Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year. Bella Osborne

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       Chapter Seven

      When Saturday morning dawned Daisy wasn’t entirely sure how she had been roped into going to the local fête. She knew it meant a few locals selling plants and a bunch of screaming kids high on candy floss, but Tamsyn was excited and desperately wanted Daisy to go too. Perhaps she just wanted to share the ordeal.

      The little town was humming with activity as yet more cars squeezed into the already overfilled place. Daisy had wrestled her wayward hair into a flowery bandana and put on the only summer dress she owned. They joined the throng of people heading towards the recreation ground.

      Daisy was stopped at the gates by an overly smiley woman. ‘Fifty pence entry, please.’

      ‘What?’ said Daisy astonished. ‘You’re charging people actual money to come in?’ Daisy chuckled but she handed over her entrance fee and took the proffered leaflet.

      ‘It’s a shame Coral couldn’t come,’ said Tamsyn, appearing at her side. Today she was wearing a bustier top, floaty skirt and flip-flops that didn’t match.

      ‘She’s saved herself fifty pence – that’s very wise.’ Daisy scanned the leaflet. It was a timetable of events. ‘Events’ seemed a bit grand for the local fête.

      ‘I’m going to look at the buggy racing first and later the falconry display,’ said Tamsyn. ‘You coming?’

      ‘Buggy racing?’ It was like being in a parallel universe where Ottercombe Bay had woken up to the wonders of the twentieth century – still a century behind but, hey, it was progress, thought Daisy. Clearly the fête had advanced somewhat since she’d last been. She followed Tamsyn with a spring in her step and her expectations raised.

      Although Daisy couldn’t argue that there was buggy racing it was on a smaller scale than she’d been expecting. ‘They’re model cars.’ Daisy pointed at one speeding past and watched it hit a bump, momentarily leaving the grass.

      ‘No, they’re remote control,’ said Tamsyn, waving at someone she knew who was grappling with a controller. They both watched as a buggy on the other side of the course crashed into a tyre wall. ‘Whoops, let’s check out the other racing,’ said Tamsyn striding off.

      The other racing had Daisy standing there literally open-mouthed. ‘Goat racing? Since when did you get racing goats?’ she asked.

      ‘Oh, they’ve been doing this for a few years. It’s great. They used to have teddies for jockeys but they kept getting eaten. You can bet on them,’ said Tamsyn pulling out her purse and heading over to a large blackboard where their old head teacher was frantically updating odds on an interesting list of names.

      ‘Hiya, Mr Templeton,’ said Tamsyn.

      ‘Oh, hello Tamsyn. Who are you betting on?’

      ‘Any top tips?’ she asked with an exaggerated wink.

      ‘Couldn’t say but Hairy Potter has failed to finish twice so you might want to steer clear of him,’ he said, with a tap of his nose. He looked past Tamsyn and watched Daisy for a minute while she giggled at the names on the board.

      ‘I know you as well don’t I?’ He narrowed his eyes. Daisy stopped giggling and swallowed hard.

      ‘Daisy Wickens. Hello Sir,’ she said feeling seven years old again.

      ‘Lovely to see you again, Daisy. And where did life after Ottercombe Primary take you?’ He was looking genuinely interested, which made the very unimpressive answer all the harder to muster.

      Thankfully Tamsyn stepped in. ‘She’s been travelling round the whole of Europe.’ She emphasised this by waving her arms in a giant circle and almost knocking off Mr Templeton’s glasses.

      ‘Careful there, Tamsyn. That is wonderful, Daisy, well done you for continuing your education by taking in some of this wonderful planet. Will you be having a bet with us today?’

      Daisy opened her mouth and closed it again. Everyone always assumed that travelling meant she’d been on one long holiday when in reality she’d been an itinerant worker living on a sporadic and pitiful income, which wasn’t the sort of education he meant but she loved his optimism. ‘Thanks. I’ll have a pound on Billy the Kid, please.’

      ‘Good choice,’ he said, taking her money and giving her a ticket.

      ‘One pound on Barb. E. Cue and a pound on Hot to Trot. Thanks, Mr T,’ said Tamsyn, taking her tickets and leading Daisy over to a roped-off area. In the ring were some miserable-looking teenagers hanging on to a number of recalcitrant goats of varying sizes. Daisy was about to put her ticket away when a large goat snatched it from her hand and promptly ate it.

      ‘Hey Gollum!’ said the youth on the other end of the goat’s rope.

      ‘He’s СКАЧАТЬ