Deadly Clementine

Elaine shrugged. “Well, if Clementine and Sally could do it, Clementine and I can do it. Besides, it gets me out of the house and away from the farm for a while. As far as I am concerned, that can only be a good thing.”

“It’s your father’s busiest time of year,” Mr Aldwych reminded her.

“Don’t I know it. The only chance I must get out of the house and have my father allow it is to come here and be involved in the village fair. It would seem churlish of him not to allow me to help seeing as two of the villagers have now died,” Elaine reasoned. “Besides, he can cope without me. He has enough workers.”

Clementine sighed. She had to wonder what Elaine was up to, not least because she had never been so willing to engage in such organisations as the church ladies, or fair organisation committee before. It made Clementine wonder if Elaine wanted to curry someone’s favour but seeing as the committee members were just ordinary villagers who had more time on their hands than most, it was difficult to know who Elaine might want to impress. While she could understand Elaine’s need to get away from the farm for a bit, this was habitually Elaine’s favourite time of year on the farm. It was a time when the workers sang in the fields while they gathered the crops, and the farmer hosted a get together after the harvest had been gathered. It was a busy time that was full of hard work and toil, but it was a time when everyone got together on the farms in the area.

“Well, let’s get on with it, shall we? I am sure the vicar will be here soon enough, but I don’t have the time to wait for him,” Elaine began with uncharacteristic briskness.

“It doesn’t seem right that we hold the meeting today seeing as we have just buried Mrs Walcott and Mrs McGaffney has died only an hour or so ago,” Mrs Kinnerton interrupted.

“So, what do you suggest we do, eh? Leave it for another week? We don’t have much time as it is. At the rate our committee members keep dying we could all be dead before the end of the week,” Mr Smorsley snapped with all the finesse of a charging bull.

Clementine wanted to drop her forehead onto the table before her and start banging, not least because that set Mrs Riverton onto wailing again, and even made Mrs Kinnerton fidget.

“That hasn’t helped,” Clementine snapped.

“Well, I am just saying,” Mrs Smorsley replied with enough sarcasm to make Clementine shake her head chidingly at him.

“Look, let’s just leave Elaine to draw up a list of what stall is going where, and then she can arrange who is going to run each stall. I think this year if Elaine and I do the games, and everyone takes the roles they took last year, we can just get on with it. If we meet here, say, this time next week, if anyone has a problem, we can all sort it out. If not then we can just get together, confirm everything is all going to plan and be on our way again.” Clementine sighed and glared at the people around the table. Her gaze fell on Elaine, who scowled heavily at her, as if she was annoyed that Clementine had taken the decisions out of her hands. Clementine knew that what she had just said should have been said by the chair, but she wanted to get home, and Elaine didn’t seem all that interested in drawing the meeting to a conclusion.

“We could meet back here in a week’s time,” Elaine began somewhat uncertainly.

“If we are all here,” Mr Smorsley snorted.

“Oh, do shut up,” Clementine snapped. “You are not helping.”

Mr Smorsley threw a filthy glare at her before he shoved away from the table and ambled to the door. “This time next week then ladies. Don’t be late – or dead.”

“Are you going home?” Elaine asked of Clementine while everyone began to gather their things in preparation to leave.

Clementine had barely managed to pull her shawl on before the ladies had scuttled out of the door, probably to ensure they reached home before the Grim Reaper caught up with them. With a sigh, Clementine eyed the empty room and absently began to tidy up. When it was done, she turned to Elaine and realised then that she was still waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am going straight home. After the day I have just had, I think it is best,” Clementine replied a little sadly.

As she followed Elaine out of the room and closed the door behind her, Clementine’s gaze turned to the roof of Mrs McGaffney’s house nestled amongst many in the small village they called home.

“It’s odd, is it not, that two ladies die of a seizure in the same week?”

“Oh, pooh,” Elaine huffed dismissively. “People die all the time. Why should anybody think there is anything odd about it?”

“I know, but we can go years without anybody dying in this village, yet two people die of the same thing in the same week,” Clementine replied.

“Now you are starting to sound like Mrs Riverton,” Elaine warned.

“Can I not make an observation without being accused of sounding hysterical?” Clementine countered, her voice crisp and a little affronted.

Elaine blinked at her. “Of course, you can. I didn’t mean to offend you. I am just saying that it isn’t going to do anybody any good to look too closely at things like that. People die all the time. Just because two died in the same week doesn’t mean that anything odd is going on. Isn’t it more important to focus on getting the village fair organised?”

“I suppose,” Clementine whispered.

She absently lifted a hand and waved at Mr Cavanagh, who raised his cane in response before disappearing through his garden gate. Clementine jerked when she felt fingers on her arm and turned to look askance at Elaine.

“Goose,” Elaine chided with a rueful look before linking arms with her good friend.

Clementine forced herself to relax and offered her a smile, but it didn’t venture as far as her eyes, which remained worried as they scanned the streets they walked through, although what she was looking for Clementine had absolutely no idea.

CHAPTER FIVE