Page 12 of Winter Wishes at Pennycress Inn

‘Sharon, who normally organises things, is getting married in the new year and her crafting has slipped right down the priority list.’ Patricia tutted.

‘I see.’ Scarlett looked around the room. She was tempted to pack up and go and surprise Laura for dinner, but she’d checked her bank account before coming and even if she could make an extra twenty pounds before the fair closed it would make all the difference. As Patricia moved back to finish packing up her stall and Stanley retreated to his, she slumped back into her chair, shifting position against the hard wooden back.

‘So much for trialling the craft fairs for my coffee. Although, it doesn’t sound as though today has been a true reflection of the opportunity.’ Rowan sank back into his chair too.

‘No, I don’t suppose it has. It’s a shame. It’s my first fair in the Cotswolds and being as it’s so close to Christmas I was really hoping for a good number of sales.’ Scarlett lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip. ‘I should have spent some time researching, and then I’d have realised it wasn’t being advertised properly.’

Rowan twisted in his chair to look at her. ‘You research the fairs? That hadn’t even crossed my mind.’

‘I normally do, yes.’ She nodded. The only reason she hadn’t this time was because she’d haphazardly booked them in so she wouldn’t be able to back out of travelling down here. Between working at Devon’s and avoiding Tyler she just hadn’t had either the time or the brain space to look into the events she was booking. ‘Even a quick look on social media shows whether it’s being advertised. Plus, I usually look for old photographs of the event from the last time it was run which can give you an idea of how many stallholders there are and how many customers are likely to come.’

‘Now that’s a good idea.’ He leaned his back against the chair. ‘It seems I’ve got a lot to learn.’

Scarlett grinned. ‘Or maybe not. After all, even if I had found photos of last year’s craft fair here, it wouldn’t have even hinted at how quiet it would be this time, if what Patricia said is anything to go by.’

‘True.’ Rowan looked towards the door as it swung open, letting a gust of cold wind into the hall. ‘Maybe our luck’s about to change.’

Following his gaze, Scarlett frowned as a group of five kids who looked to be in their late teens sauntered into the hall, two of them holding skateboards tucked under their arms whilst the others walked behind them, rainwater dripping from their coats to the wooden floor. None of them looked particularly interested in the crafts on display as they made their way inside and bee-lined towards the toilets in the corner of the hall. ‘Or not.’

‘Umm.’ Keeping his eyes on them, Rowan absent-mindedly rearranged his coffee bags before slouching back into his chair as they disappeared into the toilets and the door swung shut.

After what could only have been a few minutes, they reappeared, and the two holding skateboards flung them onto the floor before jumping on them and pushing off. Scarlett watched as they skateboarded around the hall, pausing at Stanley’s stall where they picked up jar after jar of chutney before using them to construct a tower in the middle of his tabletop.

Sighing, Scarlett pushed herself to standing. She couldn’t make out what Stanley was saying to them, but she heard the rude reply from the shortest boy, and there was no chance she was just going to sit there and say nothing. ‘Oi.’

‘Hold up. I’ll get rid of them.’ Before she’d reached the other side of her stall, Rowan was halfway across the hall.

Quickening her pace, Scarlett matched his as he reached Stanley and the young troublemakers.

‘I think it’s time you left.’ Rowan’s voice was quiet but laced with an authority Scarlett hadn’t expected.

One of the boys turned, a sneer spreading across his face. ‘Why? What are you going to do, Grandad?’

Clenching her fists to her sides, Scarlett could feel the heat of anger begin to race through her veins. How dare they insult Rowan? Or mess with Stanley? ‘You heard him.’

‘Ooh, you need your missis to stick up for you do you, Grandad?’ The same boy laughed at them, but Scarlett could see out of the corner of her eye that the other four didn’t look quite as sure of themselves and were slowly backing away towards the door.

‘We’re not looking for an argument. We’re just here to sell our goods, so unless you’re going to buy something, then please leave.’ Again, Rowan spoke quietly, his expression calm.

Scarlett watched as the four kids who had backed away reached the hall door and paused. It was working; Rowan had told them to leave and they were. If it hadn’t been for him taking the lead, Scarlett was certain she’d have been yelling at them by now.

‘Come on, Declan. It’s boring in here, anyway,’ the tallest boy called over his shoulder as he pushed open the door.

‘Fine, whatever. And, yeah, it’s well boring.’ Declan shook his head before jumping back on his skateboard again.

Scarlett turned to Stanley, who was sitting stock-still behind his stall. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, sorry, lass. I don’t know what came over me. I should have done something, but thank you. Both of you.’ Reaching forward, Stanley began dismantling the tower of chutney jars just as a loud clatter sounded behind them.

Twisting on her heels, Scarlett watched as Declan picked up one of the mugs from the mug tree on her stall and threw it to the floor before skating towards Rowan’s stall and knocking his mug of coffee to the floor, liquid splattering across the floorboards between the shards of ceramic. ‘Hey…!’

‘They were rubbish anyway.’ Declan sneered again before disappearing back outside, his mates following closely behind.

Turning, Scarlett began heading towards the door before she felt Rowan’s hand on her arm. Halting in her tracks, she glanced down at his hand before looking back at him questioningly.

‘It’s not worth it. They’ll be long gone by now.’ Taking his hand back, he shook his head.

‘He’s right, you know. They’re just kids trying to look tough in front of their mates. Plus, they probably won’t have the money on them to pay for the breakages, anyway.’ Stanley shook his head.