Brexit? It's alright, said Fred…
Borsetshire fruit farmers needn’t worry about Brexit making
it harder to recruit seasonal workers, according to Borchester College student
Freddie Pargetter.
‘Fruit picking is a fantastic job and I’m going to tell all
my pals to sign up,’ he said. ‘I’ve done it for a whole day now and I’ve
already been invited to a drinks party, met a cool girl called Sonja and saw a
brilliant punch-up where the lads from Manorfield Close set fire to a chair and
this huge guy, Mouse, laid one of them out, though I’m supposed to say that was
in self-defence.’
Mr Pargetter, whose
mother Elizabeth owns the Lower Loxley estate, said he was ‘perfectly
satisfied’ with the working conditions and pay for seasonal workers. ‘In the
holidays I’ll be earning £20 a day, which adds up to £200 for a six-day week,
which I reckon is pretty good,’ he said. ‘I’d work at Home Farm full-time if I
could, but boring old mother says I’ve got to go back to college and resit my
maths GCSE.’
… Tom shows Eurocrats the art of the deal
In other Brexit news, a young Ambridge entrepreneur received
a surprise call-up from the UK’s negotiating team in Brussels this week. ‘The
offer came out of the blue, but apparently a contact of mine called Matt
Crawford had recommended me,’ said Tom Archer of Bridge Farm. ‘He’d told his
friends in Whitehall what a great negotiator I was, and they called me in.’
Mr Archer has a track record of working with local power
brokers like Brian Aldridge and Justin Elliott, chairman of Damara Capital.
‘Justin Elliott offered £1 million for 3.5 acres of our land, but I managed to
beat him down to £850,000 all on my own,’ he said. ‘It’s that kind of
experience the UK will need when securing a great deal for British farmers.’
Mr Crawford confirmed that he had suggested Mr Archer and
wished him well in his new role. ‘I’m sure Tom will help do some great
international trade deals for Brits like me, whose business interests are
mainly in Costa Rica,’ he said.
Charity accused of ‘bullying’ shoppers
Trading standards officers in Felpersham are investigating
Borsetshire Wildlife Trust (BWT) over allegations that staff at a street stall
harassed shoppers last Friday. ‘It was awful,’ said one witness. ‘My little boy
was quietly eating his takeaway Happy Meal, when this old lady leapt out and
accused him of destroying the planet by eating fast food. Poor little Ryan was
in floods of tears, and then this little boy – Henry – pinched him and said he
was naughty for not liking fresh fruit like aunty Kirsty. We went straight
round to the police station. They should be locked up.’
Kirsty Miller, spokesperson for the BWT, said she was sorry
if anyone had been offended. ‘We accept our new volunteer, Mrs Jill Archer, was
a little over-enthusiastic,’ she said. ‘But she has more than 50 years’
experience of bee-keeping and does feel passionately about it. And of course
she is a trained domestic appliance demonstrator, so is no stranger to the hard
sell.’
Borsetshire Rural Cinema
Showing this week: When Rex met Anisha
Enjoy this light-hearted romcom starring a well-meaning but ineffectual taxi driver and a feisty, Glaswegian vet, whose unlikely romance takes them from cricket nets to a really awful Chinese restaurant, with plenty of amusing cat-related banter and tales of rugby club pie-eating contests along the way. Will they or won’t they get together? Who cares!
SUMMER FICTION SPECIAL: The Trials of… Lilian Bellamy
In the latest chapter of our sizzling romantic saga, by
award-winning novelist Lavinia Catwater, our heroine fears the past will return
to ruin her future happiness…
Lilian stepped out of the cool portico of Arkwright Hall
into bright sunshine, fanning herself with her souvenir tea towel. She had
enjoyed Lewis’s talk about panelling, but all thoughts of carved lambs tongue
mouldings with floral spandrels – perfect for the cloakroom at the Dower House
– vanished as soon as she saw Lynda Snell. Oh, why did life have to be so
difficult? Only a few weeks ago, she was an ecstatically happy bride-to-be.
Now, she had been unforgivably rude to Lynda, dear James’s marriage to that
tiresome Leonie was in trouble, and – most annoying of all – Matt was still strutting
around, grinning as if he’d struck oil in Penny Hassett… ‘Lilian – darling,
what’s wrong?’ Justin took her arm in that slightly proprietorial way he had. ‘Come
along – you can apologise to Lynda tomorrow. Dinner at Grey Gables?’
‘Oh Justin, that sounds nice. But what if we bump into Matt?’
Suddenly, her fiancé’s eyes took on the steely glare that was feared in
boardrooms from Dallas to Dubai. ‘A most unimpressive man. You’re with me now
Lilian.’
‘Of course, darling.’ She stroked his bespoke linen sleeve.
But as they walked to the car, Lilian shivered as a sudden chill breeze whipped
up the trees, which seemed to whisper: pusscat…
*
‘How dare he! Cocky young whippersnapper!’ Justin strode
about the drawing room, nearly tripping over the books of soft furnishing
samples. ‘We had a deal – until they got greedy, these…’ He stopped short, as
if suddenly remembering he was talking about Lilian’s family. ‘Sit down,
darling – have some Pimm’s!’ Lilian expertly mixed a large glass, topped up
with the emergency extra shot of gin she kept in her bra, and handed it to her
agitated lover. ‘But who is this other developer who’s offered Tom so much
more?’ Justin shook his head, but she knew the answer, even if he didn’t. Only
one man would go out of his way to thwart Justin, and use her hapless brother
Tony and his family to do it. Excusing herself to fetch more ice, Lilian leant
against the kitchen door, her mind racing faster than one of Matt’s nags. Would
he never let her go? And – as she bashed ice cubes out of Justin’s amusing bottom-shaped
trays – in her heart of hearts, did she want him to?
*
Lilian sighed happily as she buckled up Amir’s gleaming bridle.
The beautiful Arab snorted softly, reminding her of Justin when they… ‘Hello pusscat!’
She span round to face Matt’s dazzling grin. ‘Gorgeous creature,’ he said. ‘And
the horse isn’t bad either…’ She ignored his broad wink. ‘Get out of my way,
Matt. I’ve nothing to say to you.’ ‘Don’t worry, I’m going. Just here to see
Anisha about my multi-million pound bloodstock venture…’ He sauntered off,
whistling ‘Big spender’ as Lilian saddled up, her mood ruined…
*
‘Wha…. Where am I?’ ‘Sssh, Lilian. Don’t move. You’re in
shock.’ Matt! What was he doing here? What had happened? Suddenly, like the
crack of pain across her head, the memory returned: Matt had appeared again while
she was out on her ride, she’d accused him of cheating Tom, he’d infuriated her,
she’d galloped off – and now here she was in a ditch, covered in dirt, and Amir…
‘Oh, no!’ She tried to struggle to her feet but Matt gently held her back. ‘Amir’s
grazing down the lane. Don’t worry.’ As he bent over, dabbing at her head with
his large, checkered handkerchief, she breathed in that familiar, heady scent
of cigar and cedar cologne. ‘I thought you were a goner for a minute,’ he said,
and suddenly he looked pale beneath his Costa Rican tan. ‘Oh, pusscat, you know
there’s still something there…’ He tried to gather her in his arms and, fighting
her dizziness, Lilian leapt to her feet. ‘No, there is nothing and there never
will be. Leave me alone Matt, just leave me alone!’ And with that she limped
off down the lane, wondering what she would say to Justin…
To be continued
