‘I suppose you’re right.’ Joseph shook his head but the look of utter dejection on his face made Cassie laugh, and she pecked a kiss on his cheek.
‘You can have a drink tomorrow evening, after the fair,’ she said to cheer him up.
The noise level in the pub suddenly increased as Big Jim made his way to the stage. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight for our annual Christmas Comedy Night. The reputation of our comedians draws crowds from the whole of Cumbria, and tonight again our contestants have come from far and wide and represent the best of comic genius our region has to offer, from Windermere to Keswick, from Troutbeck to Arnside.’
People laughed, but Jim soldiered on. ‘As you know, our very own Joseph Bell has for the past fifteen years been our comedy champion. He is defending his title tonight and we cannot wait for him to regale us with his witty puns and unique jokes.’
He gestured for Cassie’s grandfather to come forward. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Joseph Bell!’
He passed the mike to Cassie’s granddad, who smiled and waited for the clapping to die down. Colour had come back to his cheeks, and he was standing tall and straight again.
‘Once again our friend Big Jim has set up the stage next to the Christmas tree, even though I tell him every single year that it’s a bad idea, because it gives us “pines and needles”.’
People jeered but he carried on. ‘He never listens to me. It was the same the other day, when he was stuffing himself with chocolate log. “Slow down, Jim,” I said, “or Yule get indigestion!” But like I said Big Jim always does exactly as he pleases – his sense of style, for example, is unique.’
He grimaced and pointed to Jim’s cowboy shirt. ‘He went to town to buy a camouflage shirt the other day, but as he couldn’t find any, he came back with that instead.’
Big Jim shook his head, clapped his hand on his shoulder and handed him a piece of paper that Cassie’s granddad read out loud. ‘I am pleased to announce our first contestant of the evening, Rob Quince, who has come all the way from sunny Walney. Come here, son, don’t be shy!’
A tall, gangly young man, with a face as red as a tomato climbed onto the stage. Cassie’s granddad whispered something to him and they both laughed, then he wished him good luck and came back to sit down.
Cassie couldn’t resist giving her grandfather another kiss. ‘Well done,’ she said as she leant against his arm, breathing in his familiar, reassuring scent.
‘You’re a good girl, Trifle.’ He looked around the crowd, frowned, and turned back to her. ‘I thought Lambert would be here tonight.’
Her eyes filled with tears at the mere mention of Stefan’s name. She blinked and looked away. ‘He left after Kerry’s wedding. I haven’t seen him since.’
‘Have you two had a falling out?’
Her throat too tight to speak, she gave a little nod.
‘He’ll be back. He promised, didn’t he?’ He gave her hand a comforting pat.
There were seven contestants in total, and each with a very different kind of humour. Some told traditional jokes, others more risqué puns. There were even two female mimes.
‘What was that all about?’ her grandfather asked, shaking his head in dismay as the young women pirouetted off the stage, waving their black bowler hats and squirting water at the audience. ‘They didn’t even say a word! Jokes are meant to be spoken. It’s a comedy night, not a flamin’ circus.’
‘They were funny, though, you have to admit,’ Tim said, bright red from laughing.
Cassie nudged her grandfather. ‘It looks like it’s your turn. How are you feeling?’
‘Never better.’ But he struggled to get up from his chair, and Tim had to help him climb onto the stage.
‘Why don’t you go to bed and sleep it off, Granddad?’ a man with a London accent shouted from the bar.
How rude! Cassie swung back to scan the crowd to see who had shouted. This time she spotted Nathan. He was chatting to his friends and laughing. She shot them an angry look and turned back to give her granddad an encouraging smile.
His face pale and drawn, he swayed on his feet before taking hold of the mike to start his act. To be on the safe side, she took the Post-it notes out of her bag and put them on the table in front of her.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Stefan had left Manchester well before the Friday evening rush hour, but there had been a string of incidents on the motorway and the journey that should have taken a couple of hours turned out to take twice as long. He would go straight to the Eagle and Child. With luck, he could still watch Joseph’s act.
He could hear the laughter and the clapping as soon as he got out of the car. There were other sounds too – sounds of heckling and booing that he hadn’t expected. He pushed the door to the pub open as Joseph launched into a joke.
Stefan’s first thought was that the man looked ill. His features were pinched, his skin more lined than usual and he appeared to sway on his feet as if he was drunk. He scanned the audience and spotted Tim, Rachel… and Cassie, but she was far too busy flicking through a bundle of Post-it notes to take any notice of him.
‘I went into our lovely village bakery the other day,’ Joseph was saying, hesitation creeping into his voice, ‘and the shop assistant said… ahem… she said that she could hear noises coming from the back room… at night. Ahem…’
He paused, took a handkerchief out of the pocket of his corduroy trousers to wipe his forehead and looked at Cassie. She immediately glanced down at one of the Post-it notes before mouthing a few words.
Joseph nodded, and resumed speaking. ‘“Someone’s hiding in there,” she said, “but who could be hiding in a bakery at Christmas?” “Well, that’s obvious,” I replied, “it can only be a mince spy!”’
He smiled as the audience cheered. Cassie put the note down on the table and leant against the back of her chair but she still looked tense as her fingers flicked restlessly through her notes.
He had expected to see her there, of course, but what he hadn’t expected was the way his heartbeat picked up and his throat tightened, so much he felt he couldn’t breathe.
‘That mince spy could have been in trouble with the police had he been caught,’ Joseph carried on. ‘I love my policemen jokes, as you well know. Here is a brand new one for you, folks. What did the policeman say to the naughty jacket potato?’ Joseph paused. ‘He said, “You’re under a vest…”’
Joseph took a few steps on the stage, paused and frowned as he pulled on his ear, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Can you hear that, folks?’
People in the audience shouted that they couldn’t hear anything, but one man exclaimed, ‘Get your hearing aid fixed if you’re hearing voices, old man!’
Ignoring him, Joseph carried on. ‘I can definitely hear something. It sounds like… a Christmas Quacker! Do you know what that is?’
‘It’s a bad joke, like the ones you’ve been feeding us for the past half an hour!’ the same man shouted again.
It was the stocky man with the horsy face he had sat next to at the wedding reception. Next to him, Nathan Hardman threw his head back to laugh.