The Garden of Stars Read Online Free Page A

ever-so-slightly too small cardigan tightly across her chest as she happily made a bee-line for the largest black cherry tart on the table, hurriedly telling Janice that one little cake wouldn’t upset her diet.
    Â An elderly couple slowly made their way towards the door, leaning heavily on walking sticks. I’d seen them come into the grocers but knew little else about them.
    Â Soon there were more people than I could count. Then I saw Bill the butcher bringing up the rear. I was glad he was here. I felt I could rely on a reaction and a desire to fight back from him.
    Â Most of them were dressed in their Sunday best, even Bill had shed his tatty T-shirt and jeans for a crisp-ish shirt and tie.
    Â Five minutes later the kitchen was so full, people had to lean against the door. Bill lifted himself up and plonked himself on the work surface. I smiled. It helped me relax to see people felt at home here. Other men followed suit and soon there was just me left standing in the middle of them all. I knew time was pressing on. It was now or never. I glanced over to Barbara and could have sworn I saw her nod.
    Â I cleared my throat but everyone was talking animatedly and didn’t hear. Taking a little spoon, I gently tapped it on the edge of my teacup.
    Â â€˜Hullo, everybody. Thank you all for coming here so early on a Sunday morning. My name, for those who don’t know me, is Vivian Myrtle. I invited you all here firstly to introduce myself and to get to know you better. But … there was another reason, too.’
    Â I took a deep breath and slowly started to tell them what the vicar had told me, trying to keep any trace of scandal out of my voice. The story was bad enough without needing to exaggerate. When I came to the end, I looked around. Blank faces. Dumb-founded, I thought. Then Bill started to laugh.
    Â â€˜Is that it, Viv? We’ve known about that for months. Barbara overheard a conversation between Mr Baker and old Johnson outside her shop not long before you arrived. It didn’t take long for us to put two and two together.’
    Â â€˜But what about the welcome-home party?’ I blurted out, flustered.
    Â There was mass sniggering.
    Â â€˜Oh that,’ said Bill, ‘That was our little way of embarrassing the vicar and, more importantly, rubbing Johnson’s nose in it. Bit of one-upmanship you could say.’
    Â For a moment I couldn’t think of a word to say. I’d dragged them all up here for nothing. No, more than that, to make myself, the newcomer, look like a fool. I couldn’t believe I’d been so naïve to think they wouldn’t already know this vital information.
    Â I backed against the stove, my optimism shattered. I was already small in stature, just like my little girl. Now I felt even smaller, faced with all these strangers in my kitchen. The warmth of the Aga penetrated my skin through my pink cotton dress and I thought I heard a little hiss from inside. It made me think of Rosie and her little fairies.
    Â Resolutely, I stood tall in the room again. ‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘something needs to be done about it.’
    Â Everyone stopped in their tracks.
    Â â€˜You suggest we take on the two most powerful people in town?’ asked Gillian. ‘It would be like battling against the good Lord and the establishment in one blow. We wouldn’t stand a chance.’
    Â â€˜And I for one want to make it to heaven,’ said the little old lady, whose name I still didn’t know. She was sat at the table cowering over a battered old walking stick, her grey hair covered by a scarf. She was dressed from head to foot in black. I’d have thought she was a widow had her poor, downtrodden husband not been perched at her side.
    Â â€˜Hear Vivian out,’ said Barbara, willing me on. It was only then that I realised she’d worked out my plan from the start.
    Â I cleared my throat. ‘The