Alexandra Brown - Ice Creams at Carrington’s

‘Err …’ I start.

‘Yes, don’t worry. We’ll draw up a map of who goes where,’ Meredith huffs impatiently, and then motions for me to continue.

‘And a selection of cakes from Cupcakes At Carrington’s. My best friend Sam owns the café and her cakes are legendary – people travel from all over for them, so they’re bound to be a huge hit.’ Silence follows. Perhaps I’ve got it wrong, and they’d prefer more of a ‘village fete’ event after all – guess the weight of the homemade cake, that kind of thing, to go with the welly throwing. Only, I’m not sure my customers will get excited by that, and I have to do my best for Carrington’s. It’s the reason I’m here, after all, plus I can’t imagine Isabella being impressed by a small-town fete, not when she’s used to commissioning Botticelli murals just for an afternoon soirée. Tom told me later that the yacht is usually adorned in framed watercolours, but Isabella fancied a change, so a team of interior designers were flown in from Milan to carry out the temporary transformation. Botticelli has since been whitewashed over and the framed prints put back in place. So, no no no! We must up our game.

‘I had afternoon tea in the Carrington’s café,’ someone eventually says. ‘And it was actually very nice.’ Fab. I beam. ‘A bit on the pricey side, though!’ Hmm, and my smile fades.

‘But worth it if the cakes are as good as Georgie says,’ Cher chips in, and I want to hug her.

‘Exactly. And we can have lots of cake stalls dotted around town to suit all budgets,’ I say, ‘and there are loads of cafés and cake places in Mulberry, so everyone will have a chance to get involved if they want to.’

‘It’s a good idea, but don’t canopies cost a fortune to hire? Being a start-up, we just don’t have the money, and it’ll be sweltering without any shade.’ Ahh, it’s the woman from the new bakery. I smile and she smiles back.

‘Carrington’s can help – provide canopies, or how about a number of food marquees big enough for several stallholders to share? I’m sure the visitors and tourists on the day will welcome the shade, too, while they peruse all the delicious food on offer,’ I grin, remembering the email I got earlier from the board saying that they’ve already done a deal with a local marquee hire company for this exact reason. So everyone wins – the hire company, the local food suppliers and Carrington’s – which in return for covering the hire cost will have the store logo on a select few canopies (having it on all of them would just be ridiculous and defeat the purpose of this being a whole community endeavour – something Carrington’s is keen to be seen to be supporting). And it wasn’t that long ago that Carrington’s was struggling and very nearly went under. If it hadn’t been for the loyalty of the local community – coming in store to buy school uniforms, a special birthday present, treating themselves to afternoon tea in Sam’s café or a pedicure in the spa, then we most definitely wouldn’t have made it. It all adds up. It’s thanks to them that we’re now in a position to support others who might still be struggling in this economical climate.

‘I’m definitely in,’ the woman from the bakery beams, and a few other people all smile and nod in agreement.

‘Fab. And I thought perhaps a mini-film festival,’ I move on. Meredith sniffs with disapproval – I take a deep breath; I can sort of understand why she might be a bit down on Carrington’s, but it’s not my fault she got caught out, in flagrante as it were, with the Heff. ‘And old-fashioned pop-up ice-cream vendors.’

‘Ooh, that sounds lovely. I can picture it now, all candy-striped awnings and swirly Mr Whippy cones with sprinkles on top,’ Cher says, nudging me again.

‘Yes, that would be brilliant, and we could even have a special limited-edition Mulberry Regatta ice-cream flavour made – you know, like …’ I pause to catch my breath. ‘Of course, this is just off the top of my head – cinnamon, mulberries and cream for example,’ I say, feeling excited now, and if I’m not mistaken, a little buzz reverberates around the room. ‘And I was thinking a fleet of ice-cream vans would be good – the old-fashioned ones that chime tunes like “Greensleeves”.’ Cher nods and, feeling more relaxed, I add, ‘You know, my mum used to say the chime meant they’d run out of lollies …’

‘Mine too!’ Cher laughs. ‘Not for our regatta though, eh? We’ll make sure of it.’ She winks at me conspiratorially. Grinning, I carry on.

‘We could have them dotted all around Mulberry, and lining the route to the marina perhaps, like a welcoming party so people can buy an ice cream plus pick up a programme,’ I say, getting into the swing of things now.

‘Yes, good idea.’ It’s Matt from the council. ‘And that would save us having to draft in students from Mulberry College to stand around trying to flog the programmes. That’s what we usually do for our other major event – the switching on of the Christmas lights – but it’s not ideal as last time one of the environmental health officers found a big pile of programmes dumped in the bushes up on Mulberry Common.’ A tutting sound reverberates around the room, but at least they’re all getting involved now. I keep going.

‘And in line with the retro theme, I thought a carousel would be cool, like the ones you get at the funfair. And, last but not least, a guided tour of Carrington’s underground tunnels.’ An ultra-ominous silence follows this time. Oh God, I’ve lost them now.

‘Well, that’s quite a list. Is anyone interested in working with Georgie?’ Meredith asks the room, and I’m sure I spot a glint in her eye.

‘I would, love, but I reckon I’ll have my hands full with the music festival,’ Cher says, apologetically.

‘Me too. Sorry Georgie,’ Jared chips in.

‘And I’d like to do the donkey rides,’ someone else adds, and then, in turn, they each allocate themselves to the various ideas, all except mine.

‘Oh dear, looks like you’re on your own in that case,’ Meredith says. I gulp. Whaaaat? Surely she doesn’t think I can do everything by myself? I swivel around, desperate for volunteers.

‘We’ll do the film festival.’ A man in full combat gear stands up. ‘My staff will assume responsibility for this one,’ he adds, practically clicking his heels to attention.

‘Oh that would be fab, thanks so much.’ Relieved, I grin at the guy, and he nods as if to formally seal the deal.

‘Well, I guess it makes sense, seeing as you own the television shop,’ Meredith says quickly, desperate to claw back control.

‘That’s right. Mulberry Sound and Vision. We sell everything from home cinema systems to car audio equipment, and we have a specialist covert and surveillance department on the first floor,’ commando man corrects, and there’s definitely a hint of frostiness in his voice. Ha! So he’s got the cut of Meredith then. Good, maybe he can hunt her down when he’s next out on manoeuvres – or whatever it is he does dressed up in that gear. He even has a pouch on his belt, which I’m guessing real soldiers use for storing grenades – his has a mobile phone inside.

‘Yes, yes of course,’ Meredith mutters. ‘So, that’s settled then. Everyone know what they’ve taken responsibility for?’ She does a cursory glance around the room before snapping her clipboard shut. ‘Good, because I for one am parched. See you all next time – details will be emailed out. And do come with project plans – supplier names, costs and itineraries, that kind of thing, so we can go through them and get everything approved with the various authorities.’

Matt jumps up and turns to face us all. ‘Before you all go – I’ve invited representatives from the emergency services, health and safety, traffic control, etc., to join our next meeting, so if you have any queries you’ll have a chance to ask questions or get clarification. And then we can all get cracking on making Mulberry’s first regatta a resounding success.’