Free The Great Village Show by Alexandra Brown Page B

classroom fish tank so we had to do an emergency goldfish evacuation. Taylor loves animals, and was so upset that she cried herself to sleep that night – according to her mum, Amber. And then she came into school the following day with an apology card covered in stickers of Nemo that she had made herself. I still have it pinned to the cork board on the wall in my office.
    ‘Ahh, sorry Miss Sing—, oops, sorry,
Meg
. Feels weird saying Meg,’ she grins and I laugh. ‘Um, I just wondered how Jack was doing?’
    ‘Oh,’ I say, a little taken aback as I wasn’t aware that they were friends. As if hearing my thoughts, Taylor adds,
    ‘We played pool together in the Duck & Puddle, last time he was home.’ And I’m sure I spot a flush in her cheeks. ‘I let him win,’ she shrugs, and sweeps her long Elsa-from-
Frozen
-style plait over her shoulder, clearly smitten.
    ‘Well, um, that was very kind of you.’ I lean towards her and lower my voice. ‘He can get very huffy if he loses a game,’ I say conspiratorially. Taylor laughs and pats my arm like we’re best friends, and it warms my heart; for a moment I’m reminded of Jack, tapping my arm to get my attention – and then I realise that physical contact is one of the main things I miss most about him not being here, in addition to his smile and jokes and advice on just about everything, from dating to what the latest street-slang words actually mean, to trying to goad me into doing impressions of rappers so he can roll around on the floor laughing at me. Taylor smiles and inspects her paw-print-patterned acrylic nails before asking again how Jack is. ‘He seemed fine, last time we spoke,’ I reply, curious to know why she’s enquiring, and she seems very insistent on finding out – I make a mental note to ask Jack next time he calls.
    ‘Good. That’s really good,’ Taylor says, distractedly, but she seems vacant now, nervous even. ‘Um,’ she hesitates. ‘Sorry, I …’ Her voice fades.
    ‘Are you OK, Taylor?’
    ‘Yes … I just wondered if … um, that when you next talk to him, if you could ask him to get in touch with me, please? It’s quite important – I’ve messaged him but he hasn’t replied.’ She looks at her hands and my heart goes out to her. An unrequited crush is always quite devastating, but especially so when you’re only seventeen years old. I know I’m biased, but Jack is a very good-looking boy, all dark curly hair and gypsy eyes, takes after his dad, whose grandmother was a Romany gypsy, and Taylor isn’t the first girl to go gaga over Jack. Taylor pulls her long cardy closer around herself before folding her arms as if shielding her body. Oh dear, she’s got it bad. She’s clearly feeling vulnerable.
    ‘Sure, I can do that,’ I smile.
    ‘Oh would you?’ Taylor beams. ‘That would be awesome!’
    *
    A couple of hours later, and I’m sitting in Kitty’s tearoom, having already polished off a delicious round of locally sourced cheese and homemade chutney sandwiches, and now have a perfectly plump huffkin bun in front of me, with caramelised cherries cascading from the hole in the centre, and a mug of hot chocolate with a very generous swirl of marshmallow-topped squirty cream on top.
    ‘What do you reckon?’ It’s Kitty, and after wiping her hands on her ditsy floral-print apron, she points to the cake. I slip my almost finished cross-stitch project back inside the cloth shoe bag to keep it clean and free from crumbs, or a possible hot chocolate spillage. I’ve already had to unstitch part of it three times because I made some silly mistakes with the detailing, so it really is becoming a labour of love and it would be a real shame if it got ruined at this stage when I’ve very nearly finished it.
    ‘Very impressive! It looks amazing and I bet it tastes as good as it looks too,’ I say, smiling up at her.
    ‘I thought I’d get a head start on the Traditional Tindledale theme and practise baking some local