Page 13 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘It wasn’t a problem,’ said Rosie. ‘It was nice for Tilds to come along too.’

‘It’s a lovely village,’ said Mr Rivers. ‘Very friendly.’

‘Very friendly,’ agreed Rosie. ‘And Jay knows everyone, don’t you Jay?’

Jay grinned. ‘It certainly seems like I do. Comes with working at the only pub in the village, I suppose.’

‘And by being the star turn at Padcock’s Got Talent,’ said Rosie. ‘That was a fun event.’

‘Wait. What?’ I chipped in. This was interesting! ‘Padcock’s Got Talent?’

‘The official name for the Summer Fayre entertainment,’ replied Rosie.

‘Oh! I knew there was a Fayre and entertainment and stuff. I just didn’t know it had a formal name!’ I laughed. ‘What sort of acts do you get?’

‘Singing, mostly.’ Rosie nodded towards her brother. ‘Well, other people try to sing, but nobody can beat him. Once, they did a boy band, which was hysterical. Jay was the lead singer. The others just sort of swayed in the background and tried to look cool. Honestly. Ask Sam. He just tried to look moody in the background but nobody was fooled.’

‘Isn’t there dancing as well?’ asked Mrs Rivers.

‘There is!’ Rosie’s eyes widened and she fixed her gaze on me. It was terrifying. ‘Matilda. You can enter this year. With your Irish Dancing.’

‘No!’ I felt my cheeks heat up. ‘I’m not that good at it!’

‘Yes, you are. You’re brilliant. I’ve seen you practising.’

My cheeks grew even hotter. I must confess I did do Irish Dancing. It was part of my thought process when I was painting. If I didn’t quite know what to do, I did a little jig in front of the canvas until it became clear in my head. I’d danced since I was a little girl. Damien used to come and meet me after class on a Saturday afternoon at the church hall after he’d played football. We’d head off into town together to spend our pocket money on sweeties and fizzy pop before our parents forced us to have baths after our exertions. At that age, baths just ate into our free time, and we had much more we wanted to do than “wallowing in your own sweat” as Damien used to say.

Luckily, I’d managed to find an adult class when I moved to London. It was my guilty pleasure. That and my penchant for sewing pretty dresses and flouncy skirts, and upcycling vintage clothes from charity shops to make them into something gorgeous and new.

‘I think you’ve seen me thinking, Rosie, not dancing,’ I corrected her. I didn’t have a studio — I had a corner of my bedroom — and that was how Rosie had witnessed my penchant for Riverdance and all it entailed in action. ‘Anyway, I’m not a local,’ I continued, ‘so I doubt I could enter it. It would be Padcock’s Got Talent And Matilda.’

‘You could take part if I put a good word in for you,’ teased Jay. ‘One whisper in Veronica’s ear and you’d be in.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ I was horrified.

‘Think about it, Tilds. If I have to put myself up there again to defend my title, then I don’t see why everyone else should get away with just watching.’

‘And Rosie. What would she do?’ I retorted desperately.

We both looked at Rosie who blinked owlishly. I had to ask though — the thought of her getting away with it when I was being teased made me want to deflect the attention.

‘Me? I couldn’t possibly enter. I don’t have any performance talents. And besides. I shall probably decide to cover it for Darling! magazine as a reporter, so I’ll have to stay visible and available and ensure I have a good overview of what’s going on.’ Now she looked and sounded terribly pious instead.

I stared at her, then snorted a laugh that wouldn’t stay hidden. ‘And do you think the readers of Darling! are going to be interested in the Padcock Summer Fayre?’

‘I don’t see why not. It’s a social event in a village that’s quite famous in its own right — so yes, I’ll be doing an article and that’s that. Also, Edie and Ninian will probably be involved in the Fayre, so they are our local celebrities. And why shouldn’t I do an article on it? It’ll be fun.’

‘Perhaps you could do two articles,’ said Mrs Rivers, ‘because wouldn’t the local newspaper like a report on it as well?’

Rosie frowned. ‘I’m not even sure there is a local Padcock newspaper. Otherwise that would be a good idea. Jay? Is there a local Padcock newspaper?’

Jay, who was draining his coffee, put his cup down and shook his head. ‘Not unless you count Veronica’s village newsletter. And even that doesn’t get produced very often — maybe twice a year? Spring and Christmas. Just letting us know what events the WI have got coming up and dates for our diaries. The village grapevine is usually all we need here to be honest.’

‘Really?’ Rosie looked shocked. ‘Oh that’s a definite gap in the market. So no, Mum. I can’t write an article for the local paper. It’ll have to be just for Darling!’

‘An exclusive then,’ I said. ‘That’s cool.’

‘You’re right!’ Rosie grinned at me. ‘That’s exactly how I’ll pitch it.’