A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

‘Yeah!’ Tony nodded enthusiastically. ‘I always wanted to be up on the big screen. Don’t you remember, all the school plays…?’

‘Ooh yes!’ said Mum. ‘I remember. You did The Wind in the Willows.’

‘Guess who I was?’ Tony turned to Daisy, who was trying to calm the dog down.

‘The wind,’ I murmured.

‘You were just jealous because I got the lead role and what were you? Oh yeah, the old washerwoman!’

‘You did have to go on stage in front of everyone with your face painted green,’ I pointed out.

‘So jealous…’

‘Do we have to audition?’ said Daisy. ‘Do they make us do a screen test, like you see on the telly?’

‘No,’ said Tony. ‘You just fill in the form and wait for them to call you. They give you a once over to make sure you look right—’

‘Look right?’ I asked.

‘It’s a period drama, innit? No tattoos or nose rings.’ Tony winked at Mum. ‘Better cover up them tattoos of yours, Shirley!’

Mum giggled. I rolled my eyes. Tony had always been able to wrap my mum round his little finger, much more so than I could, which was hardly fair.

‘And that’s it?’ said Daisy. She’d been excited but a little nervous at the idea of having to get up and perform in front of everyone, I thought, and she looked relieved. Tony nodded.

‘That’s it. Nothing to worry about. Here.’ He led us into the tent. Just inside was a long table covered in forms and mugs full of biros. A bored-looking woman sat behind it, scrolling through her phone. She barely looked up as we entered. Along the side of the tent were a couple of rows of seats, most of them full, while at the other end stood another table, this time with a man and a woman seated behind. He called, ‘Next!’ and the occupant of the seat nearest to them stood up and handed over a completed form, then waited awkwardly in front of them. Everyone in the seats stood up and shuffled along to the next chair.

Mum and Daisy both took a form and went to sit down while they filled them in. Tony looked at me expectantly but I shook my head.

‘Nope. I have no desire to see myself on the big screen.’

‘Really? I don’t believe you.’

‘I don’t!’

‘You just don’t want to get cast as a washerwoman again.’ Tony grinned and I aimed a slap at him, which he dodged easily. ‘No, look, think about it. It’s really easy. All you have to do is stand around and go ‘rhubarb, rhubarb’ or whatever. They pay you a hundred quid a day and feed you, just for standing there in a costume.’

‘A hundred quid?’ It was tempting, but … no. ‘You don’t need the money, though, do you? The shop’s doing all right?’ Tony ran the town’s only department store, which had been owned by his family for several generations.

‘The shop’s doing fine, I just want to be a movie star. Good job I’ve got a nice boss.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘How much work you got on at the moment?’

‘Enough,’ I said, but I didn’t actually have any. My catering business was slowly picking up, but it was the wrong time of year for weddings or outdoor events, and Christmas party season wouldn’t start for another couple of months yet. Truth be told, I was living off my savings, and they wouldn’t last for much longer.

‘Really?’ Tony lowered his voice. ‘Come on, Jodie. This is easy money. I worry about you…’

‘You really don’t need to.’

‘Yeah, I do. I don’t want you running out of money and moving back up to London; I’ve got used to having you around again.’ He smiled. ‘I need you here to bail me out if I get into trouble. Not that I’m planning another disastrous wedding or anything.’ My first job back in Penstowan had been catering for Tony’s nuptials with his then-fiancée Cheryl, and to say it hadn’t gone according to plan would be an understatement. His ex-wife’s body had turned up in the venue’s shrubbery, and Cheryl had done a runner in fright, making it look like Tony had done away with both of them.

I looked at him. ‘You’d better not be. I don’t think Nathan would want me under his feet on another murder investigation.’

‘Oh, I dunno. I think he enjoys it…’ Tony looked around as the man behind the table called, ‘Next!’ again. ‘All right, at least come and sit with us.’

We joined Daisy and Mum. They were excited and chatted with Tony but I sat there thinking, a hundred quid a day, just for standing around in a costume? I could actually use a hundred quid a day. It was Daisy’s thirteenth birthday in a couple of weeks and I knew what I wanted to get her, but wasn’t sure if I could really afford it. And the Gimpmobile – my catering company van, so called because of its previous owner’s, um, interesting retail business – had developed a clanking noise that couldn’t even be drowned out by having the radio on full-blast, which was normally my go-to repair strategy. I hoped it was just a temporary malaise and not a death rattle, but I feared it was the latter.

I nudged Tony. ‘Are you sure that’s how much they’re paying?’

‘Yup. I asked.’

‘How many days will they need us for?’

‘I dunno, but they’re only here for two weeks. Apparently they’ve already shot most of the film up in Scotland.’ He chuckled. ‘I thought you weren’t interested?’

‘I wasn’t.’ I lowered my voice. ‘But Daisy needs a new computer, so I wanted to get her a fancy one for her birthday. She’s getting into photography and I want to get her all the software, and it’s really expensive.’

‘Then do this, for God’s sake! It’ll be fun! We’ll get to hang out together!’ Tony jumped up and grabbed another form, then sat down and thrust it into my hands. ‘Fill that in and stop being daft.’

So I stopped being daft –