‘On what night?’
‘Talent show night. A very special Bledburn Talent Team. It’ll be good for the youth club, for the kids, for your profile, for the local paper … Well, come on. It would be fun, don’t you think?’
‘Well, I don’t know. It’s a bit more than I was planning for …’
‘Jenna, you could find the next Madonna, the next Michael Jackson – here in Bledburn.’
‘You know, I think every town is capable of throwing up a Madonna or a Michael Jackson,’ said Jenna. ‘If talent is nurtured properly, it can turn into stardom. But I’m not here to do that, Lawrence.’
‘Oh, look, it’s just a bit of fun. A nice ego-boost for some local kid with a nice voice. And it’ll be good for Bledburn. How about it?’
‘I had a plan of my own that I thought would be good for Bledburn.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘To restore the Miners’ Gala. Obviously without the Miners’ bit. But a big summer party for the whole town in the grounds of Harville Hall, just like I remember it. Bands, entertainment, stalls, free food, big beer tent, all of that. Wouldn’t that be great? I was thinking, September time, once the house is done but the weather is still fine.’
But Lawrence didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm one bit.
‘There’s a reason that ended,’ he muttered.
‘Because the mine shut, yes.’
‘Because my family became pariahs. I don’t want the town reminding of that, not now, after all this water under the bridge.’
Jenna considered this, but she was a bit cross that Lawrence’s personal reluctance was more important to him than some pleasure for the town.
‘Nobody bothers about all that Harville stuff any more,’ she said. ‘Like you said – water under the bridge.’
‘Not for the older people round here,’ he said. ‘For them, Harville Hall is still a symbol. I wouldn’t invite them in, seriously, Jen. It’s asking for trouble.’
‘I’m not a Harville. I’m Bledburn’s best and brightest – well, me and Deano, I suppose. However they feel about you, they’re OK with me. I don’t think they’d cause me any bother.’
‘You’re naïve. Been in La-La-land too long.’
‘And you’re overstepping the mark of our friendship.’
She stood up, reaching for her purse and looking for the proprietor to thank and congratulate.
‘Walking home, are you?’ asked Lawrence with a sneer, standing along with her.
‘There are such things as taxis.’
‘I wouldn’t go and hail one from the cab rank outside Wetherspoons if I were you. Gets rough this time of night.’
‘You think I’ve existed in cotton wool all this time? Showbusiness is tough, Lawrence. I’m tough.’
‘Look.’ He grabbed her elbow and she tried to yank herself free without drawing attention, which proved impossible, so she let him stop her, for the time being. ‘Jenna. I’m sorry. I’ve given you my opinion – I’m not going to force you to take it. Let’s agree to disagree and change the subject, eh?’
She exhaled deeply in an attempt to dispel her irritation.
‘Fine. But don’t ever call me naïve.’
‘I won’t. Overly optimistic, perhaps …’
‘Lawrence!’
‘I’m sorry. Come on, I’ll drive you home, if you’ve had enough.’