Free The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) by Stacey Field

thought of being in her presence.  As I passed Lucy’s neighbour, a large, buxom bossy woman in her seventies, I heard a snippet of conversation.
    “... yes, I could hear it through the walls… nearly broke my heart it did, sobbing her little heart out she were,” the neighbour said as she dramatically placed a chubby hand on her chest.
    “Who do you think it was that had got their self into such a state?” said her nosy companion.
    “It’ll have been the younger girl. I often hear her... breaking her heart over summat and nowt.”
    “Or some boy or other,” the blue-rinsed companion said, nodding wisely.
    I knew they were referring to Lucy.  The realisation that my friend had become the subject of village gossip saddened me and I vowed to keep the information I had just heard to myself.  I gave the two gossiping women a frown and continued my search for Lucy.
    It was a warm day with a hint of a breeze in the air.  Giddy children holding big clouds of fluffy pink candy floss pushed past me on their way to the helter-skelter.  Light-hearted cries of disappointment wafted my way from the direction of the coconut shy.  The village green was buzzing with activity and underneath it all the river hummed its endless tune. 
    It was here that I finally found Lucy, gazing into the water.  She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders.  I watched her for a while.  Her hair was tied up high on her head but a few unruly strands had broken free and were gently blowing in the breeze.  The sunlight hit the clear water and was reflected back on to her face, giving her an ethereal appearance.
    I tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
    “Are you OK?” I asked gently.  She jumped slightly at my touch.
    “Of course,” said Lucy, smiling when she saw it was me. “The river is my favourite thinking spot.”
    “I know,” I said, and noted how different the green of her eyes looked in the bright light.
    She glanced behind me towards the bustle of the fair.
    “There seems to be a bigger turnout than last year,” she said, indicating the crowd.
    “Yes, more proceeds for the church, I guess.”
    She nodded and we fell silent for a few minutes.
    “Luce, are you really all right?” I said, thinking back to the conversation I had just overheard.
    She looked straight at me and for a minute I could see the full extent of the pain and sadness she was experiencing.  Then she smiled in a half-hearted attempt to reassure me.
    “Yeah, I’m fine, Charlie... do you want to try the coconut shy?  I bet you can’t win one,” she said with a grin.
    I knew Lucy was putting on a brave face but I indulged her, hoping that it might take her mind off things.  
    The annual crowning of the Village Princess was in full swing as we reached the coconut shy.  The crowning was another tradition in our small village and the highlight of the fair.
    “I hate this part,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes as we waited in line, “everybody knows Amy will be crowned yet again, like she is every year.”
    “Most likely, which is ironic when the queen is supposed to be chosen based on her pureness of heart and the number of Christian duties she has carried out throughout the year,” I replied.
    “Everybody knows she only wins because her dad is the vicar.  No doubt she’ll be wearing yet another vulgar new dress.” Lucy added as we moved up through the queue.
    Before the crowning the village girls were given some time to address the crowd and talk about all the godly, do-gooding work they had achieved that year. The candidates for queen were always introduced one by one by the fair’s host.
    The microphone crackled and emitted a high-pitched whine that caused a few members of the crowd to cover their ears and an elderly gentleman nearby to turn off his hearing aid.
    “Hello... one... two... one... two.”
    Lucy’s eyes widened and she whipped her head around to look at me before we both turned to stare at the stage in