that alien to the area, but to some people she must, clearly, sound un-local.

‘Thanks for this, anyway.’ Kate held up the little paper bag. ‘I’ll just wait along here for my sandwich.’ She paid and sidled to the edge of the counter. But yeah, she couldn’t help it. She opened the paper bag and scoffed the cake while she was waiting.