Something to Chew On

 

It was our first time at the Oundle Literary Festival. We began with the ‘Murder Mystery’ event. And what fun that was.

We didn’t have a team and had no idea what to expect. The event organiser welcomed us warmly and sat us on a table right at the back of the room.

The leaflet had said, ‘Bring a picnic.’ But I hadn’t brought anything. I nearly did. Just a few old toffees in a small plastic bag together with water in a rinsed out old Fanta bottle.

I had imagined passing the toffees around to my teammates to chew on as we mulled over the facts of the crime. We don’t like these toffees. I get given them every year as a thank you present by my neighbour for looking after her tortoise while she she goes away on holiday.

We had taken them with us in the car, but luckily, some vague sense of foreboding saved me from taking them on to the event.  I did touch them after we found a place to park. I even held the bag of toffees up in the air for a while, considering them as the bag twizzled and spun in the air; but then finally,  decided against taking them. If we didn’t like them then perhaps our team mates wouldn’t  either. And also we weren’t really that hungry.

Thank goodness we didn’t.

I had no idea what awaited us in the Oundle’s Victoria Hall. As the curtain was sweep aside we saw an astonishing sight. The people already there were  sitting around tables laid with chequered cloths. There were napkins and a sumptuous array of food. We sat down awkwardly at the corner of our allotted table, embarrassed that we had not brought a proper contribution of our own. But so grateful that what we had brought  had been left in the car. The old Fanta bottle would not have looked so grand next to this  onyx cheese board,  with its ivory handled cheese knife set expectantly against a selection of what looked like mouth-watering cheeses.

I couldn’t touch any of the food. To have done so would have been presumptuous. To even look upon such a spread seemed like an affront when we had come so empty handed.

Then what was even more surprising was a particular sound in the room as people, after greeting their friends, settled down to begin the evening: the sound of champagne corks popping.

“Would you like some?” The lady opposite me asks.

She’d already brought out two champagne glasses in anticipation of our answer and has begun to pour.

And as I sipped this champagne and wait for the actors to begin the drama, never in all my life have I been more grateful to have leftl a bag of Devon toffees and an old Fanta bottle behind in the car.