Golden Ticket

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Later that day she was warming up before her practice with John, when Mrs. Tiddles rushed into the hall with a stack of papers in her hands.

"Viola, dear, I wouldn't want to interrupt," she said and gave Viola a look over. "Oh, I see, John's not here yet. Lovely! I have a few designs to finalise with you." She lifted a piece of paper to show to Viola. "What do you think? For the poster for the Dance?"

Viola looked over a rather stylish design with a silhouette of a dancing couple and the words 'Fleckney Winter Dance' in an elegant font.

"It looks really good to me, Mrs. Tiddles," Viola said.

"Excellent," the old lady said. "Just as we expected, the whole county is already talking about it, and I imagine you'll sell quite a few tickets at the Market on the weekend, especially if John stops by for a small... demonstration."

"He promised he would," Viola answered. "He'll be busy with the book fair obviously, but he said he'll be available around noon. How late does the Market normally run?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, do you have plans that night, my dear?" Mrs. Tiddles gave her a cheeky look. "Everyone's talking about the bouquet, so you know. And the lunch at Miss Rosa's."

Viola chuckled and shook her head slightly.

"Of course they are," she said. "It would be naive to assume otherwise."

"You'll have to forgive everyone's curiosity," Mrs. Tiddles drew out. "There hasn't been anything remotely scandalous happening in the county since Fiona Holyoake's appearance in the Swallow Barn Cottage two years ago."

"Ah, but of course," Viola said, laughing openly now. "And here I am having lunch with my ex-husband. Do you think there's a chance I could pretend it was an innocent lunch between two friends?"

"Don't be silly, Viola," Mrs. Tiddles cut off. "Not after he bought two dozens of Mrs. Tomlin's most luxurious Hanoi Ranunculus asking for the 'best bouquet for a woman of impeccable taste.' And not after you two held hands, sharing Miss Rosa's cognac and honey fig cheesecake, famous for its aphrodisiac qualities."

Viola burst into loud laughter. "Oh my goodness, I have clearly underestimated Mrs. Tomlin and Miss Rosa's gossip broadcasting abilities," she said, covering her mouth with her hand. "I can't imagine Rhys saying anything of the kind when buying flowers. And there was no cheesecake - or holding hands, for that matter," she said to the old woman.

"But there was the bouquet," Mrs. Tiddles pointed out, "and everyone who shopped at the butcher's today has received a detailed account of it with their pork chops or their rashers."

"I fear to imagine." Viola snorted. "I assume if Mr. Buck is prone to exaggerating, that would be the account of some inappropriate behaviour, wouldn't it?"

"But of course," Mrs. Tiddles scoffed. "But since it seemed that every customer heard a different story, the public is confused - and only more curious, of course."

Viola shook her head again.

"I do appreciate you aren't asking, Mrs. Tiddles," Viola said and gave the old lady a smile.

"My dearest, I'm just as greedy for news as everyone else, but I have been in a similar situation, seeing that I'd stolen Mr. Tiddles from the first Mrs. Tiddles, so I will leave you in peace," the old lady said with dignity and departed.

Viola stretched for another few minutes, when she felt a presence behind her. She turned, ready to greet John - and met Rhys' eyes. His left eyebrow was slightly raised, on the account of Viola's leggings and off shoulder top, perhaps.

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