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Authors: Christina Jones
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which sets us up proper for
the winter.’
Amber tried not to laugh. Her friends simply wouldn’t believe it. Or maybe they would. They’d warned her that life would be
very different Down South, hadn’t they? Maybe though, she thought drowsily, she wouldn’t tellthem that in two days time she was going to be baying at the moon. She’d keep that bit of information to herself. She’d simply
go along with the partying and try not to giggle.
After all, there was no chance that the moon and stars could make one jot of difference to her future, was there?
Chapter Seven
Blue Moon
Annoyingly for Zillah, despite living next door and her best spying efforts, she didn’t actually get to meet Amber until St
Bedric’s Eve.
Admittedly it was a mere thirty-six hours since Amber had arrived in Fiddlesticks, but the damn girl had been kept more firmly
under wraps than a royal wedding dress.
Gwyneth, with, it seemed to Zillah, quite unnecessary determination, had explained that Amber was tired after her long journey
and needed to unpack and settle in and adjust to her new surroundings, and that she’d have enough time to explore the village
and meet everyone come St Bedric’s.
‘But I’m not everyone,’ Zillah had protested. ‘Come on, Gwyneth. You’ve been like a mum to me ever since I moved in and we’ve
always shared everything. I only want to say hello …’
‘Sorry, duck. I wants to let young Amber take this at her own pace. I may not ’ave ’ad a lot to do with youngsters but I like
the lass, and I want ’er to be ’appy here. I want her to stay – and right now I reckon this is the last place on earth she
wants to be. She’s not only homesick – although she’s trying ’ard not to show it – but this is like living on another planet
to her. From what she’s told me it seems city living is light years away from what goes onhere.’ Gwyneth had grinned at this point. ‘Mind, she’s taught me ’ow to text. Fiddly job that is, and all. It took me ages
but I sent a message to ’er mum and dad en route to Spain to say she’d arrived safely. Ain’t that amazing?’
‘Absolutely bloody incredible,’ Zillah had muttered, slamming the door to Chrysalis Cottage behind her.
Even Big Ida, the fount of all gossip, hadn’t had a great deal to add.
‘I ain’t seen much more of her than you ’as, Zil. Just a quick glimpse when I snook round to borrow a cup of proverbial sugar
… What’s she like? Well, she seems friendly – and she’s pretty enough, the little bit I’ve seen of ’er. Very brown. Uses fake
tan, Gwyneth said. Gawd knows why, mind. And she wears ever such short skirts. Like the kiddies wear. No more’n a few inches
long.’ She’d pursed her lips. ‘Didn’t young Lewis tell you all about her, then?’
‘Not a lot, no. I … I haven’t seen much of him. He came into the pub last night but we were busy and he – he – didn’t say
anything about Amber really. And I, er, didn’t want to pry. Didn’t want him to think – well … you know. Mind you, he was with
Fern and Jem, and of course when he’s with Jem no one else gets a look in.’
Big Ida had snorted loudly. ‘That may well change if Amber sets ’er cap at him. She’s a right little glamour puss. She’ll
turn a few ’eads and no mistake. Funny voice, though. Like Coronation Street. Doubt if that’ll put ’em off, though. Young
Lewis, with ’is reputation, could be heading the queue. Anyway, we’ll all get to see a bit more of her tomorrow night, won’t
we? Gwyneth says she’s really looking forward to celebrating St Bedric’s.’
Everyone, Zillah thought darkly, was probably looking forward to meeting Amber more.
And now it was St Bedric’s Eve morning in The Weasel and Bucket, and Zillah, having found a long floaty green dress circa
1972 in the ‘can I bear to part with this?’ heap at the bottom of her wardrobe to take the place of the lime-green
the winter.’
Amber tried not to laugh. Her friends simply wouldn’t believe it. Or maybe they would. They’d warned her that life would be
very different Down South, hadn’t they? Maybe though, she thought drowsily, she wouldn’t tellthem that in two days time she was going to be baying at the moon. She’d keep that bit of information to herself. She’d simply
go along with the partying and try not to giggle.
After all, there was no chance that the moon and stars could make one jot of difference to her future, was there?
Chapter Seven
Blue Moon
Annoyingly for Zillah, despite living next door and her best spying efforts, she didn’t actually get to meet Amber until St
Bedric’s Eve.
Admittedly it was a mere thirty-six hours since Amber had arrived in Fiddlesticks, but the damn girl had been kept more firmly
under wraps than a royal wedding dress.
Gwyneth, with, it seemed to Zillah, quite unnecessary determination, had explained that Amber was tired after her long journey
and needed to unpack and settle in and adjust to her new surroundings, and that she’d have enough time to explore the village
and meet everyone come St Bedric’s.
‘But I’m not everyone,’ Zillah had protested. ‘Come on, Gwyneth. You’ve been like a mum to me ever since I moved in and we’ve
always shared everything. I only want to say hello …’
‘Sorry, duck. I wants to let young Amber take this at her own pace. I may not ’ave ’ad a lot to do with youngsters but I like
the lass, and I want ’er to be ’appy here. I want her to stay – and right now I reckon this is the last place on earth she
wants to be. She’s not only homesick – although she’s trying ’ard not to show it – but this is like living on another planet
to her. From what she’s told me it seems city living is light years away from what goes onhere.’ Gwyneth had grinned at this point. ‘Mind, she’s taught me ’ow to text. Fiddly job that is, and all. It took me ages
but I sent a message to ’er mum and dad en route to Spain to say she’d arrived safely. Ain’t that amazing?’
‘Absolutely bloody incredible,’ Zillah had muttered, slamming the door to Chrysalis Cottage behind her.
Even Big Ida, the fount of all gossip, hadn’t had a great deal to add.
‘I ain’t seen much more of her than you ’as, Zil. Just a quick glimpse when I snook round to borrow a cup of proverbial sugar
… What’s she like? Well, she seems friendly – and she’s pretty enough, the little bit I’ve seen of ’er. Very brown. Uses fake
tan, Gwyneth said. Gawd knows why, mind. And she wears ever such short skirts. Like the kiddies wear. No more’n a few inches
long.’ She’d pursed her lips. ‘Didn’t young Lewis tell you all about her, then?’
‘Not a lot, no. I … I haven’t seen much of him. He came into the pub last night but we were busy and he – he – didn’t say
anything about Amber really. And I, er, didn’t want to pry. Didn’t want him to think – well … you know. Mind you, he was with
Fern and Jem, and of course when he’s with Jem no one else gets a look in.’
Big Ida had snorted loudly. ‘That may well change if Amber sets ’er cap at him. She’s a right little glamour puss. She’ll
turn a few ’eads and no mistake. Funny voice, though. Like Coronation Street. Doubt if that’ll put ’em off, though. Young
Lewis, with ’is reputation, could be heading the queue. Anyway, we’ll all get to see a bit more of her tomorrow night, won’t
we? Gwyneth says she’s really looking forward to celebrating St Bedric’s.’
Everyone, Zillah thought darkly, was probably looking forward to meeting Amber more.
And now it was St Bedric’s Eve morning in The Weasel and Bucket, and Zillah, having found a long floaty green dress circa
1972 in the ‘can I bear to part with this?’ heap at the bottom of her wardrobe to take the place of the lime-green
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