Three Things About Elsie(49)

‘A rather exciting announcement,’ she said again, only she didn’t take her eyes off me this time, and said it a bit more quietly. ‘I know how you are all very enthusiastic fans of What’s It Worth?’

A few people glanced up, and even Mrs Honeyman looked interested for once. I’ve never been very big on it. People raiding their lofts to find out how much money they think they’re entitled to and pulling a face when it turns out to be a lot less than they expected. Although it’s more entertainment than the food programmes.

‘Well,’ said Miss Ambrose, ‘I’m delighted to announce that the makers of What’s It Worth? have decided to set one of their episodes here, at Cherry Tree. They’re rather taken with the ambience of the courtyards.’

Even I looked up then.

‘Well, that’s marvellous,’ said Jack. ‘There you go, Florence. That will take your mind off things. You’re going to be on the telly.’

‘Well …’ Miss Ambrose stretched out the word whilst her face rounded up some more to add to it. She also did a little bounce in her knees, just for good measure. ‘We think, perhaps, it would be best if the residents stayed out of the way. For a bit.’

‘For a bit?’ said Jack.

‘For the whole time, really,’ she said. ‘In their flats would be ideal. Of course, as soon as the television people have gone, you can all come back out again.’

‘Very kind of you,’ said Jack.

‘It’s just that there will be a lot of valuable antiques on the premises. Some very old items. We need to be careful with them. The last thing anyone wants is any of them getting damaged. It would be unforgivable.’

‘Of course,’ Jack said.

‘Some of them might even be priceless.’

‘Priceless indeed,’ he said.

I saw Simon look at the floor and push at the carpet with the edge of his training shoe.

Three days later, they arrived. I opened my curtains and the courtyard was full of people and vans. They were just like the vans you see criminals being taken to prison in, only they didn’t have the little bars on the side.

‘Would you look,’ I said to Elsie. ‘All that just for one television programme.’

The courtyard was unrecognisable. Lengths of cable twisted all over the grass and along the footpaths, and people marched up and down with clipboards and boxes, scattering gravel all over the place and treading mud everywhere. By eight o’clock, people had started to queue. There was a whole ribbon of them, stretching around the main building and on to the driveway. They were gripping all manner of things to their chests. Paintings and doll’s houses, Toby jugs and candlesticks. There was even a woman carrying something that looked suspiciously like a lavatory seat.

Jack had arrived, and he joined us at the window. ‘They’re all hoping they had a fortune hiding in the cupboard under the stairs.’ He leaned against the radiator with his arms folded.

‘I don’t even own stairs now,’ I said. ‘Let alone a cupboard underneath them.’

We stood in silence.

I was going to make us all a cup of tea, to pass the time a bit, but then Jack started talking about the bus that pulls up at the bottom of the drive every quarter to the hour, and how he thought we should all get on it and have a little day out instead.

‘Aren’t we supposed to tell someone we’re going?’ I said.

‘Florence, they won’t even notice we’re missing,’ he said. ‘They’re far too distracted trying to auction off the past.’

And his idea seemed so much more interesting than putting the kettle on.

The bus smelled of crisp packets and other people’s feet, although we weren’t really on it for very long. Elsie made a big fuss of brushing the seat down with her coat sleeve, but she was still in the middle of complaining when the bus tipped us out at the top of the high street.

‘Here we are,’ said Jack. ‘The big city.’

It wasn’t a city, and it wasn’t really very big, but it was more interesting than staring out of a window all day at the tops of other people’s heads.

We started to walk down the pavement, but that was a battle in itself, because of the crowds.

‘Where do they all come from?’ I said. ‘How do all these people have somewhere to go?’

‘It’s a Saturday.’ Elsie looked straight ahead as she spoke, because she said it was far too dangerous to take your eyes from the battlefield. ‘Everyone goes shopping on a Saturday. It’s what people do.’

There’s an unspoken contract to keep up when you’re on a busy pavement and we couldn’t stick to it. There were too many pushchairs and carrier bags, and people tutting and trying to edge past. Someone attacked Jack’s legs with a pram wheel, and so we decided to go into Marks & Spencer to get our breath back.

We walked into the men’s department, and it was coat-hanger quiet. Even though there were lots of people, they were orderly and silent, and rearranged themselves around you very politely on the carpet. People always behave in M&S, don’t they? There were different-coloured paths to walk along and mannequins dotted about every so often, and they all had vacant expressions and an absence of eyebrows.

‘That one looks like Simon,’ I said, as we walked past, but no one took any notice.