Thanks for last chapter's reviews guys (and some of you know us peas rather well, as you'll later see) :) Hope you all had a great Christmas!
It was late afternoon, three days later, when they arrived at a large and imposing town hall in the East of London. The winter sun had dimmed to orange along the horizon and a shimmering of frost had already settled on the pavements. Ruth watched, idly, as Malcolm and Zaf carried in an assortment of her jams and tableware to dress the stall with, and Adam and Wes hauled a large drainpipe, a mallet and sock-rat through the large wooden doors. Jo, with her inflatable paddling pool and pink rubber ducks, had already rushed inside enthusiastically.
"What did you pick in the end?" she asked Ros, noting that whatever it was, it didn't require anything to be brought with them.
"Bottle tombola," she replied, which something approaching a smile. "The lesser of any of the evils."
"You do know they're prizes, not compensatory rewards for you having to stand there all evening, don't you?" chirped in Zaf, who had arrived to stock his arms with another box of preserves.
Ros muttered something which sounded decidedly dangerous and, as Malcolm carefully shepherded him away, Zaf had common sense enough not to ask for it to be repeated.
**
"How much jam did you make, Ruth?" Zaf groaned as they finally all arrived inside and he unceremoniously dumped the last of the boxes on the rickety old decorator's table, trimmed with lacy table cloth.
"As much as I had time to," she answered, distractedly, as she peered inside the boxes and began pulling the jars out.
"By that logic, you shouldn't have had time to make anything. You've not left the Grid before ten any night this week."
Ruth gripped the edge of the box tightly between her fingers and studiously avoided the younger man's gaze. "You have to make time, Zaf."
"Quite right," boomed Harry's authoritative voice as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Jeez, Harry! Any stealthier and we'll have to get you a collar with a bell!"
Distinctly unimpressed, Harry gave him a glare. "Perhaps you should go and sort out your own stall, Zafar."
"Nothing to it. All I have to do is pucker up and let the ladies fight over me!" he said, grinning as he wiggled his eyebrows at Ruth.
"You're enjoying this far too much," Ruth said, shaking her head at him.
"What are you enjoying?" enquired Malcolm, warily, arriving halfway through the conversation.
"Ruth's jam, of course," Zaf lied, smoothly.
"Oh, I don't think you should be sampling it before the fayre opens," he replied, seriously.
"Not to worry, Malcolm, I was only asking for the recipe." At Malcolm's incredulous look, he hastily added, "for my mum, she loves recipes. Ruth is a little reluctant to share her trade secrets though." He winked, rather knowingly, at Ruth.
"Is she!?" He turned to face Ruth. "Don't be shy, Ruth, I'd like to know, too."
Blushing and under an inordinate amount of pressure, she fumbled through her memory and tried to think of something to say. "Er, well, erm, I erm, … I, erm, got the fruit a-and boiled it…with some sugar…and that's about it, really…."
"How long for?" asked Malcolm, and Ruth got the distinct impression she was about to get rumbled.
"Hours," Harry said, gruffly, back from his venture to rescue Jo – or more likely the rest of the assembled group – from flooding the town hall. "But it tasted lovely in the end."
"You helped!?" Malcolm asked, incredulously.
Harry nodded in what he hoped was an affirmative manner. "Oh yes, we were all sticky and smothered in jam in no time."
The startled coughing to his left caught his attention and he turned to see Ruth spluttering madly and looking at him as if he'd gone mad.
"No wonder you made time for the jam, then," Zaf smirked, and then turned to leave before he was ordered to.
"I didn't…! That's not…!" Harry started and then trailed off. Ruth was still wide-eyed and beetroot-red and Malcolm looked like he'd swallowed his own tongue.
"Malcolm!" Harry commanded, loudly. "Would you be so kind as to get Ruth a drink?"
Malcolm nodded and scurried off, glad of the excuse to leave.
"Sorry," Harry murmured, eventually, as they both stood looking at one another.
"No, no, I'm grateful to you for saving me…" she rambled, finding it easiest to address the spot to the left of his head. "It wasn't perhaps of the most innocent of remarks but it certainly shifted attention away from my misdemeanours."
"God knows what I was thinking to come out with that," he moaned and, upon hearing her small squeak, realised he'd put his foot in it again. "No! No! I didn't mean…I didn't mean I was thinking about that. With you. Not that…it wouldn't be a nice thought…but…erm…I'm making it worse, aren't I?"
She nodded, slowly, incapable of anything else. It quite possible ranked as their oddest and yet most illuminating discussion to date.
"Perhaps I should go and supervise, over there," Harry mumbled, bashfully.
**
"Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry!" Wes cried, as Harry sauntered over to their stall, which was now all set up and ready to go as soon as the punters were let in. "Have you come to have a go?"
Harry looked at the drainpipe creation rather awkwardly, obviously unfamiliar with Splat the Rat.
"Well, er, actually I was just coming to check how your dad and Jo were getting on." He looked to his left, to Jo's stall, where she gave him a big thumbs up and waved a pink duck.
"Oh pleeeeeeeeease, Uncle Harry!"
"What's the rules then?"
"Rules?" asked Wes, as if that was a daft question. "You just have to hit the rat."
"Oh, right."
Wes handed him with a bat, as if Harry had confirmed his willingness to participate and Adam grinned as he released the sock-rat down the drain.
"Too slow! Haha!" cheered Wes, ungraciously. "You have to be faster Uncle Harry."
"You didn't give me warning," he said, good-naturedly, but not without a glare in Adam's direction.
"Try again," said Jo, wandering over.
Harry raised the mallet and gave Adam a nod to signal he was ready.
"Three, two, one…"
The rat shot out of the tube faster than Harry could hit it, much to his chagrin.
"Here," said Jo, taking the mallet. Adam dropped the rat again and Jo hit it with perfect precision.
Harry simply growled, loudly.
"Haha," said Wes. "You got beaten by a girl!"
"You'd do well never to underestimate women, Wesley," Harry said, wisely, before turning his back, and leaving the three of them to it.
Thanks for reading! Please review :)
Happy New Year to you, too!